Cover Up

Image by and copyright Walter Parada.

Red rivers ride

fluttering flags.

A smile and a hand, freely offered

belie the tip—

it’s not a stick you know

that I’ll stick you with,

not a dream doused with dreamers.

God or Man

the mortar drips

beneath the marble—

just a dab of purity to hide

stained hands,

strawberry walls—

Humanity

drifting.

* A piece for this week’s edition of One Shoot Sunday. This week features an interview I had with the talented Californian photographer Walter Parada. I was very grateful for the images he chose to share with us, as I find them all to be absolutely striking, from his landscapes to his portraits, and on to the image featured above.

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Welcome to Rapture

Inspired by all this silly Rapture business so many are apparently getting up in arms about today. Because, yes, that’s correct, the world is apparently going to end today…never mind the man that made the prediction made the same prediction in 1994…

Into my maw impart

All sympathy, with mild ecstasy

The will to persevere

The thought—life

It ends in a note

Complacency

Was the hymn

Never mind the words

Rewritten by old hands

Every time the clock clicks past

The deadened hour.

Y2K rings no bells

I suppose

But Heaven kissing you with earthquakes—

Divine.

So what are you doing at the end of all times? Personally, I’m ushering things out with a BBQ. Seems the classy route to take.

Death of a Muse

Tender touches

twilight now

when you would walk through moon beams

silver youth, in my mind,

your long-tossed hair that fleeting glimpse

unworthy hands would never know.

A dream-wrought kiss

for all sensation’s cheer—

a note to set the pen to dance

beneath your light.

What is your name?

Reality, but a longing and a life

no bearing on the yearning—

the dreamer’s supple realm.

A thousand ships would sail for you,

in mind, while your eyes turned—

it wasn’t till the flesh took my hand,

crowned in cruel identity

cast me out to sea

that all those ships were set to burning.

* My latest contribution to One Shot Poetry Wednesday. This piece was essentially the second part to the post I made yesterday, on muses and their very real, physical departure, in the form of people. Yesterday I gave other people’s thoughts on muses, but today I put forth my own thoughts on the muse’s withdrawal. For those with a physical embodiment to their own creative drive…

Just a Man & a timely Senryu

No martyr, in death

A shadow on a cave wall—

A symbol stretching.

Photo by and copywrite Rosa Frei, as acquired from last week's "One Shoot Sunday."

Just a Man

Lights erupt on

paved hearts and bloodbound screams,

the sound, the roar

breathless lines in broken

exposition—

no words to mark

the dust in the wind,

the starlit flag

where planes and concrete fell,

bodies gathered in the mass

scarlet bloom

the flower of a shadow

planted in the towers’ ash

strains to desert sun,

painted by the people’s rage–

rots, like any other.

* My latest contribution to One Shot Poetry Wednesdays, obviously inspired by recent events. The Senryu derived directly from my send off quote on the night of the terrorist Osama Bin Laden’s death, and “Just a Man” followed early this morning. Both pertain to symbols, to mortality, with “Just a Man” adopting an almost cautionary tone…and I hope they stir some thought in my readers.

No More

“No more”

the old man cries,

spares the young men to die

forcing wrinkled face to greet life–

a lie.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! If you get the chance, be sure to check out all the other talented One Stop poets posting there – and what about yourself? If you haven’t signed up yet, and you’re among the creative…what are you waiting for?