"emblematic" poems
Once I lost you
Once I tossed you
You never said a word
I never could have heard
Miracle you bore
A refugee in the wreckage
Sharpening your wings
Withstanding dangerous oppression
Young being, incomplete being
Trying not to succumb
To your own capitalist appropriation
Eminent commodification
Implicating your body and mind
Who remained unscathed?
Who wreaked the havoc?
Just...so many wings could gain wind
In this cage, lacking space
System simply cannot withstand
Cost of everyone's liberation
Convenient systematic predilection
Where some are never meant to fly
Miracle you bore
A refugee in the wreckage
Sharpening your wings
Withstanding dangerous oppression
How can any wings soar
When the trail of their shadows
Hide systematic traps for our failure
To ensure only a few course the skies
Liberation is not meant to be
Just yours or mine
No commodity for private consumption
Its usage, embrace, and appropriation
Has universal implications
A radical transformation that seeks to complete a human being
Emblematic of an ideological reconceptualization
A revolutionary new understanding of being human
A re-authentication of our own liberation
Purely predicated on that of others
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
*The odor of blood drops in drapes,
figures half-lit form false shapes;
the bed on which I lie and the windows
welcome what the delicate line knows:
the open imagination's well-kept trade
that many shrug off
with a stilted stare or cough,
throwing discredit on what honest hands have made.
All that dreamlike inspiration
becomes a beautiful conflagration:
the smell of emblematic men and women slain,
and flickering lights from where thought's shadows came,
issue out of the creative heart's desire
that's uncontrollable,
requiring an artistic toll,
like the worn fingers of the bard that plays the lyre.
But that's what poetry's about,
a deep and draining silent shout;
the hand is left cramped and consumed,
the heart's violet blossoms begin to bloom:
sedative perfumes slide over your wearied frame –
half-memories abate,
the odorous dead dissipate –
you're deserted, yet the halcyon heart flares aflame.
Symbols come and symbols go:
the disfigured trees obscured by snow,
or simply standing against the wind
or windless heat; a cherished friend,
loved ones who’ve passed and the Lost Lyricist;
the Muse that eludes
the damp room in which it broods;
an image of stream near a stony tower’s twist.
Find here, dear reader and friend,
a testimony sung over again.
I write this text to release me from
broken thoughts and anger’s sum:
all that childhood and adolescence approved.
The unvoiced thoughts
of a boy caught by cast lots
inked to find something beyond evanescent truths.*
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 9:31 AM UTC
Last night was for Linda Crige chanting of love excitement that wakes the sleeping forest.
Six rounds ***
What is my concern?
Nevertheless, uncle is back with Mercy Bukas. Tonight I shall spy through the keyhole.
But it was not like yesterday, my eye greeted the ***** of the moment with the intensity of the sun.
The night was for conversation! for conversation!
"I am pregnant this is the test result, four month and two weeks." Voice seized from close range. My eye gazed uncle's mind, though it was misty.
This must be emblematic of joy I inferred. Pandemonium broke out and silenced the smiling breeze, argument ravaged the air. Uncle denied "It is for Danjuma"
Not a muttered curse from the two sides. Ogun and Sango did not awake from their tranquil sleep regardless but Esu was at work. Their curse appalled my heart not once. "Who is at home to settle the rage"
but rather the awaken forest was matching closer. "I never promise to marry you" uncle glued my ears with his voice of wiles. Chapter closed.
Alas, a child will be born, head for uncle, dark-skinned as Danjuma, others for Alien.
An unfortunate child will be born by a promiscuous mother to licentious father only if not a descendant of sewage.
Ogun: god if iron
Sango: god of thunder
Esu: Yoruba name for satan
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
The vibrant blue paint on the walls seems
almost like that emblematic Technicolor
blue. I've had the blues, but they didn't
look like these. The house constricts--
the ceiling seems to dip towards my head
closing in on me. I fly. Back in Jazzy's room,
I notice, with humor, a label on the spice:
"Not intended for human consumption."
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:30 AM UTC
...The thing with no name,
Surrounded by sadness,
That kind of sadness
Penetrating its silence,
That kind of silence
Searching the tears,
Those tears
Becoming cubes of light,
Those cubes wondering
On their situation of their becoming,
Being involved in a movement
Apparently anarchic,
Needing, ''a priori cognoscible'',
Synthetic truths
And empirical postulates
On the shape of their inner dislocation,
Their shear looping into unstable equilibrium,
Needing a stable equilibrium,
Becoming emblematic symbols
Of the diminishing boundary
Between real and unreal,
That cubic thing withdrawing itself,
Slowly becoming
Memory....
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 3:53 PM UTC
tattooing,casting desires deeper than your itch
my ink spelling words every where you stink
you seem more responsive when they call you *****
I just want YOU to deliver after YOU think
we will cast lines into the now,living the new
angling or casting nets in different schools
you whistle one of my tunes,thoughts carry our points of view
with me battering your shields,you sharpening my tools
I'm casting lots,chancing,I swear you might call me sinful
knowing no boundaries,spanning bridges,jumping fences
your prize ***** is perfumed wine by the divine skinful
I do dare to share in your gifts of senses
I dare to cast an eye over your image within your frame
and hold them both when you are hot and cold
listening to your songs when you play your name
you will cause me to search for treasures of old
cast down your burdens speak to me in confidence free from fears
downcast looks have never been emblematic of your worth
I toil with dirt and sweat in exchange for your loving and tears
to buy tonight with you and tomorrow with the earth
broadcast the forecast sell me what you believe
tell me what you think let me feel what you throw
do you bleed from the heart tattooed on your sleeve
are you typecast do you ink what you think do you show what you know
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
Disoriented poem
True nonsense
But by definition
Does it have purpose
Tell me for certain
Is it a worthless fraud
Composed of senses’ shells
Concealing life without the law
Law of a motive,
One’s reason and justification
Now fragmented with a poem
But is the poem illustration
Symbolic, emblematic,
Is their truth in its act
Of destruction, any thinking?
Shall it raze the moral ground?
Or far more quickly
Blight us all?
All in this state, this
fluster,
This plight,
All in this way
That we’re departing
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
Emblematic of the all American middle class boyhood
Cleanse these filthy blood-spattered hands
Modifying dreams into death
A clown can get away with ******
Spreading smiles on the faces of children
Bodies in the crawlspace
A letter everyday
Just to taunt you
You’ll never catch me
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 10:00 AM UTC
Reflections
I lie placid silent and calm your great winsomeness reaches over me not disturbing in the least you add a
texture that is signature peace when caos ripples in the wider waters I know soft shadows speaking
revealing a clarity upon this mirrored glass of my soul you are as light as a breath speaking in a whisper
as the night follows day you reveal your self flawless is the transition from light to darkness you are the
sum total of many voices in diversity much is added the common theme harmoninous interchange
where there is lack then you add the needed part without fanfare this is what makes value as golden
moments increase significance the volume of spirit pours in and the soul rises out of view submerged
ideas latent with good will tells the story in deeper depths where shallow and empty realities find
a residing place now they are displaced as added instruments inrich musical pieces giving more depth
and feeling the empty darkness catches these delightful strains a soothing wave seems to fill the broken
spaces moonlight medicates with a silver substance brings euphoric doses as if disimbodied goodness
waves a magic wand you rise and drift on unseen wings a playfulness enters the heart you know not
from where but from borders of tranquil regions the flow emblematic dreams stream ubidden into the
mind the glory yet tasted is somehow permeating our stiff halted lives freedom brought from
inexaustable climes measureless helps will be as the tide if we will close ourselves from distractions that
are plentiful and short circuit our whole beings be still and know That I am God the human cry is what
shall I do in those golden yesterdays they put out rain barrels when they wanted soft water how much
more should we be catching the soft water falling from heaven to counteract the hard and at times
brutal actions that we unleash on one another tears and weeping are not unmanly they are the secret
guides that allow us to behold ourselves and then with power that restrains outward mindless acts that
hurt and offend gentle sense created by comfort from an indisputable place of well being you hold the
higher ground your decisions are true and correct and from placid to unerring truth you divide and map
a true and correct path
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 5:55 AM UTC
Anticipatory quiet,
and the gathering fullness
builds upon itself in secret,
unknown ways.
Here in this old kitchen,
morning finds you in a shirt
silkscreened with one distant
cluster of stars.
Emblematic, a medicine shield
guarding a silent, wise heart
equally full of light.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
Reflections
I lie placid silent and calm your great winsomeness reaches over me not disturbing in the least you add a
texture that is signature peace when caos ripples in the wider waters I know soft shadows speaking
revealing a clarity upon this mirrored glass of my soul you are as light as a breath speaking in a whisper
as the night follows day you reveal your self flawless is the transition from light to darkness you are the
sum total of many voices in diversity much is added the common theme harmoninous interchange
where there is lack then you add the needed part without fanfare this is what makes value as golden
moments increase significance the volume of spirit pours in and the soul rises out of view submerged
ideas latent with good will tells the story in deeper depths where shallow and empty realities find
a residing place now they are displaced as added instruments inrich musical pieces giving more depth
and feeling the empty darkness catches these delightful strains a soothing wave seems to fill the broken
spaces moonlight medicates with a silver substance brings euphoric doses as if disimbodied goodness
waves a magic wand you rise and drift on unseen wings a playfulness enters the heart you know not
from where but from borders of tranquil regions the flow emblematic dreams stream ubidden into the
mind the glory yet tasted is somehow permeating our stiff halted lives freedom brought from
inexaustable climes measureless helps will be as the tide if we will close ourselves from distractions that
are plentiful and short circuit our whole beings be still and know That I am God the human cry is what
shall I do in those golden yesterdays they put out rain barrels when they wanted soft water how much
more should we be catching the soft water falling from heaven to counteract the hard and at times
brutal actions that we unleash on one another tears and weeping are not unmanly they are the secret
guides that allow us to behold ourselves and then with power that restrains outward mindless acts that
hurt and offend gentle sense created by comfort from an indisputable place of well being you hold the
higher ground your decisions are true and correct and from placid to unerring truth you divide and map
a true and correct path
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
I was raised under shield and gun
Looked in my fathers eyes and grew under thumb
Theres awes for mah stalls
Hug and hold you in our paws
for the cause
we pause for this applause
I make friends
I get blown
I make friends
I go home
I make friends
and get shown
the Dark side
of the moon
skip tracks
forget facts
neural lightning
get stacked
I end my cigarrete
and grab my beer
Wander in horror
Its my self that I fear
Salty frozen pearls glimmer
in the passing, fading carlight
I keep rooted in the shadow
and stay running from mah fright.
It knocks in my head
never alone
it follows my steps
crucial loss of character
in need of a seraph
some sort of
charsimatic actor
some sort of
emblematic factor
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
The sun cracks the atmosphere with the utmost roar which makes you ask yourself whats in store for today being that way brings less decay and obstacles along the way in a new day. Beams of light going through the shades as your favorite dream fades and you're left with emblematic scenarios and no choice but to take care of those. In everyday there are the highest and lowest points but those are the moments that are cherished most. Morning is time to start the day and prepare for your destiny and making the best of it is important because 24 hours isn't an eternity
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
although, incredible, the dogmatic pursuit of absent-mindedness, two left feet up the [redacted]
i would make a remark about how fast the time has gone
but i never looked up
to see it moving
wish upon a
wish upon a
wish upon a moribund eternally pessimistic star
[if i was a poem, dear disinterested reader, i think i would be a fridge poem. not very profound, nor eloquent, and rather insipid; though it's quite funny that i exist in the first place]
Me & Earl & The Dying Light Emblematic Of, Or Perhaps Symptomatic Of, My Interest In Whatever It Is You Have To Say
met a genie on a long road
delivered with the smoke of a cracked kitchen kettle
juggling three wishes
in his drunken monologue
like a blind man juggles bowling pins
and stupidly i used them all
on making the next few tomorrows disappear
and now i'm here
...
anyway how may i take your order?
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
Never meant to be a symbol.
There are others who came before.
They carried the cross long before me.
I walk their path with head held high;
A journey emblematic of the times.
Getting here took some time.
Determination of Napoleon…
The grit of John Wayne…
The courage of the Cowardly Lion…
All emblematic of what was required.
Now, I am free.
Life is different now.
I am surrounded by those who matter.
Their love consumes like the ocean.
I am planning on drinking it in.
What happens next is meant for me.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
They were emblematic of the times, those park benches. Carefully placed among the trees in front of the courthouse, some aligning with the concrete walkway leading up to the front doors.
Come mid-morning, they would begin to arrive, those "old timers." Taking what appeared to be their "favorite bench in their favorite place', as if it were assigned seating. They had been gathering for a long time, many on a first name basis with lawyers, judges, clerks, peace officers.
Most were veterans of the military, serving in World War II, and Korea. One was a veteran of World War I, which history called "The Great War." One had served with the French Foreign Legion, another a constable in the Yukon Territory of Canada. They were mesmerizing with their endless library of stories.
Several years ago, in a newspaper column, I read this quote, origin unknown: "When an elderly person dies, a history book is lost." That could not be more true. My wife, Karen, for several years worked at at a retirement facility. She would often, and intentionally, begin a conversation with the residents to get them talking about their experiences. She described how their eyes would "light up" when they would begin recalling events in their lives, people they had known, or related to, places where they had been, etc. All because someone
showed an interest -
in them.
Do I need to say more?
copyright: richard riddle March 04, 2015
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
With
Hybrid
Genes you
Lack connective
Tissue
Body
Bones
Fall apart
Stones and earth
Provide
Emblematic deaths
In overcrowded
Cityscapes
Bewildered by
Your goddess names
I bow
Fish-like
Hooked on
Venerable
Devotion
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
The pretense of circular reasoning paints the eyes
a misty shade of dull.
Eyes that view, from the dragon perch
of a counterclockwise carousel,
imagined scenery with a sprinkling of dreams.
A Gothic vision of crashing waves
against the grayish cliffs
that rise to a foggy grass clad plain
where sits the emblematic gabled home
with ****** in the windows.
The calliope moans a dragging tune
to match it's steady spin.
the sound of wind through tarnished brass
archaic and unsettling, a broken drag
of whiny sounding notes in a symphony of impotence.
You seem to look and dress the part
of the person you portray;
feigning superficiality for acceptance in the world
I, myself, am not for a second fooled.
You are the very essence of substance and depth
The carousel comes to a gradual halt
a hesitant dismount;
back to your prison of practicality and need;
visions pass from ominous to pastoral tranquility
The eccentric dragon of blue and gold awaits your return.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Title: Lingering Wounds
The vestiges of my wounds persist,
Undeniably unhealed as the passage of years ensues.
A palpable sense of self-negation prevails,
The weight of the past causing an abrupt collapse.
The reservoir of tears, once considered a remedy,
Proves futile in altering the irrevocable theft.
Today's scars are emblematic remnants,
Echoing the enduring pain of yesterdays.
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 8:19 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Revelations about the Kremlin
Has him trembling
From the static
Which might be emblematic
Of the issue that’s at hand
Now that we understand
The clear-cut intersection
Of the Trump Russian connection
We can tell that Sessions lied
When he vehemently denied
Having had a discussion
With a diplomat who’s Russian
During the Trump campaign
And so the fact remains
That after all is done and said
It stinks straight from the head
And before he takes a fall
He will probably stonewall
About the true nature
Of its nomenclature
Claiming outright ignorance
In this and every sense
Seeking full absolution
As the ultimate solution
Calls for his resignation
Can be heard throughout the nation
And let’s not forget
That he was a surrogate
Not simply a senator
Which would cause us to ignore
The role he actually played
So our memory doesn’t fade
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Its color sat somewhere on the spectrum between brown and gray
(Such things being dependent on vagaries of the light,
And the perspective of the beholder)
And it served as a testament
To the muted benefits of near adequacy,
Being too thin for the portentous winds of December,
And too warm for the capricious sunshine of May,
Its threadbare functionality emblematic of its owner,
Whose relationship with those around him
(Indeed mankind and his universe in general)
Vacillated between an affronted indifference
And an implacable if somewhat muted contempt,
His commerce with his fellow man,
Excepting that required to provide him
With the basics of sustenance and shelter,
Carried on in an epistolary fashion,
Through letters he wrote,
Sometimes to those he encountered on a daily basis,
More often to mankind and the unheeding cosmos in general,
Which were stuffed higgledy-piggledy into his coat pockets.
These missives were not humdrum laundry lists
Of those slights and injuries, be they petty or mortal,
But rather soaring and high-flown in nature and tone,
More kin of the sermon than the scolding,
Celebrations of life’s splendors great and small,
More often than not those he knew little or nothing of first-hand.
He’d no intention of sharing these dispatches
With the world at large or anyone in particular;
He’d simply empty his pockets once they were full enough
To present an inconvenience,
And he’d laundered any number of them
On more than one occasion,
And when he’d passed behind this earthly veil,
All but unnoticed and unmourned,
His landlady had simply emptied the contents of the coat's pockets
And consigned them to the trash,
Believing the garment barely fit for charitable purposes
Washed and given a goodly airing out,
Let alone burdened with the detritus of another man’s life.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
After most recent shower,
and particularly washing hair
(then shaking head
analogous to sopping wet dog
drying her/himself after a bath),
I immediately said helloo
to Long lasting fragrance Suave
essentials Daily Clarifying
Deep cleansing Shampoo,
which permeated mine scalp
facilitating healthy follicles.
More so frothy lather upon noggin
after getting rinsed out
yielded bounteous, luscious, luxurious,
and marvelous full bodied tresses
reminiscent when yours truly an adolescent,
a veritable long haired pencil necked geek
whose hirsute trademark
still characterizes atypical sexagenarian
above mentioned characteristic
still (after scores of years)
emblematic of this enigmatic poetaster.
Ever since being in utero
soon after seminal fusion
insync with fallopian tube bearing ova
begot zygote courtesy said gametes,
and engendered silent boom
after piercing zona pellucida
creating microscopic flume,
nevertheless collection of cells
coalescing into embryo
eventually manifesting into yours truly,
I painstakingly took minuscule
comb and brush to groom,
and dreaded most fearfully being locked,
where pair of outsize scissors did loom
threatening to cut thick,
what could best be envisioned analogous
to imperceptible fancy plume
hich features specific feature
drew medical community
(i.e. namely human reproductive specialists)
constituted extensive expanse
within blastocyst very limited room
crowd sourcing out rivaling curious onlookers
formerly geared up
to espy King Tutankhamun's tomb
can you dear reader believe
a hairy globule within the womb
became global attraction
viz - of a young fecund Harriet Harris,
cuz about nine months later
out the birth canal I did zoom.
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 7:01 PM UTC
The weekend sprinted past without acknowledgement. More time travel than sleep. Feels like I never left this desk. Did I go outside? Sunlight is a forgotten fancy. Everything buzzes in artificial, mercury-vapour gas-discharge, office white.
Strong coffee, mouth-only smile, and emergency chocolate at-the-ready.
Digital calendar fairy sweeps her wand - plink.
Upcoming meeting onset.
Wince.
Nearly go-time.
Deep breath.
I need help.
Close my eyes and consider my options.
In silent prayer, I call on my battle-allies. My conflict squad for the tiny, inconsequential campaigns that are laid out before me, scheduled neatly in 30-minute increments.
Sarcastic skirmishes with witless weapons. Budgetary disbursement battlegrounds, each heralded by a twinkly bright plink. Officious double agents and grinning traitors. Good sense and basic decency defeated ad nauseam.
Inwardly, I flick through my mental deck of cards. Mythic personality avatars. Figurative and emblematic. Mostly trusted, often helpful allies and collaborators. My squad. Grown over years. Battle-honed when the stakes were substantially higher.
Nine of Swords, Nymph Aegina
Scared and small. Of water and steel
Daughter of rivers
Mistrust, despair
Reduce, retreat, conceal
Queen of Swords, Pallas Athena
Warriors and winter. Shrewd and tough
Strength and judgement
Challenge, compel
Defeat, critique, rebuff
King of Cups, Charles the Great
Gifted and keen. Springtime and fire
Patron of culture
Consider, rethink
Exhort, create, inspire
Five of Wands, keening Achos
Dust and torment. Deep distress
Bringer of weeping
Commend, lament
Regret, bewail, profess
Queen of Wands, Lady of Lorien
Fearless and brave. Of summer and tree
Wielder of Light
Perform, protect
Assert, direct, decree
I select our Lady, knowing that Aegina and Achos may vie for a cameo.
Channelling my Queen of Wands,
I arrange my face
and await the knock at the door.
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 5:42 AM UTC
Autumn brings rebirth
The closing out of summer
And the renewal of the cycle
Signifying a time of regeneration
With cool, crisp golden mornings
Faster time paces
As the days grow slightly shorter
And momentum challenges
The fledgling generation
To rekindle itself anew
No more a time of consumption
Or empty days of dreary longing
But a momentary highlight
That expunges the emblematic
And erases the scars of lassitude
And lethargic days that summer brings
The bounty of fall’s beginnings
Fills trees with yellow splendor
And refocuses the thirst that redefines
The topography of the soul
No longer the empty moments
Of fantasies forgotten
That sorrows never cling to
And time alone can’t quell
Only the rebirth of autumn
As the harvesting of last year
Cleanses fields and forests
Making way for new born buds
That reveal through empty spaces
Left by falling embers
Of things that are best forgotten
And glories yet to come
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 7:35 AM UTC