"announce" poems
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
I am assured by my loving mother as a child
I believe her because the beauty in everything flow’rs and flourishes
when you’re young
The world is yours to take, everyone is yours to meet, everything is yours to do;
and I believe her.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
My first friend at school proclaims,
and I believe them.
We’ve tackled ***** training and preschool, now onto the playground and phonics!
We run and run together, taking the world like we’ve
whispered once before;
and I believe them.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The middle school test scores announce,
and I believe them.
Primary school is in the past and I’m ready for responsibility!
I put on makeup to feel pretty, care about my grades more than the teachers believe and flash my smile to the boys who spit “compliments” at my feet;
and I believe them.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
but.. I don’t believe them anymore.
I’ve gained just enough confidence to smile at everyone in the halls in case they are having a bad day.
Suddenly my youthful euphoric vision is graffitied with hateful words and violence.
I run and constantly chase the innocence of the world,
being surrounded by darkness.
My self esteem has hit an all time low. Why is the world this way?
My friends and I chase what we used to believe and end up in deep holes;
and I don’t believe them anymore.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
And it doesn’t matter.
I have lost all hope of finding that beauty.
My heart is an aching mess of “I love you”’s
But all I hear is “you are meaningless”
Slowly these phrases of deep hate sear into my soul
I hear them every day and every night
You are meaningless
You are not worthy
You could not possibly be good enough
Until I wake up one dismal morning to realize that I have been defined by the ones around me.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
..and enough!
Because even my friends who say I’m worth something turn around and sneer at others like they can’t too be loved.
Because while the world screams “I hate people” I whisper
“but I don’t”.
But that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things
because we’ll find someone who loves us, right?
No.
Our words between just us mean nothing if we spin around and
spit in others’ faces.
And we know we hurt because we’ve been hurt but we don’t stop, none of us stop.
I dream of a world that screams a vulnerable
“I love you”
out into the world instead of a pulsing
“I hate you”
And a world that remembers that we are all worthy of love and not only the kind that makes you blush.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The phrase I’ve heard since I was in my mother’s gentle hold
can only mean so much when you think you’re crumpled.
Stashed away until you’re needed
always feeling so defeated
but the truth
not told enough
to our weakened souls
We are all worth more than the marigolds
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
I wonder what secret
The trees whisper to the breeze?
Do the birds hear that secret
And announce it in their song?
Does the wind hold it
And drop it in the seas?
Does the sea speak it out
And share it with the stars?
Do the heavens then resound
With the secret of the trees?
And the clouds,
Oh yes! Those clouds
Blue, black and grey
Is that why come rushing?
Across the seas to caress
With gentle rain the trees
And whisper,
"Heaven knows your heart,
There are no secrets from God."
The trees smile and sway
Fulfilled and complete in love.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
and we stay like this:
with fright,
cradling What If in our arms,
caressing Maybe's forehead.
confused.
fearful.
not knowing in which direction to go.
tick.
tock.
tick.
tock.
one more hour.
one more day.
they all pass by like that because...
we are waiting.
we are waiting
for a certain day so we can make that step,
the same when
we were waiting
for the school bell to announce the break.
we are waiting
for help,
but we never ask for it.
we are waiting
for another day to pass,
leave it,
maybe
tomorrow it will be okay.
we are waiting
for a sign,
a phone call,
it's not like I could call him to ask him out.
we are waiting
for the rain to stop,
so we won't ruin our hair
/pretty shoes
/coat
/etcetcetc.
we are waiting
for something we don't even know what it is,
because it would not be ok to do this or that.
we are waiting
because the sun did not rise yet and
it is too dark outside.
we are waiting
for ourselves.
we are waiting
without an aim.
maybe
something will happen so
we won't be bound to do things
we are afraid of and things
we are not sure of.
tick.
tock.
tick.
tock.
instead of getting the best out of every little thing that gives us the chance to discover, we stand in line for our own happiness...
you know that saying:
instead of us thinking thoughts,
the thoughts think us...
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.
At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.
The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.
As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.
I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.
7.6k
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of 4 am’s eating donuts on the bus,
Piled in big heaps to conserve warmth,
Not caring who we were laying on.
I think of lips on fire,
Sectionals that drag on and on in
The scorching sun, and staying
At attention for longer than you can bear.
I think of impossibly quick changes into uniforms,
Asking your friends to zip you up,
Band moms wiping off bibbers and shoes,
And when you’re all ready, realizing you didn’t put on your mic.
I think of falling on turf during
25 mph wind gusts, hearing the hail smash your instrument,
Not being able to feel your face,
But knowing you have to play on just the same.
I think of eating at weird times,
Breakfast at 4 am, lunch at 10 am, and supper at 10 pm,
But knowing that when you get you get a chance to eat,
The band dads have got you covered.
I think of laughing so hard on the bus
You’re crying, sobbing even, sprawled across
Your best friends, and you think you’ll never calm down
Enough to ever play your instrument again.
I think of the drum majors’ voices yelling
LEFT LEFT LEFT
Over and over again until the freshmen finally understand.
There’s always that one that never does.
I think of the moment of utter agony
Before they announce the last place in your class,
And you’re squeezing your eyes shut, praying
That at the very least, you won’t be last.
I think of that moment of utter relief
After you hear the last place in your class,
And it’s not you, and your prayers have been answered
That at the very least, you were not last.
I think of the last competition of the season,
When the seniors are bawling and it seems like
Your entire world is crashing down,
And nothing will ever be right again.
This poem could go on forever,
But finally: finally.
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of that triumphant moment right
As your show ends for the last time,
That last horns down,
And you know you’ve given it your all,
And no matter what your score is,
You feel in your heart that you have put everything
You have out there,
All the music, the drill, the blood, sweat and tears,
Out there on that football field.
And that moment, you can get no where else, but
Marching band.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
Our tears touch-
They mingle
And smear together,
Becoming one;
Tiny vials of our soul-
In the form of tears,
Each half empty,
Until they meet as one.
Our lips kiss,
Sparks fly,
To and from, joining,
Becoming one.
Our souls leap
To meet each other,
To send sparks,
To announce the union.
Tears we cry,
Kisses we give,
All are glimpses
Of our souls,
Finally meeting ever so
Slowly but surely
They mingle
And caress.
Yours and mine,
That have searched
For each other
For all time.
Let the tears flow,
Let the kisses rain,
For you have found me
And I have found you.
For our tears mingle,
Our kisses send sparks;
They speak to the heart:
You and I are Soulmates.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
For long, my house has been lying deserted
My gate has not been opened wide to let in anyone
No guest has so far come to visit me
Tired of distant wanderings
I have come here to listen to the beat of silence
Occasionally broken by the sound
Of birds' laughing wings overhead
Here I have brooding shadows for company
Hermit like I wrap myself in my solitude
Now abruptly when you announce your arrival
I feel excited and equally perplexed
What shall I serve you? I am at a loss
My hearth has not been lighted for long
And my kitchen pots remain empty
I know I should serve you
Something chilled or warm
In my menu, I have a simple surprise
But not of the edible kind
Nor delectable to your palate
But as I have known you since long
I hope it will appease you
In poetry’s platter
I shall serve my thoughts warm,
Garnered in the lonely hours
Of my solitude!
The only dish I have!
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
I am the Great Connector
I was born to unite The Horde
I am the Great Collector
Of souls felled by my Axensword
They all call me subhuman
And revile me as a beast
But they do the same to you and
For that they'll pay the price
(No Peace)
We are strong, We are brave
Though they wish to see us caged
We are wild and Untamed
And we will never live as slaves
Conquerors, We Are One!
Same blood in different skins
At last you'll see, when the victor is me
I am the Lord of our Kin
Wastelanders, Join the March
The World will burn as we sing
When the battle is won, I'll announce to everyone
"I am the Ogre King!"
I am the Great Divider
I was born to brew up storms
I am the Annihilator
My path was forged in war
My reign began in chaos
In Bloodshed, so it ends
All this Strife has nearly left me with
No Kingdom to Defend
(Descent)
We are Violent and Enraged
Now that we have been Betrayed
There are Consequences Grave
For Manipulated Faith
Revolution, it has come!
Same blood but different sins
The Empire Falls
And all Hear the Call
For A New Order to Begin
Decapitate the Tyrants
& Slaughter those who Resist
When the battle is won,
At the top of my lungs, I'll cry
"Long Live the Ogre King!"
I am the Great Destroyer
The Throne is mine to take
I will be king at any cost
Dead nations in my wake
I am the Great Conniver
With Sinister Designs
Never cared how much is Lost
So long as what is Left is Mine
(Arise)
We are rabid and insane
From lives of misery and pain
Now that the world's ablaze
We fall into our cages
These Horrors have just begun
Same gore from separate veins
What have we done,
To our daughters and sons?
A History Bloodstained!
We threw our lives into this war,
And lost more than we gave
When the killing is done,
I'll tell everyone,
"The Ogre King is slain!"
Now Our Planet is a Grave!
"The Ogre King is Slain,
Long Live the Ogre King,
I Am
The Ogre King!"
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
The steam rises
and announce us:
jasmine tea is ready
I will serve you a cup
and keep talking till dawn.
It rises equally
the urgency of the word
steaming me the reason:
words own texture
that poem will save as caresses.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
I ask you to seek beyond your current sight and to hear beyond your current sounds. Think beyond your current thoughts and be beyond your current being.
Submit I say
Submit I urge
Submit I announce
And when you submit all to me it is only then that you will Experience a deep contemplation of bliss and only then will you be able to know that I am to you as you are to me.
A new awaking
Freedom
Freedom
Freedom
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
First, I am from Cassidy
a heritage left behind in Ireland 100 years ago
when a young girl crossed the Pond
Searching for a place in the New World
I am from Sin City
where ungodly saints reign supreme
and the hot summers are barely bearable
Within its glitzy, barren landscape
I am from a Dramatic Family
where music is the main language spoken
where, if you announce you’re left “full,”
Someone will proclaim to be “Fuller!”
I am from Low-income Neighborhoods
where ****** kids have nothing to do
but play hide ‘n go seek
And have ice cube wars
I am from Music
an instrument in every room of the house
with two musicians for parents,
You can only assume on what will become of me
I am from American Traitors and Famous Scientists
Catholics and Musicians,
Military Families and Abandoned Individuals
That’s where I’m from.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
twice by god's accidental interference,
our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts,
connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness
and disturbing the supermarkets peace
what better way to judge character than to examine
a single persons shopping cart contents?
hers,
all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay,
grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on
the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic
mine,
Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard,
very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light,
and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips
with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff,
pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later,
to which, I respond,
then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight?
later that night,
after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes,
she props herself upon an elbow and
in a tone sincere and caring,
extracts from the poet promises of
natural exclusivity
from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure,
from the soul soil of our shared habitat
her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp,
softly climbing on top of her,
announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity;
I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally
rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough,
garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking,
I noting nod, good naturedly
that both the laugh and smack,
as well,
*sourced locally,
sourced lovingly,*
which then seeded
this new only love jointly authored poem,
planted in our mingling blossoming crashing
bodies
5/29/17 i
12:43pm
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
MESSENGER
Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; then with thee
To fight, and either slaying near thee die,
Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,
Requite in kind his proper banishment.
Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods
Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,
With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.
A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,
With twofold blazon riveted thereon,
For there a woman leads, with sober mien,
A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;
Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--
'This man I will restore, and he shall hold
The city and his father's palace homes.'
Such the devices of the hostile chiefs.
'Tis for thyself to choose whom thou wilt send;
But never shalt thou blame my herald-words.
To guide the rudder of the State be thine!
ETEOCLES
O heaven-demented race of Oedipus,
My race, tear-fraught, detested of the gods!
Alas, our father's curses now bear fruit.
But it beseems not to lament or weep,
Lest lamentations sadder still be born.
For him, too truly Polyneikes named,--
What his device will work we soon shall know;
Whether his braggart words, with madness fraught,
Gold-blazoned on his shield, shall lead him back.
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Guided his deeds and thoughts, this might have been;
But neither when he fled the darksome womb,
Or in his childhood, or in youth's fair prime,
Or when the hair thick gathered on his chin,
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Nor in this outrage on his Fatherland
Deem I she now beside him deigns to stand.
For Justice would in sooth belie her name,
Did she with this all-daring man consort.
In these regards confiding will I go,
Myself will meet him. Who with better right?
Brother to brother, chieftain against chief,
Foeman to foe, I'll stand. Quick, bring my spear,
My greaves, and armor, bulwark against stones.
4.8k
Blowing a wind of change
The air rises
As each season passes
The weather is full of surprises
The silent wanderer,
Slaming through the gates
Its force
Almost breaking the nights and days
The cloudy fog arises to announce the morning
Same as every other day, it seems boring
The roads ahead unseen
The air as cold as ice
And dry as desert sand
And we can't see the stars
The weather,
Unpredictable as they come.
Night and day yet unbroken
Standing tall in the face of changes
We're beyond defeat.
©2018 Busola S. kolade
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Blowing silence
like a bugle
to announce his dismay
he got set
to make a statement
without speaking for a day
but his mother
just assuming
he had nothing much to say
sent her silent
revolutionary
son outside to play;
outmaneuvered
in the kitchen
by his mother's disregard
for campaigns
of wild muteness,
the rebellion fell apart
to the sound
of scuffing shoes
and the grumble in his heart
'cause silent protest
tends to lose
when no-one's listening very hard..
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
What does it take
To have a joyful cheer?
What is it at stake
To smile; that's unclear.
When our gaze meets,
And a smile, it is spread,
And I announce myself a greet,
It is unreturned instead.
For this reason, I am unsold,
I need your reasons why.
A smile unreturned is cold.
Don't say I didn't try.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
My skin has been itching for three months
I’m not sure why this is addicting
I’ve crashed a car in my head 3 times today
My mental awareness consistently letting go of the wheel
The Anterior teeth of my mouth have started to yellow in disapproval
I’m not sure why this is satisfying
I’ve been taking toxic psychotropics in light doses more than twice a day
It’s warmth is comforting as the jittering and hyperactivity become null
Bags have formed under my eyes
If you were to open them, their roasted smell would overpower you with stimulation
Constantly on my toes for risk of Insomnia and Narcolepsy
I’m not sure why this is outstanding
Adrenaline is being forcefully factored into my body
If this is the bullet, I’m biting it after an appliance pulls the trigger
As the high passes, it ripples through my mind
An otherwise calm sea, tidal waves pound the shores of my subconsciousness
Vacuum sealed can are filled with awareness
Sleep has become a rare odyssey
Warm comforters are replaced with long trachea trips of boiling beans
I’m not sure why this is alarming
Double trips become tripled and troubling to my mother
Arguments over the hours I shall harvest from the night are increasingly frequent
Slow to roll out of bed in the morning
I don’t hit my carpet, I splash into sugared preparedness
In my backpack hides a cup full of GI Joes
I’m not sure why this is troubling
If anything, I’m drinking a medicine that prevents death by 10-15% for 13 years
The New England Journal of Medicine was happy to acknowledge my existence
Till they announce anything different, you’ll find me taking a mud bath
I’m not sure why this is disgusting
Tell me everything that’s wrong with it
Because from where I’m standing
There is nothing wrong with
Coffee
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
When the struggles and grudges of life weakens me down to my bones and marrows,
And l have none to strengthen me;
The grace of praise l embrace will quicken and be my strength.
When the devil fires an arrow of sorrow towards me,
ln order to narrow my passion for the vision of my mission in life;
The grace of praise l embrace will be my shield.
When the challenges and pains of life groomed in fears,
Strains my heart to rain down tears;
And l have none to comfort me;
The grace of praise l embrace will be my comfort.
When life seems so tough and my challenges becomes too hot to bear,
And l have none to bear my burdens with me;
The grace of praise l embrace will be my refuge.
When my enemies channels their weapons of destruction and distraction towards me,
ln order for me to leave my dreams, visions and life ambitions unpushed,
The grace of praise l embrace will shield me and inspire me never to retire until l am discovered.
When l am frustrated, distressed and stressed in the battles of life,
And l have none to console or encourage me to move ahead;
The grace of praise l embrace will be my fortress and my solace.
When my feet becomes feeble in the faculty of life,
And l have none to uphold me to be strong;
The grace of praise l embrace will be my strength and shelter.
When temptation, trials and tribulation engulfs me like a mother hen engulfs her chicks,
And l have none to unveil me;
The grace of praise l embrace will unveil me and announce me to my world.
When l am battered, shattered and scattered in the battles of life,
And l have none to come to my rescue;
The grace of praise l embrace will gather me up and put me together.
When l kneel before the creator and maker of heaven and earth in prayer,
And l know not how to present my matters before him;
The grace of praise l embrace will speak on my behalf.
When l am knocked down on my feet by the struggles and battles of this life,
And l have none to raise me up;
The grace of praise l embrace will raise me up.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
I want someone I can scream abuse at
I want someone I can yell at
I want to angrily announce all my fears and flaws
I want to shout all the reasons that I'm broken
And they can shout right back
Because nobody has ever let me do that
And then when all is said and done
I want them to cry with with me
I want them to hold me
I want them to tell me we can take this together
I want someone who knows that anger isn't hate
I want someone I can feel every emotion with
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
In Manolo Blahniks,
While her chair wears her jacket
And her fingernails play Orpheus
On a cigarette
packet,
A cold goddess in stone
And a flounce of french lace,
Gravelled footsteps
don't lift
Her resting-bitch-face.
So I announce
my arrival
With an unconfident cough,
Her eyes still
on the sunset,
She tells me to...
****
off.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 3:41 AM UTC
Heaven
. . . Have Mercy . . .
Rest, rest, rest, for ye be none,
pitiful Fallen One.
Quivering bows flow over grave strings
bassoons and basset horns ring
pounding timpani’s announce:
Master of the Holy Choir
- - Renounced - -
Vain, fluttering heart
sublimely denounced, scorned;
fouled, ousted:
Horned.
Wailing strings, bassoons,
basset horns, thundering kettle drums
lift angelic voices to glorious requiem.
Pleas for Eternal Light’s remain
in wings refrain.
Heavenly Chorus' cradle to sustain,
mercy to soften
disdain.
The Holy Oracle contests --
to no avail.
Siblings’ choir protests.
Beauty beyond measure,
Angel of pure, Divine tessitura,
Absolution for Thee?
Foretellers of dark illusion
open Holy Scriptures to reveal
the drone of Eternal Damnation:
trumpets of ill
drag Thee to Hell.
Deep, ephemeral rhythms
exalt dancing strings,
seal destinies -- Kiss The Almighty King.
Glory be unto His Majestic Reign,
Will Supreme,
Tremendous,
Powerful, Holy Being.
Scribes record,
recite this dreadful day,
condemn Thee: Fallen One.
trumpets lament, strings mock
this unholy, forbidden way.
Bows flutter -- a memoir
of redemption.
Cries of confusion
dissipate
into muffled choirs,
murmurings
of deliverance.
Delicate chants
beg for forgiveness;
a Soul’s salvation, fusion.
To no avail!
Turbulent strings strike the Holy Duel
in wrath, writhing hatred,
majestic wings tumble --
twist to wrenched ******
Death devours, Birth becomes
the Fallen One.
Angelic dissolution --
distraught, agonized Ethereal,
Eternally beautify
these ghostly, trembling
winds, strings, harpsichord, drums.
Voices of brotherhood remembered,
cushion Angel’s earthly descent.
Breathe into infantile genius
heavenly symphonies
to sweeten a life
trapped, scorned,
condemned,
mourned
Love of God: Amadé
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Inception Transcribed (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
==Inception Transcribed ==
by
SassyJ
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Copy the link below to your browser)
Inception and intersection of human life are diverse. We are ushered as a blank canvas to the shores of life. Socialised with values, beliefs and cultures. Our acclimatised acculturation. Submerged in the swampy lowlands each sunk and wandering through and through.
This morning I woke and left my house...... looked up to the horizons of nature. And there it was.... a revolving camera smiling at each stride I take... following me and taunting me. Unreserved in institutions, submerged in the ever decaying social structures.
Why do we do what we do everyday?
Is it part of the human processes and functions?
To exist and be absolutely absent but present. I fret, then I smile. Trying to join the puzzles in the mazes. Ever questioning if I am here to learn or to be polluted by bureaucracy.
Lets call for an assembly, announce that the town is dead. Yet, its people are gasping, breathing to fill their lives with a new paradigm. Look at me all cyanosed , the blueness of the dying veins... sunk in the redistribution and social panic. Re-engaged in the demoralised democracy. Look at me asking....
What is the meaning of life?
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
in ashes hidden, smoulders god of love
from matted dancer's focus conflagration purely come
continues still perhaps in empty homage
of a sa ta na ma
personage of ((Shiva))
white bones pierce the sky
in upward curtain-seethes of heat
beyond imagined burning hells...
the triad ventures into zero-zones of anti-life,
sands of absolute defeat.
shadow trust imparts
a silent teacher's mantras;
soothing psychic words,
"Bala" and "Adi-Bala"
carry over dunes of morbid thirst--
the gape of ancient serpent-maws
choking dust of frightened, elephantine skeletons
fissured by immobile sun--
their inner sound become cool water of a summer stream
in timeless desert, traverses strain of royal line:
god-fated tutelage of seedling savior,
lightning skill with bow and virtue sinew
shining arms horizon's arid form:
despite begrudging honor kings expect
when offspring given after years
in hard-earned sacrificial grace:
yet still obeisance ends in facing demonaic rage
to which is pitted youth to slay--
despite allay by symbol feminine,
as if to question her abode would conjure her
in dire storm and quake announce gigantic step and hairy gulf--
with arrow sprays destroy Thataka's trident, curdling throat
the slitting of, rejoicing pantheon proclaims heroic,
forever railing under epic breath of tacit page theodical:
"we gave you progeny, now grant us our theocracy;
before your son our asthras lay their weaponry"
.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
Never feel alone, my friend -
dormancy is also transient,
same as your winter depression...
Only yesterday I heard a flock of geese
overhead in the twilight
announce their return
while a heedless scampering squirrel
repeatedly circuited the trunk of an oak.
The Pervasion is always complete;
embrace it in your awareness
as the Sun's virility will soon
embrace the fields and countryside.
Regrouping the sacred elements
through delicate processes,
rugged mating rituals,
and rebirth -
Forming a symmetry
of vital love incarnate
dispelling all loneliness.
-fr
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC