Giants cut the world in half,
Cold, wet sheets of crystal,
Immune to poison and to gaff,
Eluding men so distal.
Their mournful moans, heart-wrenching,
Play softly in the azure,
Upon their thrones, most quenching,
Singing psalms of adjure.
Their place beneath the crest is holy,
A place devoid of men, so lowly.
This morning as I rose from bed,
recovered from my rest,
I turned my gaze to distant hills,
The sun upon their crest.
An orange glow pervaded space,
Brought forth a humming muse,
I peeked into the outside world,
Guiding eyes by brilliant hues.
As she rose into the sky,
And greens returned to green,
She eased my mind into a lull,
And lifted orange sheen.
Pallid blue became azure,
Dull grey shimmered white,
The muddy palette vivified,
Bathing life in golden light.
With opened eyes for break of dawn,
I rise from bed and stifle yawn,
To step outdoors and feel the wind,
I step outside my home, to tend.
Aching hands push spinning blades,
That kick up dirt beneath the shade,
Reduce the world to itching mist,
I wipe my brow and breathe, sun-kissed.
Line after line that mock the old art,
Thrusting, ripping, and tearing apart,
Beautiful words that flow with such ease,
Sweet, savored phrases that come from the heart.
Word after word appears only a tease,
Defiling meanings, shown only to please,
Not written with love, they pour down the page,
Stifle the poet and drip with disease.
Letters, oh letters, from such an old age,
Gracing the poet, transform him to sage,
Yet meaning so less when they lack proper feel,
They condemn his actions, becoming his cage.
This poet has learned not to write, but to kneel,
Received in the bosom of only things real.
Let indecision end today,
A towering stone stonewalled the path,
For day daylight, there’s no delay.
Though loves break and away sway,
Past the block blockade, a bypath,
Let indecision end today.
Begin anew, new life assay,
Forget the old dark darkroom wrath,
For day daylight, there’s no delay.
Forget dead deadwood in the way,
Block out outright the barb and gath,
Let indecision end today.
Feel not now as praying prey,
Stand strong and tall, forestall warpath
For day daylight, there’s no delay.
Clear clearcut of grey decay,
The soil assoils for lattermath,
Let indecision end today,
For day daylight, there’s no delay.
A sour girl with eyes ablaze,
Who shoots a rather icy gaze,
She scans the room for docile foes,
And spits a tale that’s fraught with woes.
Dressed for war, yet fragile still,
She preys upon the weak of will,
Condemning actions others take,
Begets confusion in her wake.
At end of day, when light grows dim,
And cooler winds abate hot skin,
Her inner fire, quenched by ire,
Sheathed and shelved appears less dire.
Salty tears of deep remorse,
Cascade her face and run their course,
Controlled by demons deep within,
Furious storm births quiet din.
Strong-hearted souls, they love her so,
Unhurt by vicious seeds she sow,
They cherish her, for life is short,
Quarrels are of no import.
Feel the omnipresent wind,
Blowing, breezing, cooling skin,
Chases ‘way the oldest fears,
Seals up holes from end to end.
Bless the light for as she nears
She dries the face of salted tears
Turning past from gold to green
Resurrecting blessed years
Biting pain has fled the scene
Left behind no painful screen
There’s sunlight now in every spot
No darkened days left to be seen
Brightly gleaming, light has caught
The two of us and tied a knot.
For Kambrie Balser, who taught me what love should actually feel like. Thanks for reading.
I once met a snake, not a slithery snake
Not a slick-backed old snake or slimy slim snake
But a snake all the same and Jake was his name.
He came once a-hissing and said he was missing
Got lost reminiscing and soon found dismissing
He’d lost his own way and he chose here to stay.
“You cannot be here!”, I cried out with fear
“The coast is not clear! Some people come near!”
“This room is for dining!” and he said, “Stop whining.”
“I will speak nicely”, he said quite concisely,
He grinned so spicily and cried quite precisely,
“A dining room spot is such a nice plot.”
I then racked my brain, for phrases in vain,
“You’ll get in the grain, or plug up the drain!”
“You’ll get in my tea, then where shall I be?”
It was too late, I was doomed to my fate,
With a snake for a mate, he’d seen through my bait.
He’d gone straight to sleep, my pillow to keep.
For my friend, Abi Power. Thanks for reading.
Sinious shifting silhouettes
That move as life and cause regret
As soon as passion starts to grow
Pain becomes life’s epithet
Promises are made to show
The endless line of love’s own flow
But even now the sunlight fades
And brings upon a bout of woe
Life goes on, loves turn to shades
Amorous feelings gone to jade
For even as the trial starts
Rejection tempers burning hearts
I like this one; I wrote it in highschool English class. I remember my hands shaking furiously. I had such trouble. Thanks for reading.
Making rhymes a world apart
They’re torn so fast from poet’s heart
I sit and dream away the days
And plot my diction driven art
Penning phrase with which I part
Create a boxing wordy maze
I struggle seeing through the haze
Of choppy words that seem to faze
My sense of artist’s urgency
To put down words in many ways
Writing just to quell the blaze
And set these captive words so free
But as I free these words of me
A sense of dire need to flee
This art that mends the holes in soul
And gives me reason just to be
Not friend of verse nor enemy
But just a slave to poem’s toll