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Seven Nielsen Jun 2021
When you question, you accuse
When you question, you will lose
Always  nod and soon agree
Always nod and say, 'I see'
Seven Nielsen Oct 2021
Tears abandon
on the way
mark each heartfelt
Seven Nielsen Apr 2021
Adrienne has flown to become the lovely moon
       and her ageless face is always toward me
Seven Nielsen Dec 2020
her see
tiny men
thatching roofs
and smiling down
pointing out fish-eye stones
and Kuhli Loaches

her think
that all she sees
are Ginger Sticks for Alice
Guppies, Aspens, Piggies, Birch.
a ladder, just for Alice.
Seven Nielsen Feb 2021
the sunset
was like melted rubies
bathed by a topaz spring --
above it all
two amorphous pearl clouds drifted
rimmed with molten gold
and the lake
was a mirrored goddess
with moonlight in her lazuline eyes
and stars in her lavender hair
Seven Nielsen Aug 2021
A tear comes with each poem
    written on the earth

Even with a happy tone
     a tear comes with each poem
Seven Nielsen Nov 2020
She looks so good in organdy,
Everything light and fair.
White on white, her favorite look,
It went so well with her hair.

I see what you mean of ivory on bone,
But rosiness has its place.
All that white is a lily on snow,
While pink gives life to the face.

She needs that blush of healthy glow,
Not so pale and weak.
If you think she looks natural now,
You should have seen her last week.
Seven Nielsen Jul 2021
at Twilight Inn
lanky Larry's crown
is a sweaty bandana creased with concern --
Tia gave him a bad haircut
and it just can't be fixed
          --no way--
Is it a crafty woman's test of love?
or her clumsy try at a good impression?
         Can't say
It'll take two weeks to heal--
          Two weeks of Larry's loving resentment
Seven Nielsen Jun 2021
Charred 2x4 fingers reaching to heartless clouds
as if begging Olympian gods to revoke Time's cruel jest
and reverse the flames of hellish appetite
to re-edify the humble house of a mishandled youth

Even a hovel is better than a pit

Sad-soaked earth in muddy remnants
of firehose ***** wet accusatory shoes
in apologetic licks
fake-begging forgiveness
while secretly hiding
sardonic grins of Neroesque thrills
of remembered flames while
tongue-stroked teeth proclaim victory
of one more pyromaniacal gorge
to be relived
and relived
and filed in the gray-matter library of ***** memories
to summon and chew for pleasure
on nights filled with the vacuum-gape
of nothing in particular

One Swinburneian spark whispers
while the Housmanian bat-squeak urges
and the Voltaireian whale-breach booms

The only dark, wet echo that sounds
in the unfeeling distance is
"Why not?  I like orange."
and four more lives are swept
into the storm drain
with the suet and burnt dreams
Seven Nielsen Jun 2021
with jewel-box vistas
the hopeful heart thrills
of amethyst giants
behind emerald hills

a carpet of lavender
blooms all around
while tourmaline waters
echo the sound

the sapphire shadows
on high-mountain snows
melt into diamonds
of glittering flows

from halcyon gold
on cupola domes
to pearl-pink love
in Bulgarian homes

the heart of the land
is bejeweled and complete
with tender devotion
both precious and sweet
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
-------------------Can I drive?--------------------------
                              De­ath asked
                                and got into the car
                                ahead of her
                              She didn't answer
                           but took the wheel
                      as usual
                  Music? Death suggested,
            pointing to the radio
       with his skeletal hand
       but she paid no attention
        driving up the on-ramp
           and picking up speed
                 You still have chocolate
                       on your chin,
                              Death lied
                                   She turned the
                                          rear-view mirror
                                              to check her face -
                                                That is when
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
He heard and said, "I see."
He saw and said, "I hear you."
He saw what he had done,
and said, "Don't do as I do."
Seven Nielsen Sep 2021
in a filmy lacquer
like a child's secret utterance
                         ­        based on nothing at all
are like blemishes in an otherwise perfect diamond

How, in a lugubrious world
can there be
mines beneath shallow graves
dug by slaves with crossed fingers
and frightening visions
of those thousand-foot-deep-burial-wells
drilled into the forehead of the world
     in fake-searching
              of a new
                        and magic
           ­                                         to brag-mix
into toothpaste or 'new and improved' Brylcreem
  (now formulated for your pets and guaranteed to make a difference)

                                             PLEASE NOTE:
A child's wish or question should be disqualified due to the lack
of subtext and connived distortion to fashion the desired answer
                                                or result

The space between burial plots
is reserved to bury the mental oozings
of wishers and questioners
and the ceremonies are to be torchlit processions
       ­                                 into
                           ­               rotting
                                          ­      cemeteries
                                      near darkened woods
                                 on the edge of civilizations
              where truth sleeps in the above-mentioned shallow graves

There are caves and mines below,
                                                      you know
                 encroached and heavily toothed
                 with stalactites
                 and stalagmites
                 of stalac-rights
                 and stalag-wrongs
                 of revivalist lies
                 gurgling up in groundseepage
                 of blackened deceit
                 fought with limp-wristed efforts
                 by attempting reasoning
                 and pale blue innocence
                 which always clouds up the lovely prejudice in play

Do wishes petrify
or just hold very still under glass
to not frighten the proctors
or their undeveloped wards
                                                  in hoards
                                                          ­      on field trips?

The secret to making wishes come true is hidden in the puzzle:

                    K         R          O          W

                    R                   ­                 O
                    O                                    R

 ­                   W         O           R          K

                     unscramble and despair

The current judges always remain unmoved
and refuse to blow out the candles
until the day that someone judges THEM
in all prejudice and bias of the mind
of good and proper scale bearers
and compromised judges

What might the answer be
when a foolish soul, surrounded in questions, asks,
"Does anyone have change for a parent?
It seems I only have a single father to my name."

"I have two career choices in the arts, so I can break him."
           is the reply
            answeres the hopeful.
"I need four erroneous opinions to fit into his ear
or the machinery doesn't grind to a halt.
Doesn't anyone have the proper change?"

It looks like someone always sits on the low end
of the teeter-totter of wishes

Won't anyone play with me?
I wish someone would
I need contra-ballast

                    ­               Is everyone here made of stone?
Seven Nielsen May 2021
Each day begins as an unwrapped gift
that when opened should be lived
in the most hopeful way
Sometimes I feel like rewrapping my gift
and going back to bed
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
When silence is demanded
it is like being
how unkind
Seven Nielsen Apr 2021
        a poem
                  have to be
                                 to be on Front page ?                       
                                                                ­    ?
                                                           ­          ?
                                                               ­       ?
                                                               ­         ?
                                                             ­             ?
                                                             ­                ?
                                                               ­                 ?
                                              ­                                       ?
                        ­                                                                 ­  ?
                                                             ­                                   ?
                            ­                                                                 ­        ?
                                                               ­      (I'm asking for a friend)
Seven Nielsen Feb 2021
At T's funeral
Fat Carlo took his shoes off
first thing
and he did it with that secret little smile of his
. . . watching . . .

He stretched out the laces all crooked
like mangled snakes
mud-brown and sickly pistachio-green
with aglet heads worn down to
right in front of everyone
. . . goading . . .

The wound on his big toe
'that don't never heal'
is a trophy of his careless barefoot run
with his crip-dog
and that violent tantrum after reading
Colosimo's political column
in the Bugle
about democrats stealing water shares
. . . seething . . .

Chalk up Fat Carlo's actions
to his constant fits of
and his hillbilly upbringing
. . . prodding  . . .

And, it's because he won't listen to Paola's demands
about keeping his shoes on in public
or not picking his teeth with a safety pin --
always riding her in lowdown ways
. . . taunting  . . .

Just keep praising Paola
for her stupid things
like O-Cedar-waxing the casket
or the raspberry-Renuzit-spray-shower
she gave the mortuary
before the service
'just in case'
. . . showboating  . . .

Carlo gets mad whenever he hears
anyone complement his Paola --
do it anyway
it really gets to him
and if you make Paola smile
she might give you a slice
of her special mocha cake
after we're done with grief  
. . . faking . . .
Seven Nielsen Jan 14
The tall western fires
fill my valley with gypsy smoke
painting the hills gray
and the distant mountains blue

The morning comes
licking the meadows with dew
and the smoke pauses for a mocking look
    then, shrugging,
                   quietly caravans away
Seven Nielsen Mar 2021
                                                   A new
                                                             to the
                                                             ­ at large
                                                           ­  and
       ­                                       learned  
                                        to hear
                                   the voice
                                of the
                                  of the
                                           in those
  ­                                                         that come
                                                            ­    when the
                                                             ­         heavy
                                                  ­                       stone
                                                           ­                of
                                                                ­          trials
                                                ­                         is placed
                                                                ­     around
                                                                ­  the necks
                                                           ­    of each
                                                          of us.
   ­                                               Is
             ­                            truly
                               ­     the
                  or a
                a presence
                     the earth
                       or even
                           the universe?
                ­                     it is
               ­                                 greater
                                                        than this
                                                            ­   and yet
                                                             ­      smaller
                                                         ­            than
                                                            ­         the
                                                                ­    tiniest
                                                                ­   grain
                                                           ­      of
                                                     it has
                                            the value
                                      of the
                that the
           ­                                     freely
                     ­                                 down
                           ­                                 into
                           ­                                     our
                        ­                                           hearts.
                                                       ­            ~~~
                                                             ­      So
                                                              ­    look
                                                        ­        forward
                                                 ­            child
    ­                                                are
             ­                                         in the
                                                        ­       of the
                                                             ­         creator
                                                         ­                     of all
                                                             ­                      things
                                                          ­                            and
                                 ­                                                       He
       ­                                                                 ­                  is
                                                             ­                              talking
                                                                ­                          directly
                              ­                                                            to
                                                                ­                        you.
Seven Nielsen Aug 2021
To Poetry I say
And Poetry answers
          'Come in and create'
Then I say
          'I will do my best'
To which Poetry answers
          'I know'
Seven Nielsen Dec 2021
orange flames
in midnight skies
where goes the smoke?
whence comes the flies?

the dawn of hope
in cyan sings
here come the clouds
on angel's wings
Seven Nielsen Dec 2021
Where did courage grab me by the neck
and force me onward?

Was it when I was hiding behind the piles of ship's cargo
where bravery took over?
Or was it when duty elbowed my excuses
into the dark waters of my easy fear?

I know a chill spat down my soul
and a steel fist closed around my weak resolve
when I heard her voice beyond my cowardly hiding place

"He doesn't initially care", she lied
with that ever-present word of hers, "initially"
Truth snapped onto focus in the mirror on life
"I guess you're initially right", I also lied
jumping out of the trenches
feeling the air suddenly leave the earth

The final confrontation flew around us
like a fruit bat in a fire
ending with a quick exit
and angry footsteps
fading on the weathered planks
of the indifferent old dock

Courage finally released my neck
and the air began to fill
the vacuum
around me

after that
in such a battleground
could I still enjoy a blood-red sun
setting over sailboats
bobbing in a row
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
Concur . . .
           of that
           I'm sure
Seven Nielsen Oct 2021
When I see formations in the clouds
of a lion laying next to a lamb
I envision myself
I am a noble lion
the the lamb
is a Hershey bar
with almonds
Seven Nielsen Aug 2021
Meg's little white Pomeranian puppy
should not be named Cotton
the way she hops up and down and runs around --
She should be called Popcorn and kept in a sack
Seven Nielsen Apr 2021
in rain-pour thoughts, I wandered lost
and could not guess the dreaded cost
among the drops of hopes and fears
which were rain, and which were tears?
Seven Nielsen Dec 2020
I shatter like a crystal glass
a marble floor
when your disapproval
hits me
fired from that rosebud
Seven Nielsen Nov 2020
of pearls
broke and
scattered upon
the floor, popping
as they hit parquet
and hummed in
all directions
like tiny




Your pearls
are off to places
unknown!  You may
lose some of them in the
shadows of this dim ballroom.
Quickly, we must gather them
with our fans and the skirts
of our gowns to be sure.
Anne sighed and said,
Don't upset yourself,
Lady Gwendoline.
They are just a
sad remnant
of Eddy's

                                 ­       genuine.
Seven Nielsen Mar 2021
----------------------Life behind the enforced mask------------
                       imposed by the pernicious drive
                  of certain granite eidolons
                to control others
                with gray fears
                     leaves me
                                               such  a
                                                      ­      closed
                                                    ­                    door
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
Lift, and you sour                                                      high from the low
     scorn, and you lose                                          joy from the sad      
            cry, and you bore                              lark from the crow               
                 sing, and you choose    >    good from the bad
Seven Nielsen Aug 2021
Like me -
I'm alone

Like me -
I'm ignored

Like me -
I'm sad

Like me -
I'm rich

NOW you like me?
Seven Nielsen Dec 2020
with sweet
lithe tongue, my
sanguine heart will hear.
If you sing refrains unsung,
my soul becomes a tear.
But, if you say you
love me not,
I will not
For you are all there is of me,
Seven Nielsen Feb 2021
Sitting somewhere to this day
Lizzy's hatchet hides away
Only Lizzy knows its place
Wrapped in blood-soaked antique lace
Seven Nielsen Dec 2020
Lo, pray to Him in gloaming
When day has bid farewell
As men have ceased their roaming
When angels come to dwell

He is our Holy Sentry
He is the watchful Eye
In Him is granted entry
In Him, all fear must die

Lo, pray to Him at first light
When sights again are true
As men are granted new sight
Give thanks for life anew
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
Marie called
I lost my thoughts --

They were good thoughts too
But, I still love Marie
Seven Nielsen Feb 2021
loving you is like
folding a fitted sheet --
there is a way to do it
but no one knows
what it is
Seven Nielsen Jun 2021
We should honor men of yore
country squires who lived before
men who came of noble roots
hedged by horses, crops, and boots -

Who replaced those men of yore
men whose presence filled a door
men who wouldn't take the bait
of the latest thing to hate?

There are those who you can find
of the selfless, meek, and kind -
But, these days those men are feared
by the jealous, they are jeered -

Here we watch accusing fools
weaving all their woke-up rules -
Why do they do what they do?
Because the devil told them to -
Seven Nielsen Mar 2021
see the trees on the hills
my friend?
they are the knowing eye

see all the starlings in flight
my dear?
they listen in the sky

see all the rivers and the lakes
my love?
they know my soulful call

all of them know the thoughts
of my heart
they know that you are my all
Seven Nielsen Feb 2021
with you
thoughts of you
your graceful stirring
your lilting voice in song
your eyes as cerulean jewels
your hands in lovely moving
your gentle brow in resting
your smile in tenderness
your heart in kindness
your sweet resolve
your calm spirit
all of the beautiful things
that blend to make you and only you
Seven Nielsen Mar 2021
the clover and the bee
held a requiem for my departing spirit
though I had not died
nor had I crossed that river of ghostly intersession
spoken of -- in hushed tones
between illness and that last soft breath
in darkened apricot-bathed chambers
of deepest reverence

lavender light shone in the pupil of Death's eye
glowing his ravenous invitation to me
cruelly -- at my weakest state
between the yellowed bedclothes of illness
and the bone-white shroud of sleeping clay

my stalwart spirit jumped to remembrance
of that hidden strength
in my secret cupboard
of once-forgotten thoughts
where sunny, buzzing meadows
are locked away -- for such a needy day
long nourished on blossomed perfume and
the sweet honey
of my innermost ponderings
and hopes

with every sinew of my last effort
I rallied with uncertain goad
and sitting straight
I whispered
Death heard that word as a shout
and flew
on bat-winged terror
the round window
in my soul
leaving me whole
and alone
with the fragrance of the clover
and hearing only the breeze
and the friendly hum
of my physician
golden honeybee
This piece is dedicated, in heart and style, to Emily Dickinson.
Seven Nielsen Jun 2021
---- never say, ---
 "circle back" --
it makes
  cringe                                           ­   crowd
   and                                            in              sa­ddest
    light                                       all                     the
      a pity                                    of                       follow
          candle                                  histo­ry          to
                in their soul                                       likes
                             for another                       who
                                           ­   lemming-dupe
Seven Nielsen Nov 2021
Divert my eyes from her smooth hair
Discern her hidden thoughts of care

Of lofty dreams, that might be won
My small hope is near the sun
Seven Nielsen Jan 2021
one word
in poetic form
and I will melt with
the joy of hearing that
singular sound
for an artful
word is
of an
on the
of my
and my soul
drinks that word
to its healing
as though
it is the
Seven Nielsen Aug 2021
A lothario beat my time
with two words quite sublime
        when I said, 'obey'
         he said, 'no way'
and beat me up with his rhyme
Seven Nielsen Oct 2021
On Halloween
the monsters scare
in ghastly gray, both skin and hair
their one good eye will always stare
at where you hide
they'll find you there
Seven Nielsen May 2021
Opening the heart
is like the blossoming of a flower --
Once begun
it is easy to make miracles happen --
Seven Nielsen Apr 2021
Pity the wolf that hungers after unattainable flesh
and the man who hem-haws excuses
to a boss, a wife, or a critic with a tapping foot
and a walrus mustache beneath a gin-blossomed schnozz
and above a smoke-coffee breath
just waiting to jump in with a negative judgment
and superior attitude

Pity the lamb that encounters the wolf
with a last hoof-dance of submission before dying
in choked and bleeding silence
to be wolfed down -
or the haughty judge or the humble sojourner
one on the high bench
and the other on the low flame
remaining in the tepid zone
never hot enough to burn away the betrayals of "friends"
who giggle and smirk
the minute he leaves a room
because of jealous burrs beneath
their burdensome self-imposed saddles

Evict the aching heart of "might be love"
but also beware of the heart of "just for now"
in spite of a flirt at the punch bowl
or a punch at the Super Bowl -
(they are the same thing in a way)
if you enter the competition
the trophy doesn't have a palpitating heart
but the loser does
and so does the winner in anticipation of the judgments;
bad, good, or best in show
or even the gray-skinned badge of


Envy the poor without schedule or purse
and no merciless fear of competition
nor door key to hunt-up under the dusty mat
in the dark, alone
nor houseplant to **** with the over-kindness of drowning
nor hinge to mend with duct tape and false hope
but he who flits away to nothing important
having no one to object

Envy the friendless who can storm off from a spat
without compunction or a "maybe I should have"
trailing like toilet paper
stuck on the heel
of a shoe

Envy the humiliated caterpillar
who finds himself to be a moth
instead of the monarch butterfly
he thought he would be
when he emerges from his cocoon
thinking it was a chrysalis
because the responsibilities end
when the burden of beauty is lost
and the new moth will soon forget
what might have been
in the constant effort of plain existence

Evict the housefly posing as a harmless spot
and throw away his home
that rotting plumb
because the fruit of deceit is worse
than the deceit of fruit gone bad
on the hidden side
to feed the filthy insect in secret

Does a raven learn to speak on his own?
Does a raven learn to steal on his own?

Where there is darkness, there is learning
where there is light, there is teaching
and always resentment or boasting
so learn to keep your mouth shut in the dark
until you learn a secret or two
then you can chat like a hairdresser
until you trip up a braggart trying to outdo everyone
because an unmasked lie is like water cast on a single flame
stifling a forest fire before its first real heartbeat
Envy the tiny grains of sand on the shores
for they hold back the mighty seas
with their tiny hands
and are flattered by the lapping waves
like slaves with ostrich-plume-fans
worshipping in genuflections and kowtows
and all in the most genuine humility
that sand can muster in a crowd


Envy the coils of the brain
for they are there to provide more surface
and those folds have no scintillating hue like blood
for the elephant is gray and the ladybug is red
one can think and **** with a step
but the other can fly but must soon perish
the brain can reason
but blood turns black and dies
when it comes into light and air

Evict the vivid for it will give up the ghost
envy the drab for it will inherit the girth


Pity your own resolve
for you administer promises to your pillow each night
and swear oaths to the mirror each morning
like a child in detention
or an old soul in self-deception
each with good intention
but neither with gray-matter retention

Envy the broken heart
for reality has breakage and sorrow
but healing always follows
and the truth
when faced
can never be truly denied
and the mended bone is stronger than at first


Eviction is that final stance
at the cliff's edge
having come to the sea of eternity
with all the summoned bravery possible
holding the rubble of broken imaginings
and self-deceptions
wrapped in the ****** garb of new determination
after the battle
to be thrown into the deep
weighted with the stones of promise

do the right thing

Cast your lies
into the draught

and begin new-faced in the world
Self-examination gives us keys to many doors, but it does not guarantee that even one of those doors will be opened.
Seven Nielsen Jul 2021
Poets dream in rhyme
and stop the hands of time
They see the mountain's peak
and seek to make the climb

Poets dream in rhyme
then move the hands of time
They hear the soul's request
and speak the words sublime
Seven Nielsen Nov 2021
the blood has gone black
on my boots and the floor
chopping up heads
piles up the gore

the *** is now brimming
with eyeballs and skin
the cauldron now bubbles
it's time to begin

I'll ladle a bowl
of half-done meat
my Halloween soup
of fingers and feet

won't you accept
my summons to dine?
what will it take
your life or mine?
Seven Nielsen Jan 14
Precious raindrops tumble down
weaving nature's beaded gown

Lilting breezes stir the air
braiding Gaia's silver hair

Bees and warblers hum and sing
when the snow caps melt in spring

Diamond streamlets dance along
with their joyous crystal song

Waterfalls in feathered white
cascade from their noble height

Winter's chains all break away
leaving life to greet the day
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