Travelogue

There is no bed beneath dreams

Madagascar wove of children reaching

aphrodisiac watermelons, rind ground between

teeth and veins, time whittled

against dagger-thin ribs.

 

Therein the child sees fingers clasp watermelons

in the rain, whistling as his father

whistles for the matted dog in cassava brush

to clothe itself in their stray hut

from the animal greed of the skyborne vibrance.

 

Desperation is his dream, where

the little hands roam and bleed seedlings

for every golden drop of nectar

noontide malevolence does not suck

into the sky, away from his naked earth.

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In Nature

“We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.” ~ Native American Proverb

Nothing clears the mind quite like a weekend in the mountains. A (surprisingly) stifling heater in the cabin didn’t hurt of course, but it just made the impact of walking out those doors and into the sunny, snow-struck earth all the more striking. Now it’s back to the real world. At least I face it refreshed.

Solstice Tanka

I wanted something suitably nature-oriented for this special One Shot Wednesday – since the party begins on Tuesday, after all, and this Tuesday is the summer solstice, the longest and (hopefully) most beautiful of days. My inspiration seemed cut off by grey clouds this morning, sadly, but with the afternoon there seems to have come a break in the haze of summer, treating my muse to blue skies and colored fields. In that same vein, I tried to step outside my usual, and go for a touch of tanka.

Hope the weather’s treating you all as kindly. May it be a fertile day for creativity!

Mother dances green

Before Father’s skyward kiss.

Sweet husband Golden

Pirouetting long shadows

Across her blossom billows.

And here’s a bit of greenery to put a little summer slant into your day…cheers!

Image property of: Chris Galford.

Confession

Humanity confessed disease.

Sobered, the clay laughed,

and bitterly it asked

if that came with ease –

no solemn song

might ever heed its wrong.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!

Midnight Mountain Ride

Midnight ring

nightingale screech of metal grind

vestiges of slumber—

in silent Chaos writhe

the World all sheltered black,

this Veil, it doth descend

betwixt the Heavens and the Earth

no more Fire, no more Song

yet Dappled Emeralds gleam

throughout the Haze of Waking

this World rise, Higher and Higher

tilting back, breathing in

the clouds, circling pull

Dream yet from Reality

and Everything of this Canvas,

rides Higher still into the Night

Destination: World

set it all below, and looking down

bask within the Golden River Shadow

of History shaped and cast

into the Towers of Majesty

Beyond Imagination—

the Stars and the Sea,

no King might ever rise

so High as thee.

* Another poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! The theme this week was mountains and beaches, and I couldn’t help but think back to my most recent venture in Colorado. This one was inspired by my time there in the summer–I hope you enjoy! Hope you don’t mind that I also took the opportunity to throw in some more of my pictures from that trip, even if they don’t match up quite specifically with the poem itself.

Elemental Elation

Bear me up

Rustling cavalcade of coalescing

Music rush, on tempo speed

These breaths across my skin.

The harmony

Of your exultation

Gives me strength

Beneath my wings.

–

Crystal flow

Caress and coax

The resolution of my being,

Dive down into the deep.

Crash upon

The shores of apathy

And stir upon us yet the storms

That break inequity.

–

Quick-step

Quivering motions elate

To find the kiss, the touch of motion

In the sensuous sway of your dance.

No hands

Could ever hold thy hips

This beat, thunder of thy solitary

Moment, unbidden.

–

Bastion

Rampart revelry of life

Shield yet the passions of hope,

A dream of majesty.

Resolute

Mother-being enfold

The world in thy being:

Ground this flighty soul.

* For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!

A Man, A King

What is a man but

Flesh and bone gave breath;

Such mortal beast

To buck beneath

The reins of my imagination.

Cry out for me, ye bloodied hands

I am the stones arise on emerald hills

My flesh the graven gold

Of toiling back and grinding axe.

My blood be thee and thine

All rivers flow to mine

Call me God, for all I see is all I am

A fire in the earth

Tempered in the sea of sable madness

Yet to swim, yet to circumnavigate

My ambition, this thing of steel

No land might ever satisfy

The hunger of my soul.

All songs, they sing for me

Each note a dirge unto my memory.

Each breath, praise, for it is mine divine

Providence, they say, a god-in-man

Whoso could ever hope to say

I could not turn the tides.

I am the horse that rides,

I am the bolt that flies,

I am the child that cries,

He whom only fate defies.

Behold my majesty and yet despair

Of he who masters everyone

And nothing, and no one, still.

For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!

Deception

Photo by Chris Galford

The fire dips beneath the azure sea;

All eyes turn to their own hands.

No one spies the serpents slithering

From the long stretched shadows

Of a garden ripe with glistening fruit.

Demons whisper in the peoples’ ears—

The straw cast down,

The crows descend.

Fruit rots and garden fades—

Ravens circle high above

The corpses of the fools.

Old men stir within their ancient tombs—

The dream is dead,

Another Rome, decayed.

–

For The Thursday Poets Rally, Week 28.

Contained

The walls arise,

stacked atop a pile of numbers–

lettered maze

enfold the secrets of the world

between thy shifting corridors

of papered thoughts

and novel dreams.

Fight your life to be entombed

in shadowed corner fair

locked beneath the earth–

a cool, a dusted prisoner

handled only vacantly

by young eyes consumed

by deadlines foul.

Upon the Precipice

Eyes open to the brink

I stand

Broken upon the edge

And though the sky is beating down

You are still above me

Always looking down.

Stretching for the dreams

Beyond your clouds

I burned within the strain

This arrogance has wrought,

And as the fire surged

I took it for desire

Obsession blinds

Focus the mind, focus the soul

Too late

All crumbling down,

The earth races

The sky screams

And I am tumbling through

This dear embrace

To something far more real.