"medallion" poems
You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
On her own.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
the clay patio was baking
just hot
enough for the dough to rise and crisp
and for you to spread your blanket
in the sun
perfect for a picnic with the kids
and observing the man on that really tall bicycle
it’s times like these when you think
why doesn’t everyone just shut off
and bake in the sun
with a glass of peach tea and a pair
of well behaved kids
who share life like it was their job to love
each other
their mother
dad
and especially
the old dog
even the young lovers get jealous
as their gaze from the park to
your front patio
witnessing that there is something more to love
than just body heat
chocolate-dipped strawberries
and jazz clubs
that children grow like spinach flowers
in mellow
medallion
heat
until the training wheels come off
and they feel earth’s balance for the first time
and the peaches!
they shackle the branches
like juicy bombs
and you decide that
mothers are like fruit
unbruised
unwashed
and perfect
something that God
herself
keeps in her finest
crystal bowl and replants
in the summer
mother
sister
friend
shoot me some of that peach tea
you’re drinking
that sun you are soaking
that air you are breathing
the world needs more of you
and you deserve the last taste
of its summer light
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
a regime of stars pollinate the impossible
as i linger underneath the yawning medallion of Nightsky
and tarry in the lanes of luminous, gawking at the Quiet.
South of Afternoon.
i plunge into my garrulous despair like an Olympian.
leaving ripples in the peace with shallow valleys
and iridescent peaks.
my swayback is the slope of a grassy knoll of iron will
sleeping on the job
wide awake.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Soft Gemini green eyes
Flashing a circular medallion
whose meaning
is manifested in skulls
Orders four doughnuts "because
The world is ending tonight"
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 8:59 AM UTC
Gilded Light's iron visage--wormhole rider...
cosmic switch breaker.
Restoring Lacyrma Christi in fell swoop...
decorated to Seventh Sun, heart of Heart's
medallion.
Distilled justice, pure in action to all its
vitals...sword sharpened by thin air.
Resounding honorary--there, anywhere--
when dark tips the balance...off with what
head before eye may blink.
A wrathful entry, a peaceful exit...there is
no Art of War but through him.
Archangel Michael, giver and taker of fear...
stores Satan's eyes in his own...to
perpetually unnerve him.
Dragonslayer to the degree dragons appear
as lush foliage all the way to Heaven,
cut down...plummeting to an entrail
darkening with sleep.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
It was meant for her
she felt it but yet
to her she couldn't get it
It was in her linage
but yet she thought
she couldn't get there
cus' she was a commoner
and of a forbidden race,a Jew
It was true her family was
wiped out by the Amalekites
leaving her and her cousin orphaned
still destiny had great plans for them
It was true that in the whole
of Persia she was among the most
beautiful maiden but yet her cousin
now her father prevented her from
leaving the house and coming in contact with the king
As she grew into a lady
she became more beautiful and
this actually made her the most
beautiful lady in the whole of Persia
As she was being promised
by her late mother her cousin
now her father gave her the Tresured Medallion
the Star of David when she
became a full blown woman
Since out of love and care
she ran not in disguise of a boy
but her self to the palace to save Jesse
her friend who they captured to make
a palace official but unfortunately for her
she was immediately siezed to be among the Queens to be
something she always wished for but
because of wht they did to her
the palace was her most feared place
At the palace in the harem
she found favour in the eyes of the royal enouch Hegai
and everyone in the palace
making her the most loved person in the palace
Hegai kept the secret of her being a Jew
As time went on she waited
for the night with the king
that single night that would change
everything for her and her family
and truely that night came and
she found favour in the king's eyes
and through this she became the
Queen of Great Persia
We all would be wondering
who this lucky girl is and what her name is
well this is just a little story of Jewish girl
who was greatly favoured by God
whose name was changed from Hadassah
to Star of Pussa to Queen Esther
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
...
*"She is indeed the happiest Oracle of Leo the Lion,
born as his innocent prophet
of divine sunlight~
tumbling~
spilling;
"eternal flower."
:to recite the amber
prophecies with
the lions ~fire'tongue~
in showers of orange rain.
She was the king's candle;
a starlit lantern of medallion grace.
She wears a dress of violet promises and peace
that tickles the wind to knock on the sky.
Asking the nightfall of questions in sleeping stars~
"Why do I miss her?"
Her words were fused with kindness and marigolds;
to cleanse the darkest infections within
a lion's soul
and his injured pride.
You are so lonely, Leonie.
With your heart forgotten in the lions cave.
Loyalty is built on your visions and bones.
Yellow masks that paint the walls of your prison,
and it's a sadness that the king cannot mend.
So this isolation becomes the voice of reason.
and freedom is the voice of treason.
Deep within the lions den, the ceiling fell at 2 a.m,
twisting~
buckling;
demolishing,
:stones falling to their knees.
With hope and reckless saltwater dreams
she fled with ember feet to see
the moonlight showering in.
Notes of silver plucked the wind,
as ink and blue stirred the rubble
There stood a girl, on cracked stone table;
with a white rabbits' mask and metallic hair.
Willow vines weeping along her arms
dress as deep as crow feathers;
and the hush of a dragon's wing
swinging from her neck;
crystals throwing light in her wake.
"My prophecy said you would come."
futures that unravel at a white line in the dust;
And the darkness pulled on her robes of silk;
while she took off the mask
and blue eyes met golden windows
Descending to meet the oracle in wisdom;
a warning whispered to her
ties with solitude
The moon spoke with a thousand tongues that night;*
"You have to roar Leonie; So the heavens can hear you."
...
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
"You won" he said.
as he slapped a label on my back
Your story's been read
then he left me with the pack
I guess I won
the prize is shame;
a forgotten name,
a lifetime of pain.
At least something's been gained
another award put in the stash
My medallion of empty gold
to help soften my headfirst crash
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
Lids open with a snap
to thick, almost solid,
streams of moonlight
In the silver haze,
Black holes peer
from an alabaster face
Complete paralysis
crushes my hope of escape
every skin cell stitched to the sheets
My mind terrified,
my body tingling
with unexpected relaxation
Waves of calm roll
through every muscle
turning me to nothing
feeling as if my bones
have vanished with
the interrupted dream
The swing of a medallion
through beams of static light
My eyes swivel in their sockets
Skinny fingers snap
Everything turns to black
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
the raiders show, full time report, 21 march 2015, we ****
as we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a great start but then they faded away
just like they usually do
you see the raiders were woeful, especially in the 2nd half
no i am discusted oh yeah
it was the worst match, back to the old drawing board
johnny’ thanks and what a woeful performance in the end, by the raiders, and it actually is a hard
job picking the raider of the match, only one raider scored in the second half, but here is sue longways
with the raider of the match, horrible effort
sue’ yeah, johnny, it was a horrible effort but the raider of the match goes to brett austin, now brett what went wrong
brett’ well, sue, we were woeful in that second half, and the dragons were just too good
sue’ yeah, were you thinking victory, at half time, maybe too over confident so to speak
brett’ yeah, maybe we were over confident in the first half, but the dragons got 8 points before the break, and
then another 14, well, anyway, terrible match
sue’ anyway here is the raider of the match medallion, congrats and now here is bob from gordon
bob’ and now we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a really terrible game, buddy a terrible match for the raiders team
yeah the raider, ya know they do **** it was a woeful game
what happened to the hopeless raiders, ya know the raiders ****
what is wrong with the mighty raiders, they didn’t look so mighty tonight
why couldn’t the raiders win it, i think it’s just that their hopeless
sue’ and now here is johnny brown with his jingle, not our johnny brown, johnny from duffy
johnny’ we are on the rocking horse caused by the raiders losing
you see we rocked all day long
they are sitting on the rocking horse, all day long, my love
i wished our raiders won
you see, the raiders had a bad match, good start, but hopeless finish
really the raiders faded, yeah, what a woeful effort, yeah woeful effort woeful effort yeah mate ****** yeah
sue’ thanks johnny brown, and now back to our johnny brown
johnny’ thanks sue, that was a terrible match and to make matters much worst, we play the roosters next game
and i say, we’ll lose to the roosters next week and here is micheal with his jingle
micheal, go the dragons, we kicked some ****** ***
go dragons, we showed some fucken class
yeah the mighty st george, oh yeah, yeah they were great in the end
go dragons kick some ****** *** go dragons, show some ****** class
go the dragons go the dragons, dragons won true blue, GO DRAGONS
johnny’ ok now everybody it’s beer o’clock and the raiders were given a football lesson, a rootball lesson
and we have the reason to give canberra much credit, except for the first 18 points
CATCH YA NEXT TIME raiders show fans
DRAGONS OVER RAIDERS 22 - 20
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
The frequent phenomenon of this empty place,
Gathering energy it cannot replace,
Submerged in darkness, foreshadowing night,
Paroxysm shook, stirring up light,
Out from the chaos four beings stood,
Together infused, singular brotherhood,
Light blends them all mistaken into one,
Thirty-five times stronger, than the power of our sun,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath,
Pioneering our concept of constellations,
Bent at the handle, insidious oscillations,
Corruption was constant, like a plagued medallion,
When he collared his confederate, a maniacal stallion,
Couriers of desecration, colonial devastation,
Oxidizing nations, burning depredation,
Lord and auxiliary, imperial arrogation,
And with a single voice, they declared themselves king,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
THE BRASS medallion profile of your face I keep always.
It is not jingling with loose change in my pockets.
It is not stuck up in a show place on the office wall.
I carry it in a special secret pocket in the day
And it is under my pillow at night.
The brass came from a long ways off: it was up against hell and high water, fire and flood, before the face was put on it.
It is the side of a head; a woman wishes; a woman waits; a woman swears behind silent lips that the sea will bring home what is gone.
1.3k
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse
"Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets' food is love and fame."
An Exhortation, st. 1 (1819)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
------------------------------------
Let us intimate a Poetic Competition,
Tween an Irish lass,
and a New York Jew,
I shall serve, and you,
You shall return
A contest:
Our tongues, our racquets,
Across the table,
The words shall bird fly,
Across the net,
Couplets and haiku
Shall smash and whistle
The winner will be the one
The God of Poetry
Accepts for permanent servitude
You **** my poetic soul forever
With the currency of praise genuine,
Authentic, flowing and fulsome,
Awarding me the Medallion Doheny
Cash value, a mere Irish penny,
But to the poet, the food of love and fame
Genetic to your nature,
You exhale word rhythms,
Excitable and interrupting,
Speech free flowing,
Tho I am of the People of the Book,
You, by birthplace,
Are unfair poetry advantaged
All your utterances
Are action heroes of the heart,
And I fail miserable to capture
The poetry you breathe out
Your Irish praise me awarded,
Tis now the
Standard and the Curse
This benighted amateur
Must now Prometheus nurse
One day in Dublin, shall we meet,
In a country where poetry is the
Iron in the people's blood
In a particular pub
Opposite we will sit,
You, a cowboy by adoption,
Me, the dastardly banker
You know the pub,
I, with my pint,
You, with your diet coke,
And the only lingua Franca
Shall be darts of poetry
In a language our own,
A collective work we will weave,
A blessed unity, a single tongue now,
Lilting, singing, bespoke
We will let the singer-poet laureate**
Of the island we now share, moderate,
Over his piano man's gin and tonic,
As we do as Yeats instructed:
Between us,
"A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem {but}
a moment's thought,
our stitching and unstinting
has been naught"
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Through her eyes I see her soul,
And the sadness when they roll,
Her nose as black as coal,
Though sweet as a baby foal,
She has teeth like broken china,
And a tongue like a pink recliner,
Her face like a piece of art,
That was crafted from the heart,
She has ears like paper origami,
That could hear a foreign tsunami,
Her neck forms an arch,
Like a piece of twisted larch,
Her brisket is as deep as the sea,
And holds the lock to my key,
Her legs like a vintage chair,
That walks with grace and care,
She has a body built for speed,
When running she takes the lead,
Her heart races like a lambaguini,
Although It might seem quite teeny,
Her muscles tense like a fierce stallion,
Like an athlete ready to win a medallion,
Her body is so aerodynamic,
When she runs she makes the wind panic,
Her tail swooshes from side to side,
As she holds her head in great pride,
Her coat as black as leather,
And as soft as a ducks feather,
It shimmers like a stream,
When the sun makes it gleam,
Her little dashes of white,
Are oh so pure and bright,
Never will I feel of despair,
Cause I know my best friend is there!!!
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
I had hair, lots of it,
And wire rim glasses,
Bells, sandals
And elephant pants
With the Libra sign embroidered
On the back right pocket.
We wore leather wrist bands,
Listened to the cool music,
Knew all the Beatles' lyrics,
Dylan and Snow too.
We never wore peace signs,
Not after seeing Sammy Davis Jr.'s
Pendulous medallion.
We were trenders,
But that wasn't a term then.
Neither was sexagenarian.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Tonight in yoga
While we take corpse pose
And are supposed to empty our bodies and minds
The teacher says:
Listen to the tide of your breath
I think of the beach
The color of mist
And the time I found a
Dead sea otter
As long as myself
And still beautiful
When I open my eyes the walls
Are saffron
And the ceiling is burnt orange
I think of the monks
In the art museum
Who swept their hands
Through a sand medallion
And then released the remains
Into a lake with lilly pads
And when I look out the screen door
I see a racoon, climbing down
After plundering eggs
And I think of the cabin
Where the racoons would eat
The dog food at night
And my brother and I
In footed pajamas
Would hold flashlights and watch them
And as we close shavasana
And sit up
I realize I am the least empty
The least dead
The most beautiful corpse
Apr 14, 2010
Apr 14, 2010 at 6:38 PM UTC
Never forget
There’s an ocean
Around us
Through logic
And reason
Its meaning
Confounds us
Unbound
Although wound up
In threads
And unwoven
Awoken
It speaks in our heads
Yet it tethers
Connects
And continues
To carry
Reminds us
That wisdom
Is simply be wary
Apparent to you
Could to others
Be barren
Yet wearing this
Gallant
Medallion
We earn
Is but shade to the shadow
To which we return
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 3:56 PM UTC
My heart beat’s strong
A medallion, rat-ta-tat-tating tattoo
With the scent of voodoo in the air
Skipping a beat or two
If I am a lingering thought
Let me be the old cookie factory on Columbia
Women in hair nets and aerosoles
And that clinging smell so sweet.
Today is not the end of the story,
But it’s always a good day to die
Parachutes in gym class
Candy man sweet songs
Thinking back I’m golden stars
Recollections and days gone
There is the path I will not walk again
Paved in road **** and litter
These are the things that I have done
The children that I have delivered.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
I remember the setting Carolina sun,
Fluorescent fuchsia medallion
Sitting on the landing strips at RDU, like an observant child
Making sense of our tamed world,
And counting the aluminum birds as they flee to altitudes that
Offer an illusion of freedom.
Fast forward an hour,
Zoom in on seat F, in row 18 on an ascending Boeing 747,
Almost perpendicular to Earth
And my thighs are clenched instinctively, the nervous muscle quivering,
Trying to make its own rhythm against the quaking of the craft.
Irrational fears are countered by irrational ticks.
Will you falter o’ mighty mechanical fowl?
I prayed to the wings that kept me afloat.
Not too high, Icarus, or we’ll all go down –
The pull of hubris becoming a failing harness.
The great bird began its passive decent,
A feather in the breeze.
And my worries were left at
Higher levels,
And the glittering skyline that I had been dreaming of for half of my life
Suddenly becomes near.
I consider reaching my hand through the double-pane Plexiglas oval,
To caress the jagged silhouette as it wears the sun’s dying rays like a stolen diamond ring,
To pinch with the tips of my fingers
An unsuspecting toy car and place it on a highway leading to
Somewhere else.
But time is an avalanche,
Gaining momentum quicker and quicker --
The toy cars become real,
Life-size.
And the people in them are not dolls,
But engineers, junkies, biologists, tourists,
And (soon) me.
And sometimes (only when this town gets tedious
Or the sun is lounging on the horizon,
Taking a hazy summer bath)
I (can’t help but) remember.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
I used to wake up
To the beat of the drums
And the pitter patter
Of solders outside my door
"at ease solder,
we're going to war"
They would say
As we crossed the valley
Green men, green trees
Passing us by
Without many to try
Many would die
Except my brother and I
We would fight the good fight
Even when he was gone
Many months at a time
But one day there came a knock
With many a medallion and a glock
Two men sent my mother into shock
I miss you brother
Though I didn't know
The stars and strips buried with your body
One last mission I sent my men on
To protect your body
With a green man in your hand
Your Purple Heart will glow
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
Millicent hid a rotted tooth with her pretty hand , schemed every whimsical , nervous smile .. St. Patricks medallion hung prominent at the neckline , Millie scribbled in black marker on a company name tag ..
Her back to the building at closing time , an occasional laugh , whispering in a co-workers ear like girls do sometimes , glowing in the realm of a yellow security light .. Locked in brief thought , waiting for her ride home ...
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
Some of our scars join up
Like ink lines on two torn
Parts of a treasure map.
My heart asks hers:
"You wouldn't happen to
Carry the other half of
This medallion?"
Oh, this new love between
Old souls.
We embrace the mortality
Of infatuation, and our flirtations
With Death,
Our ancient, common friend.
Live every day together like we
Did our first one,
Each one apart as if it's the last.
Yes, we'll lose each other.
But let's wait a while,
While my bad heart and your
Cells that always will carry the
Threat of relapse
Save the last,
Beautiful dance for
Each other.
Some of our
Scars line up
Perfectly.
They've taken us
This far, adventurer.
I know your legs aren't tired
Yet.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
mending the snow
has now become knitting white
to frost
as lost kingdoms navigate
from their obscurity -
hosting the hours of our doom
to decades of joy and inertia ...
even as you really love someone
on purpose... you forget
someone.
and all
is come undone !
from a kernel of honey
as ever was.
barking madly at false gods, while -
nipping at the heel of
Unhealing wounds...
all havoc and have at It
where the true wrong
believes You.
a sting of happiness
dashed against the stubborn
fuss of tossed rocks.
the milk of shadow....
clawing at the way you forget
a glowing medallion
of aching wisdom
And henpecked stars Henpecked.
a clutch of hit squad horseshoes, lucky in the dark.
the blue navel of a certain monotony
that jibes with your Apologies...
and a long Pause
A Lost -
Art
Founding the Church
of a Lost
Cause
and every Wednesday in a Box
of course.
hurrah !
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 4:54 AM UTC
Glamorously she walked out of the bedroom
****** feet on the cold wood ****** floor
She looked through the window;
The window which faces nowhere
In her silent look;
She soliloquized 99 questions, but no one heard
Idea captured her imagination; lightening speed
She is enchanted by his silky voice and craftiness
A face for her he invented
Behind it she died, prayed, lived and died
She wore it so graceful
When she died no one knew she had died twice
Though she is dead, she still lives
Though she is dead, she still speaks
A face with feet walking on eerie Elm Street
Browsing through dark alleys in search for a new client
He is a romantic ******
Silently, he has killed all his prey with one shot
A cut through shot to the heart
Fairest daughter of the King;
Arouse not thy love until it so desires
He is too good to be ignored at first sight
She is struggling to control herself
He came here because of her
She is thinking it’s her moment
The voice in her heart; too loud
She can hardly hear her own voice
Shhhhh…
A silence
A flashback
She recollects mom last words on her dead bed
Out of her purse; a portrait picture she pulled
A perfect image of mom’s assailant is on the dance floor
A walk away to the exit door which leads to destiny; eternity
She was not ashamed losing momentary fame
The long silent walk through the side walk;
A victory lap to the podium for a gold medallion
Copyright 2014:GOG|McDaniels Gyamfi
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC