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A small man with a big smell
when his seldom washed clothes were drying after rain.
Stubble chin, fish eye, loose lip
but always ready for0 the tankard's rim,                                    
especially if you were buying.

One of the dark ones, relics of the Bronze Age,
whose ancestors had thrown their seed,
thin grain upon the small and bitter acres that he worked.

Only the rocks grow well in the fields of the grey hills!

At first I thought him diminished,
crushed by the land itself,
it's possession a cancer devouring
and defeat an old coat lashed round his middle with wire.

But drunk once, on a market day,
lowing and jammed like stalled beasts
into the FARMERS bar, he stumbled,
hugged me close to steady himself
and roared out loud to the heedless herd,
with arm outstretched, ******* to the world,
"****** you boys! I am still here!

Nobody heard but me,
whose ear was riven by that yell
and sprayed with rich spittle.

True though, despite the braggadocio of beer,
with the grain of him deep and compacted
like the rocks he fought, he did endure.
here's a memory of a man i knew for a while when living and working in the far west of Cornwall
Carlo C Gomez Feb 10
Living on the toilsome trail
A mere speck
Without flight
Or even the aid
From a friendly leaf blower
I make my way
Upon my belly
Born to struggle
But shaped to endure
South City Lady Nov 2020
we claw through brittle days
       upon calloused hands
hearts chiseled into Celtic swords
                                  
                                       yet we hold on-

hunkering down through
       blistering nights,
trudging beneath
               the frosted moon,        
         awakening at mottled dawn, sleep deprived,
       riddled with a profound ache
for distant fairy stories
              
we will not surrender
      to shrieking banshees,
           to long-stemmed loneliness,
  to prevailing hunger,
                  to our minds' mischiefs fretting
        as shadows in    
                   unforgiving hours

      instead we galvanize as druids,
              extracting golden amber
from faraway dreams
        depositing them as seeds stowed
beneath winter's cloak-    
   lore keepers
                       of pandemic secrets

                                    -until spring
    thaws the frozen river beds
              of our poetic fingers          
    pollinating speech
                     while we spawn
into garnet roses
(blood soaked with piecing stems)

    a reawakening of voracious beauty,
the roaring Aslan,
             unmuzzled prophesier
                                   of breaking dawn
In these dark days, we will persevere until the coming of daybreak.
Flatfielder Nov 2020
A speck of time
Our presence
Earths' endurance
Before  After
Another prompt on mirakee answered,
NAL Nov 2020
I would never touch another boy after you,
even though I know you'd touch another girl
after me.
I could never speak of my skeletons with
utmost confidence to anyone as I had once
confided in you.

I'd let you continuously mortify me, persistently
neglect me, repeatedly abuse me-- whether it be physical
or emotional-- constantly suffocate me within your toxicity.
I'd let you bend my morals and rewire my mind,
just as long as you'd call me, "mine."

In all honesty- I'd let you reinvent me just to be a part of you.
Even the inventor, Vincent Price, within Edward Scissorhands
wasn't as foul as you to his creation;
at least he cared enough to not continually misuse his design;
but this isn't a movie and not everything ends in a happy ending.
{draft} 09/20/20 - the ghost of you lives in my soul; abusing me until I can't walk anymore.
Mitch Prax Nov 2020
Has anyone tried
to untangle the mess your
heart has endured?

6:33 PM
7/11/20
Subrat Rath Oct 2020
Moon has come to my room.
Through the window it has entered and soothing my hopes and dreams.
Seeing the moon the stars are also shining on the roof.
The blue sky is mesmerising my mind.
The universe is both inside and outside of me.
Mind is in love and loving everything and being.

As I look to the roof the moon smiles.
It wants me to be successful in every area of life.
Stars twinkle and give me courage and confidence to fight the battle of life.
I see on my path full of beautiful trees.
As I move in the battle field the cool breeze enchants me.

I look to the stars and moon.
The moon extends its hands and massages my brain, body and mind.
I go to the divine by the cool touch of the moon.
The divinity within me is revealed.
Beautiful and vibrant thoughts decorate my mind.

Being fortified by beautiful plans, ideas and methodologies I find the battle very easy.
Love enters through my eyes and soaks the entire body.
I see a beautiful kingdom with a serene and tranquil mind.
The diamonds sparkles and make me illumined.
I see the beauty of everything and being being always pleasant and smiling.

As I start the day the sun welcomes me.
The trees become very happy and take me on the path of peace, progress and prosperity.
I learn patience and endurance from the trees.
In spite of all odds I fulfill my hopes and dreams.
As the night comes I see the stars and moon in my room and by their sweet songs rest in peace and bliss.
The soothing poem 'The Moon' enchants me and soothes all my thoughts and help me to fulfill all my hopes and dreams.
She wore endurance as a cloak.
Tried ever so sorely and wrongly,
she committed all to the Vindicator.
In her resolute quietness, she spoke volumes.

For her ardent disparagers,
her payback was tireless hours of intercession.
As she stoically embraced undeserved tribulations,
she gained character, wisdom, and tranquility.

Who dares put out the brilliance of a star?
Her sublimity resonates evermore in the
darkest patch of the night.
Though seared with scars,
her stellar virtues are glaring,
illuminating hearts and inspiring minds.

She can’t feign ordinariness,
even if she hides behind her own shadow.
Detached from a frenzied world,
she derived her essence from heavenly fire.

Oh, had they known the fount from whence she drank,
they would not have, in malignity,
ensnared their own souls
in a bid to put out her luminous radiance.
They have murdered sleep through their ignoble gestures.

Behold the star as she abides in the firmaments!
Purified by the trials and tribulations,
she stoically endures and thrives.
The sky may be bespangled with twinkling stars,
but her brilliance stands out in luminary distinction.
Spadille Sep 2020
Let me tell you a story about a woman
A woman who stood still when the earth shook violently
A woman who didn't drown when she swam a wave filled ocean
A woman who had her feet flat on the ground even when she was at the middle of a hurricane
A woman who was given many reasons to give up but still decided to go on and hope

This woman is my mother
The mother that I dearly admire
And I forever will be fascinated by how steadfast she is
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