"castled" poems
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed
His great sow:
Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid
In the same way
He kept the sow--impounded from public stare,
Prize ribbon and pig show.
But one dusk our questions commended us to a tour
Through his lantern-lit
Maze of barns to the lintel of the sunk sty door
To gape at it:
This was no rose-and-larkspurred china suckling
With a penny slot
For thrift children, nor dolt pig ripe for heckling,
About to be
Glorified for prime flesh and golden crackling
In a parsley halo;
Nor even one of the common barnyard sows,
Mire-smirched, blowzy,
Maunching thistle and knotweed on her snout-
cruise--
Bloat tun of milk
On the move, hedged by a litter of feat-foot ninnies
Shrilling her hulk
To halt for a swig at the pink teats. No. This vast
Brobdingnag bulk
Of a sow lounged belly-bedded on that black
compost,
Fat-rutted eyes
Dream-filmed. What a vision of ancient hoghood
must
Thus wholly engross
The great grandam!--our marvel blazoned a knight,
Helmed, in cuirass,
Unhorsed and shredded in the grove of combat
By a grisly-bristled
Boar, fabulous enough to straddle that sow's heat.
But our farmer whistled,
Then, with a jocular fist thwacked the barrel nape,
And the green-copse-castled
Pig hove, letting legend like dried mud drop,
Slowly, grunt
On grunt, up in the flickering light to shape
A monument
Prodigious in gluttonies as that hog whose want
Made lean Lent
Of kitchen slops and, stomaching no constraint,
Proceeded to swill
The seven troughed seas and every earthquaking
continent.
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She caught on to algebraic notation, as if,
she'd been born in the 64 square matrix,
whose precise logic spoke her mother tongue
They discussed, at length, the fianchetto formation ...
... how the defensive fortress of the castled King
was akin to the monarch's personal Masada
... how the power of the doubled Rooks and Queen
in the latent lance of Alekhine's Engine
gored the other position in thermodynamic dissipation
When he pointed out the cloaked irony of
Queen being strongest, but King paramount,
she shrugged, as if it were to be expected
Shaking hands, agreeing to the draw,
she smiled, joy precipitating from her face,
knowing there could be a world without losers
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Checkered choices rise some nights,
play chess with all my frightful failings.
Queen's Pawn to Rook 5.
Nail my footsteps
to the concrete season.
I'm losing pieces it seems.
I'm a sardonic grinner
and under these eyebrows, it's nuclear winter.
Wending my way through the last
three years, I find no release valve.
The pressure will build and place
its long arm along my shoulder,
pull me far from my friends.
One.
Two.
One.
Two.
Step
by step
by hammer blow step
a story is crafted, installed with a lock
in a circular book.
Queen's Pawn to Ryman Street
1:45 a.m.
simmering skin over ice armored innards,
the freezing rain sends up my curses
like steam
clouding off of my shoulders
and into the skyline.
I've castled my way out of checkmate questions.
Not my move to make,
so I won't life a finger.
Queen's Pawn to front doorstep,
then straight on to bed.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
© 2011 (Jim Sularz)
Deep in a Black Forest,
lost along a mystic stream.
Where the winds still whisper,
a thousand untold dreams.
Enchanted shadows,
kicking frosted leaves.
Sleep at night’s darkness,
wake upon a moonlit breeze.
Castled ruins in disbelief,
sap blistered lips unseen.
Singing Austrian pines in chorus,
beneath an idyllic scene.
Dancing high betwixt the hills,
hide an’ seek, and make-believe.
Pine cones popping tear-dropped treasures,
wave a kiss goodbye, “Auf Wiedersehen!”
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with rockets
Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.
The third bell is saffron and slow,
And I behold a long sunset over the sea
With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.
The fourth bell is color of bronze,
I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:
Muffled crackings run in the ice,
Trees creak, birds fly.
The fifth bell is cold clear azure,
Delicately tinged with green:
One golden star hangs melting in it,
And towards this, sleepily, I go.
The sixth bell is as if a pebble
Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .
Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.
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A massive sea beast came to die.
It lumbered up and lopped down
on the docks of a grey castled city.
It’s arc heaved as it breathed
the damp sea vapors.
A final groan echoed from
the core of its heaped flesh.
One bulbous eye peered dead
deep into the wet night sky.
The gulls found it first.
Then the fishermen,
while making morning rounds.
Then the young,
then the curious,
even the lords came
to mend the unsevered.
The beast lay still.
The gulls were scattered by
the fishermen’s discipline.
The young found new spectacle around them.
The curious began to plan.
Some saw the meat.
Some saw their signs.
Others wanted it destroyed,
burnt immediately.
“Let’s be done with it!”
they said.
The lords quoted and pointed,
like they do.
The beast did not move.
A merchant arrived.
He owned the docks.
He had dominion.
“It is mine!”
he declared
“Go home!”
Embarrassed, the lords cowered and mumbled.
The curious shouted and bared their teeth.
The fishermen took sides,
the young stayed quiet,
and the gulls watched
the flames from afar.
A rain came.
The merchant,
the lords,
the curious,
the fishermen,
the young,
and even the gulls
all sprinted for shelter.
But the beast . . .
Rain became storm.
The horizon was hazed
by the mighty torrent.
But the beast . . .
Storm became tempest.
The sea swelled and smashed
against the city’s north wall.
But the beast . . .
Tempest became wrath.
Scythes of lightning set ablaze
the flags atop the tallest towers.
But the beast . . .
And wrath became the toothed face of a new god.
But still the beast . . .
remained where it was.
Nothing was said, nothing was heard
as the rain beat down on the oily carcass,
washing it clean.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
the ever briggy snapperjab,
once as trallhup as spacescrapers,
had his woo jotty happenstance
jejuned and nooned
and i soon saw
that i too was too much tooned
in the known visible wavelurf
where roving fate is ghosted
by inexhorrorbull ringly meedecree
of blingee choo choo Hist-o-Then
ever since,
my crave
has castled me down
into whitened gray limb petrify
where diggy beclouded sendersave replaces
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
~
For this of castled velvet throne
A queen does weep a single tear
Bleak shadows of this night have grown
To cast upon her heart this fear
Reflection polished marble floor
Her silhouette of humbled reach
Now shutters via nightmare’s pour
Alone of bridges fought to breach
Beyond the window valleys sleep
Soft candle flame in slumbered night
Flickering her pain felt deep
Burning through in cautioned light
An empty throne aside her heart
Its warmth now chilled of worried feel
That day her love he did depart
Read messages to long conceal
Her single kiss of cherished due
A farewell bid, pled safe return
Lost amidst this sorrowed view
And loneliness again did burn
As if the dawn had been his shield
In misty haze on moor’s harsh breath
Of forest frame it had concealed
A moment quick of arrow’s death
She takes this single tear she’s cried
Into a glass of liquid clear
This droplet of her love applied
Her broken heart to wish him near
And brings this potion to her lips
Such bitter taste slow going down
A whispered hope in swallowed sips
To then remove her saddened crown
Upon his throne of gold now rests
She breathes one final moment pure
Her eyes now close of wishful quest
To be with her sweet king once more
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
There seems to be tendencies that my ligaments won’t forget. The old one where the same feelings are forced upon you by your body, with you having no control of where your mind decides to land.It all comes back to the same, the answer is in your hands.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 9:54 AM UTC
She was
forever
Her lips
Bled lipstick
Dark hair
Stormed
Hearts wine
throbbed
Castled beauty
etheral
Ghostly
girl
Woolen
scarf
Returned
all love
Smoky
*****
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 12:21 AM UTC
These pieces move
through a morning ether
of pale string dawn:
knight of coffee,
bishop of grass,
rooks of blonde
bones sleeping
in the slope-thicket.
My heart eats a shock
after knitting careful
plans for weeks now.
The metro train
rattles and shines.
The sun hides
in castled cloud.
Everything feels
bigger than it is.
They ask so much
from me, I could
never give that much.
Still, the day is long.
The complacent heart
will learn and adjust.
I still cherish you
with all my psychology.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 10:23 AM UTC
this castle built has walled the inner child
as whispers gasp to breach, but pierce no steel
for father brained that lungs are voices wild
that mouthfuls aren't a streaming bile to wheel
about this throne is ringed a wavy moat
no sand to crown, just swimming bait to dwell
to catch the Venus tongue for none can boat
as sails are none to search the misty shell
now cunning are the roses; leaving trails,
of red tip petals pruned to meet mine eye
and she from out the haze shall tap her nails
then in the window shield, and out my shy
tho' thickened armor mazes; brain and chest
the fairest shall then solve and twine a nest
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
It is hard
to tell you what
i feel about you
without
hurting you
it is so
h a r d
but this
day i am going to tell
woman we loved
we have good children
but living with now is hard.
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 7:05 PM UTC
His Lordship forgot, siren’s slave-ship become, flighting.
Delusion, until fog horn let out it’s truthful blast. Lightning.
Caused rocky shores to be shown, even absent lighting.
Confusion lifted, anchors tossed, perhaps not all’s lost.
Hull pierced, as if cannon foddered, deck arrested, splintered, shuddered.
Sharper sharper, mast the sharpest, shard upwards, sail white masted.
Surrendered, will rendered, I lay, with strength hindered, fasted.
Waking, after night spent with foamed water taking.
Waiting, ocean water like a ballast, weighting.
Humility, as fatal shores show in after storm tranquility.
Oh, amazing grace, how sweet the sound!
For its’ warning blast, the siren’s call was drowned.
Tide lowered, ship on reef rock towered,
Mercy’s trophy, castled once, now bowered.
Humility, raised like the sun from blue depths, lucidity.
Such pleasant places walled ship from sin,
Reef boundaries, like a garden, hedged in.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:54 AM UTC
Troubadors sing their hearts out
Surround me evermore.
Spirits caught in castled ruins.
Frangipani wait to hark.
Poppy dogs with sheepish eyes
lost in the dark.
Happy as Larry in Lincolnshire fayres.
Dragons Tooth flowering late.
Ordinariness dressed in leitmotifs,
starts to fade
Feb 26, 2022
Feb 26, 2022 at 2:39 AM UTC
Beyond a dark a dreary world
Outside of right and wrong
There lives a girl with melting smiles
And a heart of windswept song.
Nestled in that shadowed past
Burned within my mind
I guard her castled memory
And lose my place in time.
We shared the winter's silver sky
And dreamed of warmer days
To watch each other endlessly
When friend was just a phrase.
Recalling all those simple ways
With all our love intact
Somehow I know it does me harm
To keep on looking back.
But the pain is never ending
And I know it can't be long
'Til I share those melting smiles
And a heart of windswept song.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
reaching out for your hand in mine was an
omen for the heart cursed battered atorn
yesteryears couldn't stay for long yet you
promise of a tomorrow with those sick
empty words that my ears fell for and you
**** the kingdom of my castled caged soul
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
Something.
The qualling moldwarp seeps.
Crude and distinguished.
Outcasted.
For and lived full.
Of rot in the crimson wave.
Veined
And insecure.
No high or lowering end.
No result in castled eyes.
Or mothered neutrons of the sick.
Sick.
So.
So.
Sick.
Too sick to rest.
Been gone and too many killed by thought.
By the drowning of the subliminal courage.
By the spinal departure in the sands.
And without welcoming of the azure.
Footprinted only to be pulled into red.
And entombed into onyx.
Never to receive the final wail of grief.
Garrett Johnson.
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC