"hunkering" poems
Where Is Shelter?
depends on the location of the storm…
so oft have I queried the gods and you?
Where is Shelter?
*to which, my response, while surrounded so well (!)
within
my moated island circumferences redoubt,
always was a simple:
“Here, Here is shelter!
But so human, thus so prone to delimited vision,
always, we scan the skies outward, fearful of
the hurricane and storm that approach,
from without, appearing, and the brewing
sky’s danger is visceral~visible to the naked eyes,
when,
it is disguised within the chambers of the
body, festering, until it is pestering, and
shelter, sadly, is not injectable, transferable,
easy remedial, and the hunkering down
with four walls not the solution, for the walls
themselves are damaged by decades of
waves of innocuous gently lapping that* still
*erode igneous granite(1) and fissure the self,
this secretive, enemy insidious…*
so it comes to be, that my own daggers have
pivoted, the pointy dangers pointed outwards,
well entrenched in their own defenses, now targeting
the whole of me, my outer walls breached, and
fired upon by cannons of cells, a treacherous
attack, bombardement par l'artillerie et les drones,
of the Fifth Column (2)…
so once more, say no more, but ask the brief of demand,
Where is Shelter?
the answer is as of yet to be decided,
but the forces
arrayed for and against
are equally determined!
W.S.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 3:30 PM UTC
Hunkering down in that small world of yours,
Knowing not what purpose it serves,
Not being able to tell your left from your right,
You still choose to stand up and fight.
I salute you, I do, my brave soul!
Take it, own it, reestablish control.
It’s your life, your dreams - yours to live.
It’s your love, your light - yours to give.
Your sorrow, your tears to shed.
Your own fate, your own path to tread.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
can we all hunker down
under the Magnolias
in the sand of the Plantation
driveway under
a confederate flag anymore?
draw our plans like Lee
would have, with a saber
a picture of lines
scribbled in the sand-
our carbine- loaded by our side
at the ready
our heritage the old war
or states rights
or slavery
when so much time and lives
have passed
and people oughta know more
about peoples,
about history,
about struggling
which all races do.
It wasn't pretty then.
Not the least bit.
And cotton , high or otherwise,
needs no slavery,
and bigotry is
ancient as
sorghum and
horse meat.
And man is man, proven to depend on a
falsity or hate to
defend his ancestry, his teachings,
instead of the question.
Here, with a stick
I scribble, while
down hunkering,
the least threatening position,
to ask of myself,
have I done what
I could. And the answer
of course,
the black man and the Mexican,
the Redman, the sensible ,
might answer, is
it will take time.
Do we have enough?
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
She sat by the mainstream area,
its ubiquity reminds her of such
hunkering for a man's silhouette,
stationed and immobile, beside her.
She spun her head, noticing
how candidly dull everything, and
everyone is. Yet, realizing among
it (and them) all, it was her--
the most unfortunate of all.
She felt the solitude, for herself.
Reckoning where to go, and
what to do. Whether to blame
herself, or to curse the world
for her miserable mishap.
She needed the prowess, so
she picked up that piece
of tissue paper to write on.
She poured out,
disgorged her thoughts. And,
on that moment, for once
at least, such miserable mishap
into a blessing in disguise
had transformed to.
She became a poet,
at least for once.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
I hoped to become an eagle
soaring above amber waves of grain
seeking perch in rarefied air
a red-tailed hawk,
or even a garden warbler
would have sufficed
instead I metamorphosed
into a mosquito and found myself
skulking on a fine lady's arm
I could only hope
she wouldn't swat me
before I drank my red full
and took flight into dusk
or returned
to my pitiable simian self,
lice laced and homeless, hunkering
in a cold corner, wishing
I could fly
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC
I have a two-week breaking point.
For 14 days I go through the motions: emotionless.
For a fortnight of time, I am indifferent to all things.
Yet on that 15th day I snap, bringing my composure down as well.
On the 15th day, I resort back to a shell of dependency,
hunkering away in isolation with nobody to depend on.
I become a nail made for a wall, but with no wall to go into.
My sole purpose is hopeless and my ambitions crushed.
Some may say I have a two-week expiration date.
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 9:46 PM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Lovely, terrible waves of love..
Wash her up upon the shore..
What first began an enchanted trip..
Has her sea sick, beggin for "No more!"
What on earth has happened to..
The woman who would make "all right"..
She was so ****** determined..
Her ship would sail, with sight..
From calmer seas she looked ahead,
Predicting demands to come..
Willed herself to be better than..
The experience which left her numb..
The storm itself caused some doubt..
Yet she defied the blinding rain..
Hunkering down through the beast,
Believed her mission not in vain..
Capsized went her beloved ship..
In the middle of the night..
Bewildered and so fightened was she..
Without a clue nor hint of light..
It is time now to move Dear One.
She heard from within..
This ship is lost, tis not home for you.
Its now, I'll teach you to swim.
"You must be joking right??
I have not even a vest!?"
Trust this voice to lead you home.
Let go! And I will do the rest.
Confused yet still in awe..
She reluctantly let it go..
With gulps for air, flailing arms..
Now her lesson God would show..
"I'm scared! I'm weak!
Don't leave me here alone!"
Such silence was mistaken..
For an answer she has no home.
Washed up upon the shore..
Through relief and bitter tears..
The inner voice whispered softly..
Dear One, now I've released from your fears.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
*A crystal drop upon glistening leaves;
A wale through bark upon towering trees.
A fresh gust of air with a simple breeze;
A livid set of clouds will hide skies keys.
Day desaturates and forms low degrees.
A sun falls down with a storms great displease.
Within the rain, plants will sink to their knees,
And wait patiently for a howl to seize.
A quite bird approaches cold with a sneeze,
Hunkering down to avoid late nights freeze.
Sporadically, winds form a silly tease,
‘Til gales quiet down and prepare with flees.
In morning’s clear rise, new day brings release,
Upon wishful flowers, which plant new seeds.
A wall of bad brings a gateway of ease,
Allowing grateful life to keep on sprees. *
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
The moment it suddenly hit me
that I’ve met a shedevil equal to mine
I growled,
temporarily put into a dark dungeon of torture.
She!
A much more mature woman than me,
(kindly speaking)
with a voice raspy like rusty screws
drilling into my brain.
Droning on and on, repeatedly…
Don’t you just hate people that repeat themselves over and over again to make a point?
I could literally see my dark widow wings flay in sheer rage at her persistent but utterly boring rants.
I got what she wanted… I really did.
But I would not and never will share her elitist thinking.
Hell no, and **** it to obliteration.
I’d rather walk away in brimstone and fire.
Slashing everything and everyone in my way to ash, dust and dead atoms,
before I lay my body down on their altar of stupidity.
And when I turned my tormented gaze toward that sniveling, coward of a man hunkering down beneath our war table.
Daring to smile in smug triumph…
I felt crimson violence take me over.
War is upon you all,
and you’re already dead.
you just haven’t realized it yet.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
Oak trees, Pine trees, Cottonwoods, and Birch
Upon these trees,
birds love to perch
Birds come in all
sizes and colors
Birds calling and chirping
with all the others
Squirrels, Rabbits,
Chipmunks, and Foxes
Scatter the grounds, burrow into holes, and sometimes boxes
Winter, Spring,
Summer, and Fall
They gather thier goodies,
to survive them all
Deer, Moose, Antelope, and Elk
Wander through fields,
woods, and corn silk
Grazing on whatever
nutrition they can find
All hunkering down in these times with thier own kind
Bears, Bobcats,
Cougars, and Wolves
Hibernation, catch prey, climb and attack, the
beautiful, wild dog packs
in droves
Deep dark caves, burrowed holes in the ground,
to wandering forests, and
great big meadows
All these predators seem to come from the shadows
Waves of lavender fields of dreams, like river beds of sand
Fields of flaxen, golden grass waiving with God's hand
Daisies, Buttercups,
Rose's, and Daffodils
Just smell thier sweet scents rise into the hills
Dreams are Wishes,
Wishes are dreams
Wildlife are the makings of everything in between
Flowers are the fragrance of life
The blue skies and
white fluffs of clouds
Take away all the strife...
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 1:30 AM UTC
Ready or not here he comes
Best you batten down the hatches
Unless you were one of the smart ones to run
Like a **** Hound in July chasing rabbits
Alright, alright, alright
As you turn and face the wind
Open the door to a Category 4
And let Matthew come screaming in
Oh me, oh my, oh my, oh me
Is that Grandma in the yard below
Hanging tight with all her might to the clothes line
With her cat Skeeters in tow
This is getting rather exciting
As I see trees by the dozen crack in half
With my Boy scout skills I might need to later build
A sturdy family size raft
But for now we'll all hunker down
Try and stay away from the windows
And all the flying debris that I decided to leave
In the yard scattered between plastic Flamingos
I'm here wondering at this moment
Which of the two could be worse
Being blown away by a hurricane
Or eaten by a gator face first
Still you've got to love Florida
With 20 foot waves crashing to shore
As I step outside to grab that branch floating by
I think I need to start whittling some oars
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Seeing you
is like opening an old door
to sunshine and warm breeze,
after hunkering indoors all winter.
Touching you
is like diving into the ocean for the first time,
the bubbles fizzling and the current playing with your toes.
Hearing your voice
is like Home got up and started talking,
and its favorite song is laughter.
Smelling you
is the familiar scent I’ve always known
but could never figure out from where,
until I met you.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
Through the path of chaos and destruction happening in the world
We need to all unite together and pray for everyone's safety
Gearing up for the worst to come
Hunkering down
Hoping for the best
Thoughts and prayers to everyone who will be affected
Let's all come together and be the light in the darkness that has been, and will be put upon us.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
The tang tastes of fright
Coppery like the penny-worth
Of thoughts from those that spy us
Leering long looks
At the guts and gleeful guzzling
Of poor beast that was beating
The earth with free hoofs
And eyes large, white-ringed brown;
That sight that had us
hunkering and chuckling.
Beneath the ****** rueful moon
We must look a site,
High and dizzy with that leaking
Lifeforce that warms the cold away.
Blue with the rays
And red with the crime,
Caught shame faced as it dribbles
Down our chin and into the dirt.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:36 PM UTC
Driving through a lake of frozen tears,
hardened and numb to anymore fears,
when you are out in the wilderness,
your mind can only stare at blankness.
Fighting through a winding river of crystals,
walking and wading just as we are mere mortals,
hunkering down to reach faraway bank of promising petals,
holding onto dipping heart rate wishing it was made of metals.
Just then shining crystals pointed to the sky,
ray of yellow brightened and brought a new high,
I got ready to pitch my tent in that cold like it was dry,
for I was ready to face my own fears and give it a goodbye.
Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 6:28 PM UTC
This is mine
The overwhelming urge to share
Is a symptom of a condition
Is a desperate plea for affirmation
Unbecoming one as needy and selfish
As I
There was a time
I was the loudest laugher
When the laughter was at my expense
Hunkering down, stealing against depression
With varying degrees of "success"
My sense of self-deprecating humor has suffered
But this is mine
So I can take it with me to the grave
Walk it down the aisle
Put it on my face fall in love with mirrors
Turn up my nose in scorn
At any fool who thinks he can take it from me
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
we claw through brittle days
upon calloused hands
hearts chiseled into Celtic swords
yet we hold on-
hunkering down through
blistering nights,
trudging beneath
the frosted moon,
awakening at mottled dawn, sleep deprived,
riddled with a profound ache
for distant fairy stories
we will not surrender
to shrieking banshees,
to long-stemmed loneliness,
to prevailing hunger,
to our minds' mischiefs fretting
as shadows in
unforgiving hours
instead we galvanize as druids,
extracting golden amber
from faraway dreams
depositing them as seeds stowed
beneath winter's cloak-
lore keepers
of pandemic secrets
-until spring
thaws the frozen river beds
of our poetic fingers
pollinating speech
while we spawn
into garnet roses
(blood soaked with piecing stems)
a reawakening of voracious beauty,
the roaring Aslan,
unmuzzled prophesier
of breaking dawn
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 2:15 PM UTC
The brightness
of the morning sky
pierces my eyes
birds gladly chirping
in merry exultation
a distant radio blabbers
hunkering for someone's
valuable attention...
The leaves appear to me
as lovely emeralds --
a beautiful, greenish hue
the trees sway monotonously
as if compelled
in a steady dance
absentee music:
silence.
I am aware.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC
Atypical that’s what I think of myself but no one cares, their lives go on indefinitely
Because who knows what life has to offer, what is life, my teenage eyes are blinded and can't comprehend or understand such complex questions.
Caring for none than thyself. Those words are mentioned to me, every time I attempt to say or do anything for my family.
Despite all the people and a family that accompany us, we still feel unheard and unloved.
Existentialism is a cruel thing. I’m not ready, not ready for my comptent of existence.
Fear and terror are instilled in my heart, a fear of what the future has to bring.
Growth. I see my own growth and germination and I feel lost
Have I learned enough? Will I survive in this enhanced world? Has my heart grown enough?
I miss my innocence. Innocence was bliss. A wonderful and unexpected bliss. It was protection, protection from the world that I now have to face.
Joy is not something as easy to feel as it had been, joy was underestimated by me. Joy is not underrated
Keen to survive and lay my roots down. Keen to believe in goodness and love.
Lost, that's what I am, lost in a sea of people
Maltreatment is not something that is inflicted by others, it's something that one can inflict on thyself. Maltreatment is disdain that runs deeper than any blade
Nostalgia is overwhelming but it's something that I feel most of the days
Oppression clouds my thoughts and feeling, as I try to find the light that is my voice.
People pass by and can't hear or see me. I am being ignored by people who know who they are.
Quivering, my hands are still quivering from all the pain and memories.
Realizing that hope is for fools.
Shoving my feeling inside
Trying to grasp on reality
Understanding that my existence is not known.
Victory will be one of those words unheard for me.
Wilting and withering. I am slowly wilting and withering into the ground.
X-rays won’t fix me as I go down this path of disdain
Years will pass and I still can't comprehend why I am here.
Zippering up and hunkering down.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC