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Ray Jordan Aug 19
I often find my posits dreadful,
Happiness flies merely fleet,
So much compounds, accosts a headful
Angry, gnawing, awful heat!
In joyful sorrow I must live
For truest joy is not to be
And frightened by, as laws decree,
A final debt, a life to give.
(Then summons me, my last repose,
To Heavens Gate, that some suppose.)

I cannot shed this melanchol’,
So Viper-like time’s turbulence,
Nor sally forth ‘pon brevet fall,
Conning self in feckless hence
When plaintiff Hell wraths from my lips,
“O’ Fie! Ye craven Viper! Fie!
Why should it be that I must die?”,
By fevered brain’s convulsive flips.
(As if a Viper’s state be blamed
For thus which gives me abject pain.)

And in these throes of torrid temper
Comes a hummingbird in flight,
Engaged in moments: basic, simpler,
Perfect-formed wee aero-sprite!
So happily he flits about
When seeking nectar, bloom-by-bloom,
In flowers bright as peacock plumes
And worries not of Earthly doubts.
(For hummingbirds have innate sense
Of urbane thoughts and true pretense.)

His playful flight in mayful flutter
Sagely parries ‘**** the trees
Through ev’ry leaf he flies a’scutter
Daring, as his heart will please!
My dearth, it seems, I now forget;
A tiny smile claims my face
And grows to full by levied grace
To pause my Earthly-borne regret!
(This newly forged respite from woe
Has cast away my pitied trow!)

What revelation rids my sadness
(All those worries disappear)
And what was anguish turns to gladness
Gone, the nagging mortal fears.
O’ they’ll return, I have no doubt,
To wrest my contemplative mind
But now assured that I can find
A joyful thought to fight such bout
I will forever carry near.
And to the hummingbird in flight
I’ll cherish how you drew my sight
To rid a foolish mortal’s tears.
(As hummingbirds will understand
The foibles taken by our hand.)
My writ of death and life by love of hummingbirds.
Ray Jordan Aug 18
I’d never mend you
For, as beautif’ly broken,
You are perfection.
Ray Jordan Aug 11
I walked a lonely mile
To seek love, unattained,
When I was but a child—
Alas, no love remained.

I walked a lonely mile,
Escape those uninspired
Caught up to the rank and file
And gave in when I tired.

I walked a lonely mile,
A distance I thought long,
But once I turned a’quile
Discovered I was wrong.

And being all the while,
In limit of my range,
I walked that lonely mile
Yet nothing ever changed.
Quile is an archaic term for coil. Using poetic license a’quile means to turn around or look back. I love using old English words in my poetry. They give me a greater sense of variety. Remember, boys and girls, poets have been the forefront of modern English.
Ray Jordan Aug 10
I often dream a Winter chalet
Nestled ‘pon a timbered hill,
Below display’n the snowy valley
Where a village braves the chill.
A fresh new snow invades to sally
Forth, to wit, yon scenic fill.

And evergreens lay low and heavy—
Look as tho’ they’re frosted treats—
And in a clear the children levy
Making merry when they meet,
And soon the church bells ring a’bevy:
Joyful days lay at my feet!
Yes, it’s Summer, I get it, but I love the French Alps and the villages that lay within the deep valleys. Winter there is enchanting!
Ray Jordan Aug 4
I’ll cherish this chance meeting
(I may never pass this way again),
These moments, Love, are fleeting
(I may never pass this way again).
As gentle hearts keep beating
Consecrating lives in sun and rain
Unto the next I’m greeting
(I may never pass this way again).
Woke up with this in my head, so I wrote it down as I had my morning coffee. This may have something to do with listening to Seals and Croft and the Eagles much of yesterday.
Ray Jordan Jul 28
When the moonlight hides behind looming clouds,
Lightning signals the tempest within,
Sonic rumblings deep in its shroud
Portents the restive, unruly din
Of the gathering storm.

To unveil this Tyrant’s burgeoning spring,
Great with terror, a dark presence looms,
Born unrivaled this terrible thing
Consumes the sky in a caste of gloom
From the gathering storm.

And the power awe-strikes torment for all,
Bids the groundling no place to retreat.
Shelter cannot protect from this pall!
A wary, battered, scornful deceit
Breeds the gathering storm.

And wind will ordain what the Earth must defend!
And raindrops untamed in a rage will descend!
And talk among Heads in this battle conspire,
Creating deep troughs in the muck and the mire!
The storm will increase with a shattering sound
And Heads will claim shelter, their troughs will abound!
And those who take sides to escape from the flood
Discover the real truth when trapped in the mud!

And when force conceived, unnat’ral, defined,
Takes the civil as lambs for slaughter,
Raises Cain when the Post reads unkind,
‘It’s time to hide your sons and daughters
From the gathering storm!
Satirical allegory. Yes, politically charged but not toward a specific party or ideal. The poem is written in a specific pattern for the first three stanzas. The fourth stanza has its own pattern and the fifth returns to the original pattern with a slight change at the end of the second and fourth lines. Took a bit to work out but this has possibilities for me. I like the process and will continue to develop this technique.
Ray Jordan Jul 21
By my imagined state grows timeless stroll
As walkway winds and wends through floral sights,
Sun rays quenching colors bright as pure gold
And I, entranced by limitless delight.

My walk has brought ‘pon rarest sight, a rose,
New in splendor; its being, its beauty,
Gazed by mortal man this moment. Her prose
Brings wonder: a child of Aphrodite,
So pure, so perfect, bestows me honor,
Deems me worthy, first sight her blessed grace?
Do such fortunes bring mind and sight to fore,
Smitten by welcome scent and petal face?

To ponder such encounters bears this claim
Of love! Cupid’s arrow pierces heart, dulls
My senses, yet inflames me through my veins
And love (O’ Love!) becomes my passion call!
In rapture, now enchanted, I declare,
“We will never part!” She must now be mine!
I alone, recognize her truest fair,
Pluck this gift, bring to fore, forever thine!

Lo’, I find folly tangled in this thought;
She will never live or see true purpose.
My plan, a crime against the essence sought
This Rose could not sustain. By rend of thus
I lay condemnation of certain death,
Let selfish Love rule my poor emotions
That I now ache in sorrowed epithet!
O’ how blind am I in false devotion!

But I have not, yet, torn Rose asunder.
She remains still complete in sight regale.
I am not the monster here to plunder,
I am, by guidance, he that right prevails.
Heart and mind as one in conscience reasons,
My Rose, my Love, is for all living things,
A courtesan beholden short of season
But what joyful presence for her I sing!

Time moves fast, impatient with my ration
(I have much of to see ‘for this journey’s end),
So, fond farewell my foundling love and passion,
My heart so weak that hope cannot amend.
With bittersweet smile this quest before me;
To walk this path in a joyful sorrow,
My Rose, this rose in cherished memory,
I’ll be miles away from here tomorrow.
It has taken a couple months to write this. I used the sonnet form of 5 feet per line( in iambic pentameter mostly). It’s a bit long but I didn’t want to condense the content or rush the process for sake of length.
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