Yearn deprived and sluggish
I gaze into the darkness
To where silence has reign
A sovereign state it claims
Beyond the walls of its dominion
Into the hollows where I slumber
A turned back on old embraces
A burnt look on my soiled face.
Bitter words that hurt erupted
Have grown hard and more corrupted
Every rivulet and subtle nuance
Long eroded by tides want
Void of lips on which to tremble
An equine perch without its luster
A nub that once a lance had thrusted
A brace to once a throng had clustered.
I read in books the tired calling
From where the voices last were falling
Lyrics thought o’ granite strong
Now remains of nothing gone
Memories cast in seas dilution
Settled deep beyond absolution
In darkness where the silence sighs
Lamenting on its harsh goodbyes.
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sacrifice
Lead me with your hidden blade
Into the depths of sacred stone
To where our ancestors bones are laid
Beside the weeping walls.
Do not tell me of the plans you’ve made
To offer up my bleeding heart
Tell me we’ve come to bow our heads
And give thanks to timeless souls.
As I kneel before the battered skulls
Remove your blade in silence
Let me not hear the sharp intake of breath
Or the beating of your quickened heart.
As your foot falls beside my bare calves
Let me think you’ve come to kneel
Beside me as a friend, in unison as kin
Let expectation linger of your voice raised with mine
Let your hand not tremble and the blade be swift
Give my eyes no time to see
The look of hunger that coats you flesh
Or the twisted sneer that burns your lips.
And as my body falters and the blood runs free
May knowledge come with winged rejoice
Of glories and of rich rewards
And of evil that from hearth now flees.
Into the depths of sacred stone
To where our ancestors bones are laid
Beside the weeping walls.
Do not tell me of the plans you’ve made
To offer up my bleeding heart
Tell me we’ve come to bow our heads
And give thanks to timeless souls.
As I kneel before the battered skulls
Remove your blade in silence
Let me not hear the sharp intake of breath
Or the beating of your quickened heart.
As your foot falls beside my bare calves
Let me think you’ve come to kneel
Beside me as a friend, in unison as kin
Let expectation linger of your voice raised with mine
Let your hand not tremble and the blade be swift
Give my eyes no time to see
The look of hunger that coats you flesh
Or the twisted sneer that burns your lips.
And as my body falters and the blood runs free
May knowledge come with winged rejoice
Of glories and of rich rewards
And of evil that from hearth now flees.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Post 79: 220806 Poetry Contests
Over the past eight months I have made a concerted effort to push my poetry to the next level. The first stage was to enter poetry contests, something I had never done before. With each result posted however I become somewhat deflated in my expectations and skeptical over my own abilities.
For the past 6 weeks I have been awaiting on the results of three competitions, one from New Zealand, one from America and one online. For some reason all results were delayed beyond their stated announcement dates. My waiting ended today when this evening after killing time playing games I realized I hadn't made my usual rounds of the results pages.
As for the New Zealand and American competitions my name was no where in sight but the online competition delivered a surprise. There I was up on top in first place. I have won my first competition. I am the winner of txt2nite.com’s SMS Poetry Contest 8. It may not be as prestigious as bigger comps but I am well chuffed with the result. Not to mention stoked that the first prize of an iPod Shuffle will be winging its way to me.
Check out the results page.
For the past 6 weeks I have been awaiting on the results of three competitions, one from New Zealand, one from America and one online. For some reason all results were delayed beyond their stated announcement dates. My waiting ended today when this evening after killing time playing games I realized I hadn't made my usual rounds of the results pages.
As for the New Zealand and American competitions my name was no where in sight but the online competition delivered a surprise. There I was up on top in first place. I have won my first competition. I am the winner of txt2nite.com’s SMS Poetry Contest 8. It may not be as prestigious as bigger comps but I am well chuffed with the result. Not to mention stoked that the first prize of an iPod Shuffle will be winging its way to me.
Check out the results page.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Post 65: 140706 Poetry and Orange Trees
I left for work a little after one this afternoon. As I walked I wrote a little poem.
“What is more hideous than a toad?” the toad asked.
“A slug.” replied the slug.
“How is a slug more hideous than a toad?” the toad inquired.
“Just look at me.” the slug replied in an off hand manner.
“I am.” licked the toad. ”and you look delicious.”
Oh and some good news. Of the back of the current exhibition in Insdaong I have been asked to contribute to another joint exhibition that begins on the 5th of August. This time at the Orange Tree gallery.
The fear I had about the short life of my photos has been eased. As yet I have few details but when they come to hand to will happily report on proceeding. This will be my third exhibition. Does that make me an artist? Or is it when you sell your first piece?
“What is more hideous than a toad?” the toad asked.
“A slug.” replied the slug.
“How is a slug more hideous than a toad?” the toad inquired.
“Just look at me.” the slug replied in an off hand manner.
“I am.” licked the toad. ”and you look delicious.”
Oh and some good news. Of the back of the current exhibition in Insdaong I have been asked to contribute to another joint exhibition that begins on the 5th of August. This time at the Orange Tree gallery.
The fear I had about the short life of my photos has been eased. As yet I have few details but when they come to hand to will happily report on proceeding. This will be my third exhibition. Does that make me an artist? Or is it when you sell your first piece?
Monday, May 08, 2006
Post 19: 080506 Poem
Post 18: 080506 Poem
The Old Man With a Rag in His Hand
I watched him as he followed me
With his eyes and said strange things
At odd intervals. We walked together
Briefly before he choose to duck
Inside. He said the day was too nice
With its sun and cool breeze. He was
Used to shadows and damp smells and
Kept tugging at his collar until the beads
Of sweat on his forehead had disappeared.
We sat for a long time on make-shift chairs
Listening to water dripping from the faucet
In the next room while he periodically
Pulled a rag from the folds of his well
Pressed slacks. His eyes were transfixed
On my feet until a pair of peach coloured
Hares startled us when they emerged
From a gap in the tiled floor. Their ears
Were pinned back, their coats were well
Groomed and their out of place appearance
Lasted no more than a minute as they
Validated their surroundings and hopped
Out the way we came in. The old man
Extracted his rag and wiped the tears
That had welled in his eyes.
I watched him as he followed me
With his eyes and said strange things
At odd intervals. We walked together
Briefly before he choose to duck
Inside. He said the day was too nice
With its sun and cool breeze. He was
Used to shadows and damp smells and
Kept tugging at his collar until the beads
Of sweat on his forehead had disappeared.
We sat for a long time on make-shift chairs
Listening to water dripping from the faucet
In the next room while he periodically
Pulled a rag from the folds of his well
Pressed slacks. His eyes were transfixed
On my feet until a pair of peach coloured
Hares startled us when they emerged
From a gap in the tiled floor. Their ears
Were pinned back, their coats were well
Groomed and their out of place appearance
Lasted no more than a minute as they
Validated their surroundings and hopped
Out the way we came in. The old man
Extracted his rag and wiped the tears
That had welled in his eyes.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Post 14: 060506 Poem
The Man I Met
He bitterly throws a cough forcing me
Back into my seat. I ask for repentance
But he says there are scores to keep and
If I want to stay on the right side of him
I better learn how to tally the highs and
Lows of a bitter wind. He laughs at me,
A deep petty laugh I cannot see but know
Is there behind his eyes and inadequately
Covered by the hint of a sneer. He’s old
And I want to forgive his manner but
He asks too much with the hammering of
His words into my sluggish thoughts as he
Whimsically calls them. I settle for sitting
In silence as he takes to the table and attempts
To acquaint me with the skills he acquired
From a life spent entertaining himself. I
Force applause from my swollen hands, my
Knuckles still red from the ruler he passed
Over them when we first met. He said it was
So we were sure to start on the right foot and
There’d be no misunderstandings. I don’t
Misunderstand, I just plain don’t understand.
He says it’s better that way.
He bitterly throws a cough forcing me
Back into my seat. I ask for repentance
But he says there are scores to keep and
If I want to stay on the right side of him
I better learn how to tally the highs and
Lows of a bitter wind. He laughs at me,
A deep petty laugh I cannot see but know
Is there behind his eyes and inadequately
Covered by the hint of a sneer. He’s old
And I want to forgive his manner but
He asks too much with the hammering of
His words into my sluggish thoughts as he
Whimsically calls them. I settle for sitting
In silence as he takes to the table and attempts
To acquaint me with the skills he acquired
From a life spent entertaining himself. I
Force applause from my swollen hands, my
Knuckles still red from the ruler he passed
Over them when we first met. He said it was
So we were sure to start on the right foot and
There’d be no misunderstandings. I don’t
Misunderstand, I just plain don’t understand.
He says it’s better that way.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Post 12: 060506 Poem
The Heart Only I See
There's a small scrap of food in the shape
of a heart on the table in front of me.
I've been sitting here an hour but only
just noticed its bright red skin and
the way its adhered to the fake grain.
I don't think either of the other two people
sitting around me have noticed. One
just pulled out several notebooks and
begins writing furiously as if trying his
hardest not to notice. The other
groans periodically at the grainy television
beside him and hides in his stapled sheets
of paper with their scrawled words
enhanced by an indulgent highlighter.
He refuses to notice. i brush away thoughts of
drawing a large arrow and decide instead
to take pride in the little heart
only i can see even though it sits in plain sight.
There's a small scrap of food in the shape
of a heart on the table in front of me.
I've been sitting here an hour but only
just noticed its bright red skin and
the way its adhered to the fake grain.
I don't think either of the other two people
sitting around me have noticed. One
just pulled out several notebooks and
begins writing furiously as if trying his
hardest not to notice. The other
groans periodically at the grainy television
beside him and hides in his stapled sheets
of paper with their scrawled words
enhanced by an indulgent highlighter.
He refuses to notice. i brush away thoughts of
drawing a large arrow and decide instead
to take pride in the little heart
only i can see even though it sits in plain sight.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Post 2: 030506 Spring TXT Poetry
Spring: TXT Format
I
Th bloatd belly of a wrm
ngorgd on moist erth
dgestn th rchnss
of a newbrn seasn
plckd by a probn beak
perchd bneath razr I’s
desperit 2 still
th bayn of spring
III
We walk her & I
Wth fingers entwind
& let Th sun share th beauty
of our 1st kiss
as I thread a daisy Chain
& crown my love
& she bestows her lips
upon my cheek
IV
I heard th cricket calling
Cum out cum out & play
Th buds will soon b bloomn
& th sun has found its way
Th season of rebirth has cum
So cum out cum out & play
V
Winta lookd wth bleary I’s
& calld in a fadin voice
u wil miss me whn Im gon
& spring has hd its way
& soon enuff I wil reclaim
tht which spring hath stole away
VI
I woke 2 a distant yernin
2 walk th paths o childhood
2 watch th fantails flitin
2 listen 2 th crockd brook sing
2 lie upon th grss & muse
Upon th joys o spring
VII
I walk bside th babble
& watch th stars upon it gleam
Beneath its crystal surface
Th cockabillies scurry
& Above where my I’s linger
Dragonflies venerate th day
VIII
wthn these concrete parks
& hi-rise apartmnt bloks
I found a lonsum dafodil
Wedgd btween th craks
Wth mjestic strain it
bowd 2 proclaim
Wthout u wed take it bac
IX
Seed
Scattered
Bitter wind
Lost
Battered
Smothered,
Bound
Found
Finally crowned
Bloomed
Pruned
And mothered.
XI
Color me wth childish pansies
hang me frm sharply dressd lims
serenade me wth matin calls
it mite b th season
but I no th reason
im wearin th broadest of grins
XII
I saw the sun go down on bended knee
and propose with longing to the earth
she smiled sadly and whispered in reply
“I accept, though I know it cannot last.”
XIII
An itsy bitsy tiny ant
Startd up a flower stem
Dawn a distant rumor
The sun a long lost friend
& with all its strength
It pushd & heavd
2 bring spring bac again
XIV
She rousd herself frm dreamin
& raisd her weary head
She blinkd into th sunlite
& stretchd upon th bed
She briefly thort of gettin up
But returnd 2 sleep instead
XV
A possum spoke to me
As he ate an apple core
I don’t hav a penny
Jst an empty paw
But if u r of kindness made
Please sir give me more
XVI
I like eatn
strawberries in th sun
I like ice cream 2
Even when it runs
I like dandy lions
& makn daisy chains
I even like gettn wet
In gntle springtime rains
XVII
I once had a dollar
that my mother gave to me
and in my infinite wisdom
I planted it to see
if by the coming of next spring
there would grow a money tree
XVIII
I went 4 a walk & fought
th urge 2 engulf th street I walkd on
th sun shone so sweetly
glazn th world wth nectar
makn a delectable feast 4 th eyes
XIX
Th swng swept arcs amngst th powdrd blue
as I lay withn th grss lookn up at u
th memory of our kiss ws lost amngst th dew
beside our erly mornin tyst in th prk
XX
Shh said th gntle breeze
Th day has things 2 say
Cant u hear th flwers whsper
Cant u hear th water sing
Cant u hear th grss in chorus
Gve praise 2 buding spring
XXI
Th field mouse scurred
wth panickd stride
& shrill sqeek
frm husk 2 core
least sumthn b lost
& th chance 2 feed
his growin brood
b vanquishd
by a cunnin squall
XXII
Frm 16 stories up
I watchd a butterfly dance
on th lip of a newly blossomd lilac
precariously procurd
in a neighbors planter
& new
tht spring had come 2 dine
I
Th bloatd belly of a wrm
ngorgd on moist erth
dgestn th rchnss
of a newbrn seasn
plckd by a probn beak
perchd bneath razr I’s
desperit 2 still
th bayn of spring
III
We walk her & I
Wth fingers entwind
& let Th sun share th beauty
of our 1st kiss
as I thread a daisy Chain
& crown my love
& she bestows her lips
upon my cheek
IV
I heard th cricket calling
Cum out cum out & play
Th buds will soon b bloomn
& th sun has found its way
Th season of rebirth has cum
So cum out cum out & play
V
Winta lookd wth bleary I’s
& calld in a fadin voice
u wil miss me whn Im gon
& spring has hd its way
& soon enuff I wil reclaim
tht which spring hath stole away
VI
I woke 2 a distant yernin
2 walk th paths o childhood
2 watch th fantails flitin
2 listen 2 th crockd brook sing
2 lie upon th grss & muse
Upon th joys o spring
VII
I walk bside th babble
& watch th stars upon it gleam
Beneath its crystal surface
Th cockabillies scurry
& Above where my I’s linger
Dragonflies venerate th day
VIII
wthn these concrete parks
& hi-rise apartmnt bloks
I found a lonsum dafodil
Wedgd btween th craks
Wth mjestic strain it
bowd 2 proclaim
Wthout u wed take it bac
IX
Seed
Scattered
Bitter wind
Lost
Battered
Smothered,
Bound
Found
Finally crowned
Bloomed
Pruned
And mothered.
XI
Color me wth childish pansies
hang me frm sharply dressd lims
serenade me wth matin calls
it mite b th season
but I no th reason
im wearin th broadest of grins
XII
I saw the sun go down on bended knee
and propose with longing to the earth
she smiled sadly and whispered in reply
“I accept, though I know it cannot last.”
XIII
An itsy bitsy tiny ant
Startd up a flower stem
Dawn a distant rumor
The sun a long lost friend
& with all its strength
It pushd & heavd
2 bring spring bac again
XIV
She rousd herself frm dreamin
& raisd her weary head
She blinkd into th sunlite
& stretchd upon th bed
She briefly thort of gettin up
But returnd 2 sleep instead
XV
A possum spoke to me
As he ate an apple core
I don’t hav a penny
Jst an empty paw
But if u r of kindness made
Please sir give me more
XVI
I like eatn
strawberries in th sun
I like ice cream 2
Even when it runs
I like dandy lions
& makn daisy chains
I even like gettn wet
In gntle springtime rains
XVII
I once had a dollar
that my mother gave to me
and in my infinite wisdom
I planted it to see
if by the coming of next spring
there would grow a money tree
XVIII
I went 4 a walk & fought
th urge 2 engulf th street I walkd on
th sun shone so sweetly
glazn th world wth nectar
makn a delectable feast 4 th eyes
XIX
Th swng swept arcs amngst th powdrd blue
as I lay withn th grss lookn up at u
th memory of our kiss ws lost amngst th dew
beside our erly mornin tyst in th prk
XX
Shh said th gntle breeze
Th day has things 2 say
Cant u hear th flwers whsper
Cant u hear th water sing
Cant u hear th grss in chorus
Gve praise 2 buding spring
XXI
Th field mouse scurred
wth panickd stride
& shrill sqeek
frm husk 2 core
least sumthn b lost
& th chance 2 feed
his growin brood
b vanquishd
by a cunnin squall
XXII
Frm 16 stories up
I watchd a butterfly dance
on th lip of a newly blossomd lilac
precariously procurd
in a neighbors planter
& new
tht spring had come 2 dine
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