"coursed" poems
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up
We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them
Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them
Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them
Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them
We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season
A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength
We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans
We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares
We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil
As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat
And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions
The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”
I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life
And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog
David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs
Well done Valiant Bulldog
God bless and Godspeed
Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road
5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
i.
today,
i woke up
with my head
swamped with thoughts of you.
a smile started at the corner of my lips
that eventually coursed through my face
like how the first light of the day spreads at sunrise,
or how i feel my body respond
to the first sip of coffee in the morning.
i look at the space beside me that is intended for you,
a space that i have saved just for you.
pillows substitute your presence.
not as warm, but they will do.
for now.
ii.
what gets me through the day,
no matter how difficult it is,
is the idea that there is you
(to look forward to)
at the end of it.
that later that day,
i will be seeing you again;
but i will have to wait for a while.
which i find very difficult to do
because patience was never my virtue.
iii.
if there is one word that lost its appeal to me,
it would definitely be the word forever.
how can someone of ephemeral existence
promise something as pretentious as forever?
i would not tell you that
i will forever love you;
what i would tell you instead is that
i will always love you.
always, meaning all the time.
always, meaning every time.
always, you and i.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
After his eyes explored her as his hands did the same. Working them down from her hips, his fingers explore between her legs; skin smoother than the silk she wore. Sensations coursed through his body, transferring to her flesh. The more he explored her, the more she opened up to him. His hunger and eagerness grew and
she was writhing in pleasure, and her lips started to water, soaking his fingers. He smirked.
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 3:53 PM UTC
They set off from white rocks,
red geraniums, blue tile,
and let the green sea
lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves.
The stony islands that were home
were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic
but they hunted the big fish,
the giant whales with human eyes
who rolled and sang and swam
in oceans a continent away.
They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel
Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta -
Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain,
neither of the old country nor the new:
Halfway there and halfway gone -
secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors.
They sailed into unknown waters,
south around tropical shores
where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks
and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage
rose in clouds around their heads.
Then north, and north, north again
to colder waters
where sea lions barked and lunged
at the strange massive wooden beast
that coursed the waters,
strung with brown bodies swaying
on the lines and cursing the sails.
North still they swept
casting contemptuous eyes on
the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles
of the Sea of Cortez.
Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca,
the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers,
they chased their smooth grey prey,
riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island,
herding the leviathans onto their spears,
adventurers with an audience of only
gulls and sky and seal.
Until they sailed too close one day
to a rock-strewn shoreline
and saw the golden hills.
Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home
with orange poppy jewels at their feet,
missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary.
The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil
rich and brown and loamy
waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots
peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa,
fertile and heavy with sweet promise.
And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried
but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled.
The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home,
called and wept
and waited in vain for the sailors
- beached and grounded -
cutting not waves but earth,
tracking seasons not whales,
seduced by dirt.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
Every year we sit around the table filled with tasty traditions
Every year we ask the same question
"What are you thankful for?"
I'm thankful for the searing pain that has coursed through my veins
like a fire that couldn't be stopped
because I'd never be this strong without it
I'm thankful for the hot tears that have run down my cheeks
like the warm spring streams running through parks
because I wouldn't know what grief was like with out it
I'm thankful for the people who caught me when I was falling so fast that I couldn't cry out for help
For the people who held me up when I couldn't stand on my own two feet for more than a mere few seconds
because without them I wouldn't know what true friendship was
I'm thankful for the people who made me laugh
Who made me forget there was ever pain
because without them I would have never seen the light in life
I'm thankful for the people who cared for me when I couldn't care for myself
Who through the years have held my hand when times were scary
Who wiped tears away when life hurt
And helped me through the growing pains of life
Because with out them I wouldn't know who I am today
I'm thankful for the opportunities
The opportunity to explore the world
The opportunity to find the most knowledge I can fit into my head
Without these I wouldn't know how blessed I truly am.
I am thankful for the happiness that I have in my life
the smiles and the sunshine that is found in everyday
without these I wouldn't know what was joy
I am thankful for the scars that are invisible and visible
the visible ones hold stories and power and remind me that I can conquer anything
the invisible ones hold logic yet understanding reminding me to proceed with caution
With out these I would not understand healing
I am thankful for the human kindness I have received
The hugs of healing
The words of encouragement and wisdom
The shoulder squeezes of reassurance
The shared strength and perseverance
Without these I would not know hope
I am thankful for the patience of others
The times others held me close when nothing was outwardly wrong
The times when I didn't live up to my word yet they still trusted me
With out this I wouldn't have faith in myself
So as you sit around your thanksgiving feast
And you ask each one what they are thankful for
remember it's not about the food
It's not about the pilgrims and the Native Americans
It's remembering to say thank you to all the people in your life that matter.
So Thank you for being there
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
The wind roared
Whipping through the newly leaved trees
The rain drops plummeted down from the clouds
Soaking everything in their path
Including a little girl
Who loved to dance in the rain
Lightning struck a tree not too far from her
Thunder shaking the earth
She laughed as the static and sounds waves coursed through her veins
The storms reminded her of her parents
Violent and loud during their fights
And then clean and peaceful after they made up
They also reminded her of herself
Raw power barely contained inside her little form
The ability to amaze and intimidate all at once
The storm was a glorious force of nature
And she was blessed enough to be one too
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
Some things we loose, while others we gain.
When we take chances and put ourselves and hearts on the line
any day is exceptional.
No day is ordinary,
for an ordinary day is when I met you.
An "ordinary" day changed my life.
I met you in my favourite season,
I was wearing my favourite touque.
You were foreign to me...
exceptional, mysterious and cute.
The blood stains on your canvas pants like a piece of art.
The body of a doe in your bare hands, disturbing yet beautiful.
The wildness that coursed through your veins,
the life in your eyes...
I always knew I'd find the man of dreams
in the forest surrounded by trees.
Although it was in a parking lot beside the naked hardwood
fate brought me to you.
Late night procrastination brought me to you.
Under ordinary circumstances
came extraordinary outcomes.
We loose what is less to gain what is more
fate brought me to you
an ordinary day became extraordinary
and grew forever more... <3
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
From the time the heart first knew how to feel, and the eyes distinguished rain from tears, few have hidden behind the walls within me. Whether they found it a safe place or a jail cell - well, I guess we'll leave that to the imagination. No matter if it was a cell or heaven, the space within always felt alive. Even at my deadest times, the heat within coursed like it knew something more valuable was in store.
Somehow, some way, a wanderer found a pathway in. Had he known better, perhaps he would not have been in the hands of the girl with wisps of flame at her angered fingertips. The burns don't sustain, but the more that's lost, the more it dissolves all other slivers of hope left to grasp.
Fear is the real culprit, you must see. The fear I must face by harboring a false love; a fear of committing my own sins; of breaking my own promises.
I've never understood a "true understanding." Anger can be cooled by the calm, as does the rainbow after the storm. With the storm blown over, his eyes shone bright and revealed his intentions clearly - you can still love with a straight face and a frigid heart.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
da da dun da dun da dun
dun da dun da dun
da da dun da dun da dun
dun da dun da dun
there's a flash-- of lightning
lighting up the clouds
then in silence-- hiding
before the thunder sounds
and the sky falls to rain
and the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's a rock-- sits rugged
dying in the shine
where before-- it bled
with colors inline
they coursed-- through veins
when it was alive
yeah the sky falls to rain
yeah the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's silver-- set skies
to horizons of land
reflected-- in your eyes
shadows on wet sand
before the beach dies
by the flames that 'r fanned
yeah the sky falls to rain
and the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's a portrait-- 't burns
smoldering to scatter
the atoms-- of remains
to times that matter
the sparks-- to our dreams
igniting 'ey shatter
yeah the sky falls to rain
ooh the earthquakes again
and the earth quakes again..
Sam@070118
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 6:37 PM UTC
In a hammock
On the eve of final exams
There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing
the distances of Starbucks and the library,
an unusual sight at eleven at night
There is peace
In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma-
running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag
Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious
There is heat condensed around the height of brains
Struggling to realize dreams that require
Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work
The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves
There is energy in the fractal jungle above
The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering
I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt.
The light pollution overpowers his body but
he reminds me that there is more in the astral world
Ibis scour the ground
Some would read the tea leaves
that bravest of birds has crossed my path
And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life
There is closure to my left
Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell
Only they know what goes on inside,
and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
Earlier today,
I laid outside atop the snow,
A feat that I haven't tried
Since life's true colors showed.
The frost numbed my body,
I'm sure red flushed into my cheeks;
I stared speculatively at the sky,
My eyes searched and seeked.
I wanted to understand the beauty,
That nature offers so readily, the solace,
That it blankets us in even on cold days;
I wanted to understand beauty that is flawless.
My tired eyes embraced small, soaring figures
That coursed through the air with grace;
Content to go their own paths,
Not engaged in a petty race.
The figures were falcons,
That spiraled and sailed on wind above me,
Probably heading south,
For warmth to set them free.
But in that moment I compared them
To man-produced ashes;
Gray soot that courses through the air
Dashes, in varying directions,
As fire burns.
In that moment, the birds drifted through the air
So aimlessly, like the ashes do,
Landing faraway,
Wherever they flew.
Nature itself could be ashes,
If people continue on this path;
This destruction ought to incur
Some sort-of wrath.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
A sleepy boy always awake, always had his eyes open so wide. Only another few minutes he kept telling himself, in a few moments he would sleep. In a few moments he may finally rest.
An optimistic boy, still awake and calling out each and every detail. Only another few hours he kept telling himself, I'll make it till then. A few more hours and I'll drift off.
An ambitious man now, awake only from the ******* that coursed through his body. Only another few months he kept telling himself, a few more months and he could finally take a seat and maybe greet some of his dreams.
An unfulfilled man, awake and completely overwhelmed by life and it's instantaneous moments. He no longer tells himself a thing. In a few years he knows he'll be gone.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
I don’t know how to tell you
that you make me fall in love
with being alive
so instead I’ll tell you
that since I met you I’ve found
beauty in a rainstorm
and sometimes at night
when I feel so close to giving up
because it would be easier than
missing you
I hold my breath and listen
as rain knocks on my bedroom window
and I’m reminded that the first time
you touched me
lightning coursed through my veins
and brought me back to life
like a kiss in a fairytale
you woke me up when I didn’t know
I was sleeping
I don’t know how to tell you
that before you
I traveled three frames
behind everyone
as the world sped by
and words fell from lovers mouths
after they had already walked away
I struggled to catch up
with jumbled words
that tumbled through my trembling lips
but I was always too late
so I became mute to save myself
the heartache
and when you came along
I had forgotten how to speak
so I stayed silent
instead of admitting how much
you meant to me
I know that if I were lucky enough
to be heard by you again
I would tell you that I want you
in the most mundane ways
like Sunday mornings with iced coffee
and menthol kisses
—like listening to you sing in the shower
and watching your eyes light up as you laugh
I want summer evenings at the beach
bowling dates and early morning hikes—
I’ve never known how to tell you
that I will always take you for who you are
and what you’ve done
so I tried to show you through
good morning texts
and words of affirmation
but I need to stop assuming
you know what I mean
when I speak in metaphors
so I hope someday my words find you
and you’ll understand that for me
you were never a phase
and I can only dream
that you can still see the rainstorm
you unleashed inside of me
all those months ago
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 10:01 AM UTC
*First light in the Hudson Valley
Arbor Day of April, 1970.*
Adrenaline coursed through our young
bodies, our hearts on fire with purpose.
As we rode our bikes, walked, or jogged miles
to our rural high school, red-winged blackbirds
called out from the misty swamps.
Beautiful but invading, acres of purple loosestrife
were rapidly taking over their wetland habitats.
Harbingers of the forests, blue jays issued
warning cries from deep in the woods,
where blights were killing our trees
with increasing frequency.
Three of us rode together, cycling in relative
silence, until we came to a meadow
selected for our early breakfast picnic.
We feasted on special fruits and cheeses,
hungrily stuffing in rare treats.
One friend began to send iridescent
soap bubbles into the chilly air.
Up they rose, up over the soft, puffy cloud
of her reddish curls, and into the dawning sun.
One bubble landed, unbroken, in the cold, dewy grass.
We stared at it, somehow understanding that here
was a delicate metaphor for our own fragile planet.
Approaching our school now, we breathed deeply the fragrance
of apple blossoms from commercial orchards all around us.
The spraying of pesticides had yet to be banned.
We were sleepy in our classes that morning;
most of our teachers understanding that we stood
now for something worthwhile, that we believed in,
and they smiled with kindness, some even with approval.
Our principal agreed to an awareness-raising slide show
designed for our fellow students, teachers and parents.
An intelligent man, he was admirably tolerant of the wave
of changes that our generation brought with us.
Smoke stacks, polluted water, and dying wildlife
flashed onto a screen in the darkened auditorium,
accompanied by the vivid symphonic power of
Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring'- a score so revolutionary
that a riot broke out at its premier, in May of 1913.
We had no idea then how much worse things would become.
All these years later, we each do our part, blessing
the efforts of our children and their children,
hoping fervently that we are not too late.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
An opaque kiss, crept over his spirit,
Drifted with petal-like grace, spilled warm
In forget-me-not pastels;
He enters The Dream'......
The soft breath of night
Dusts lash-bound eyes with dream;
There,
Night mists wander a lace like solitude,
Lost in euphoric infinity,
Where his blue ripples speak waterfalls
Pooling to silence...
The moon tossed down a shimmering cloth,
Her Midas light, turning his limbs to gold;
A name, echoed softly, like river minutes,
A winding breath, a tingled song of awakening,
Of lullaby in whispers and nuance,
Ghost-kissing the curve of an aching thigh...
Crave induced,
The magic in her hip-sway, crossed
The arch of his dreams;
Where she flowed half-held by darkness;
A garnet flame flickering the
Tussled locks of Autumn stained hair,
Trailing her skin, like eager limbs parting
A dream horizon's shore...
Her impish August skin,
Bathed him in words that woke his willing flesh,
Tracing the haunted subtlety of desire;
Here, amongst the echoes of the pulsing night,
Heart to heart, breath to breath,
Her fingers tenderly caressed delicate dreams on the silken hardness
Of his shadow serenade...
Passion coursed his blood, an esoteric tune
Suckled the sweet sutra;
Her taste,
Burning the star of his mouth,
Tasting the breath of moan,
A song,
Hovering like a silver bauble, drifting in past breaths,
Sinking into chaotic bliss, deepening the eclipse of seductive fusion...
His face, dark, breathed hot upon her psyche,
A captive heart beating against his palm;
"Be Mine" unfolds,
While "Yours" is spread wide, refractive on skin,
A brand, where fingers trace hips, slowly swallowing hidden breath;
His tongue slide, afire with the heat of a thousand suns, and
Rose tinted limbs scream, with eyes closed,
And he watches as she burns.......
Love came quietly as a whispered dream.........
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC
You were the bowl of oranges.
Lilac skin and a blue heart
On your sleeve.
The lights and colours that erupt
In stars behind closed eyes:
I saw you even when I drank myself blind.
You were the solution of words
Once all the chemicals lost their kick.
The Truth was out there,
We stayed inside sheltered routines
Which blacked out the skies,
Cast a ceiling on our dreams.
You were the Earthly phenomena
That kept me from drifting to the stars.
The coastline in my breath,
On my tongue - to everyone.
You were the name my friends
Were tired of hearing;
The name I cannot forget.
You were red wine;
On my lips and on your dress.
You were... Late-night farewells,
You were the sun salutation,
The birth of a nation
That could blossom into colour in my mind.
You were beautiful in the cloud forests,
Astral depths: we never had to speak.
What age did we reach
Before that daydream started to ache?
You were the faded fantasy
That I held like sand in my hands.
When we kissed I would tremble,
I would lose a little more of you.
You were sad singers.
Old souls that tread the line of their sanity
In fine-point precision;
You were the art that coursed my veins
When surrounded by grey food, grey rooms, grey walls.
You were the messenger with an olive leaf, a blue feather;
A signpost for dry land. You were the panic button
That would take me to the safe place in my mind.
You were the way I said ‘I love you’
In a voice that was finally mine.
You were my lighthouse in the distance
And all the words I cannot find.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
She lost her heart inside his soul..in the words his mind composed...inside the myriad memories of this emerald eyes...that shone with a light she had never know...a longing she thought was hers alone...
She loved him more than life itself..
But feared that even the shadow of her
scared, wounded heart would cast
an evil that could not be dispelled.
The proof of her love was in her eyes..she loved him each moment...knowing well that even the sight of him killed her a thousand times over...
She wanted the best for him...even if it meant being without her.
His future, his dreams meant more to her than that ache deep down to see him behold her with a longing she saw in his eyes alone....none ever looked at her like that...ever
Lust was all she got....disgust if at all.
He made her feel beautiful, feel complete..seem ageless...almost magically as if his love alone could transform her demons into ashes....
He was all she ever wanted..hoped for..he was the answer to her aching heart!
She loved him like she would die every day just to be held in his transcendental embrace...
But then she ran away...frightened at the plethora of emotions that coursed through her hopeless body..afraid of her own shadow...afraid of what it meant...a reality she couldn't dream of..cudnt imagine..
worlds colliding.. hopes shattering...
she dare not love again...she dare not love again..she promised herself.."Not this time...not again"
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
It started out as a flame
Flickering
Dancing off a matchstick that was an idea.
It kindled an idea to help renew,
To regenerate what was once lost.
The fire grew
And with it
A passion that could not be extinguished.
The warmth was welcomed by her body
A body so cold
So helpless against the dangers of the world
And herself.
The fire gave power
And with the power there grew an inferno
Once ignited, could not be smothered.
The fire whispered
Through smoke and cinders;
It whispered
To encourage the distressing ideas that flowed through her.
She was frozen
Frostbitten to the bone without the fire
And so
To stay alive
She stayed close by the hearth.
When friends became concerned
They tried to call her back
But she was too attached to the blaze.
While the smoke tangled in her hair
And coursed through her veins
She drew in ever closer.
She huddled towards the light
That was leading her to her dangerous desires,
Cutting everything off
Except for the sea of flames.
She clung to her damaged thoughts
And kept the fire steady.
Going almost unnoticed
Her skin turned red and warm;
She was too happy to embrace the heat.
She understood she was too close,
Yet she rose from her perch
Roused by the incandescence
The feverish luminosity.
She
A mere mortal
Drew within reach of the alluring fire.
The flames licked her face
Her hands
Her hopelessly lost mind
As she dove in
Headfirst.
Everyone she had turned away watched
Unable to help.
She registered one single thought:
It's too hot.
But
It was too late.
She couldn't step away from the furnace;
For suddenly she was bound by ropes of her own doing
A funeral pyre just for her.
She was stuck within the depths
Of the scorching fire she had so arduously cared for.
She tried to call out
To those just outside the fireplace
Watching
Witnessing
But the fumes enveloped her
Stifling her pleas,
Her cries for help.
She couldn’t breathe
The embers burning her lungs as she inhaled,
Silencing her voice as she exhaled.
She flickered for a second more;
The life left her eyes.
She collapsed
Leaving ash and bone to intermingle into nothing.
What she had once mistakenly perceived
As an idea,
No larger than a matchstick,
Was something she could not control.
But no one could control a fire that destructive
Or
Deadly.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Disappointment coursed through my veins.
Another failure.
Another time I wasn't good enough.
Why am I not good enough?
Why can't I score straight As?
How can others',
who don't study as hard as me,
score higher than me?
I always tell myself to study harder.
And, I do!
Then, I get another failure.
I wallow in self-pity.
Why can't I change?
Each failure kills me from inside.
Chip by chip.
Piece by piece.
Excruciating pain.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 8:54 AM UTC
Apricus came upon a beauty far younger than he,
she lay in the forest glade like a daisy among the weeds.
Her body wet from the emanation of the morning light
it coursed through gaps of green in the furrowed canopy
and wrote atop her flesh with the knowledge
of our ancient galaxy.
The fragile flower insisted she travel with the poet
and Apricus could hardly argue against her plea,
he took her hand, yet she held tighter
as they walk beneath the dogwood trees.
The buds of spring began to blossom
and blooms of white hung like gowns among the leaves.
He faintly heard the sound of church bells ringing
calling from a far off village he could not see.
Not yet ready to return to the societal herd
Apricus stepped back, his eyes turned crooked
looking towards the wilderness from whence he came
but her touch had taken hold.
He realized now to break from her
was to break apart from something whole
and thus he spoke
*We learn when leaving those we love,
even as our paths have crossed and intertwined
that no matter how hard we try, our destinations,
they are different sometimes*.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Revenge for her parents death the drive
that became her passion.
The story began when she was a child
witnessing their killing!
Every detail taken in by her big eyes
to get the killer the prize.
Seventeen years painfully trickled by her
becoming an assassin.
As the hatred coursed through her veins
revenge drove her on.
Though wanting to seek the love she craved
retribution on her soul engraved!
She had found a man making it complicated
her fine tuning distorted.
This new friend had found her mobile phone
saving her photo image.
Trying to find out about this mystery female
allowing others to find her trail.
Gangs had lost foot soldiers to her expertise
who acted like a shadow.
For the first time had to be far more aware
her parents murderer alerted.
The last pages of her diary soon completed
could this evil be defeated?
Knowing he would catch up with her soon
she prepared to strike first.
Entering his mansion in a covert manner
dispatching silently his crew.
Until he was there without support alone
recognising his arrogant tone.
From a hidden point confronted head on
glaring with a cold stare.
Going to fire the gun held in sweaty hand
diving found a hidden weapon.
A bullet went right through her shoulder
he was quick though much older.
Her shot caught him in a main thigh artery
shattering the femur to.
There before her the man she hated so much
was now at her mercy.
She had prayed for years to see him die
openly then did she cry!
One more deep breath she shot him in the head
cruelly on his face a smile as he lay dead!
Knowing she would be a target vanished from sight
revenge in the end did not feel right!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
The door framed
Her silhouette;
The only light
Casting in
The window
From the moon.
A hand held
To her lips,
But it was so dark,
No one could tell.
All they could see
Was the gentle bob
Of her head
And shake
Of her shoulders
As silent sobs
Coursed through her.
The door framed
Her silhouette;
And the night
Played a symphony
Of sounds--
The crickets
And frogs
Each greeting the next
As the cicadas chirped
Their own Hellos
In reply to
The wolf's lone howl--
Which masked
Her gasping breathes
As she lost control
Of her tears.
The door framed
Her silhouette;
And she fell to her knees
Unable to stand
Anymore
While the weight
Of her world
Pressed with great might
Until she cried Mercy
And surrendered.
The door framed
Her silhouette;
And I could only
Watch in the mirror.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
A silhouette leaned back
Grey smoke distorted features demure;
Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation
Her rouge lips cut through
The darkness.
She took a long drag on her
Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated
A halo around her.
Midnight blue eyes surveyed
The Bijou Café
Carpet pooled on the floor,
Blood soaked with wine,
Enclosed by onyx sheets,
The far wall a mirror.
A reflection of the souled and soulless.
Bar welcome strangers, friends,
The lonely.
Sharing drinks and memories
Vines intertwined customers
A perchance meeting;
Rendezvous of sorts.
Nameless faces and acquaintances
Dotted the room, a familiar skyline.
Lonely tower missing.
Smooth black fedora
Hearts sank ships as
Waves of embarrassment
Enveloped her; disappointment.
Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden
Soared with a door creak.
Black fedora entered,
Smooth—slick as oil
Eyes were hidden beneath
A veil of night;
Silence became him.
Hush fell on the crowd
As the shadow took the stage
Light pierced through,
Illuminating him.
Orbs locked
Reservation started to pass,
Voice velvet smooth
Played every heartstring
Notes of excitement
Tantalized her veins,
Pulse quickened;
Echoing every tempo change.
Music coursed through her being
Sensual; seductive
Notes caressed curves, valleys
Spaces in between.
Emotion—chord dependent
Voice penetrated skin
Music flowed through her.
A mountain peek high
Mind clouded—
Breath escaped her lungs.
Quiet murmur answered her comedown
An empty stage; stalwart eyes
Fingers replaced music
Lips brushed hers; taste—electric
Smile turned smirk; hollow presence
Musky cologne in wake.
Magnetic pull forward
Fedora exited
Midnight eyes transformed to dawn;
Abandoned beneath the awning
Familiar skyline flowed liquid.
Bijou Café
Neon sign loomed dark
Save for a letter
I illuminated.
Heart tendrils retreated,
Back to roots; betrayed
Tears turned to water
Liquid guilt—love died.
Fingers loosed
Memory;
Small matchbook of shame
Lingering of once upon a time
In the gutter; pouring rain.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
The first night we met, we walked through the graveyard.
Our blood coursed through our veins
as we felt the lifelessness surrounding us.
Tombstones followed us on every side,
reminding us of our mortality.
The world was asleep
as we basked in the glow of the moonlight.
We spoke of the glimpse of the life that we have left.
I took you to a solemn grave.
Alone it stood
while the others were cast to eternity with another.
Hidden and out of sight,
we laid on the ground,
reminding us that we too shall one day be six feet below.
But as the moonlight shone on you that night,
no longer did I feel so alone.
The graveyard is my solace,
a dwelling for my solemn soul.
But as we laid on the ground,
no longer did I feel the imminence of death.
For with you,
I feel the beauty of life.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 10:45 PM UTC