"redressing" poems
Disdain for
Traditional forms,
A sense of
Detached irony,
Self-reflexivity,
Expressed as a
Flagrant,
Meta-textual
Awareness,
adventurous
typography,
that defies
the common
relational schemes
between text
and margin
The juxtaposition
Of words
Governed by
Syllabic content,
and
freed
from
the
burden
of
syntactical
strictures
Meanings
Changed
Through
Inversion
(now read it upside down)
*
the
poem
recites
itself*
Paralyzed truth
Mimics brave fear,
Abdicating censure, and
Redressing allusion,
Liberation
abounds
in the trough
of a sine wave
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
Existential ache,
Visceral and immediate
Occludes all reason,
A fated Solitude.
The myth of dearth,
In prose retold
Retaining fictive resolve,
Tacitly confessed.
Ineluctable Torpor
Petitions my
Ardent supplications.
Present,
Beckoned in the dulcet
Confluence —
Beauty and affliction
Freshets of silence,
Redressing the fallow
Surface of my soul.
© 2016 W. S. Warner
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
Nurses bursaries scrapped
Wages capped
Students unpaid, betrayed
By a stratified social system
That ***** on the helpless and the selfless
"Gratitude" is expressed
Not by redressing the balance
But with a clap
Followed by a stab in the back:
Oh, snap.
We're sick of your hollow applause: pause
Rewind your mind three years
To when you jeered
And blocked their cause with a cheer:
Tell me, is your conscience clear?
And when we think
You can't sink any lower
You throw a fresh blow:
Increase front line pay
But decline the same for our warriors in blue
Who saved your **** neck on that ICU
And the saddest part
Of this sorry story, Tory
Is we're outraged and dismayed
At the disdain you've displayed
But amazed? No.
Your track record is traceable
Applause a mere mask
Tasked with shielding years of austerity
That's crippled our NHS
With alarming prosperity
This proverbial middle finger
Will linger
In the memories of those who chose
A career of care
Over privilege and flair
Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 4:04 PM UTC
New born babies apparently spend most
Of their time doing nothing ,just being
Their parents on the other hand are likely
To be in a mad whirlwind of non-stop doing
Most of us only go into Being mode on holiday
It usually takes a few days for us to wind down
We hardly ever have the time to just be ourselves
Mindfulness is a way of redressing the imbalance
You can gently retrain your mind to accept just Being
Your mind needs to rest as well as work ,try just being
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
O rain, tear-like drops of almighty nature
whenever you come falling down
the earth tries to soak up the moisture
as if it were all willing to drown.
In times of need you are a blessing
and all the land cries out for thee
to restore life that you’re possessing
helping to grow fruit as on a tree.
The sun can not really have it all its own way
and hides behind clouds with you in store
although its light is dimmed part or all of the day
what you have to give then is required more.
The waters of life that fall down with a shower
and flow through the land in many streams
have the grace to transform a seed into a flower
whose nectar bees gather and health esteems.
It’s only when you overflow your boundary
and come falling down as if in a rage
you do more harm than good being contrary
to what is expected and don’t assuage.
With your two associates the lightning and thunder
and your other cohort the wind blowing strong
you try to subdue or intimidate everything thereunder
by wreaking havoc as if redressing some wrong.
It’s very fortunate for us that this doesn’t happen too often
and despite all the things which go on each day
I notice the ground, air and the minds of people do soften
after having come and gone and spent your play.
O rain, you are only just one of the forces of almighty nature
and if employed in season or need can draw no blood
but deployed haphazardly will bring down any proud stature
sweeping away all before you when rushing in a flood.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
Fell so down I have
But the ground never showed itself.
Waiting for it,
Demanding it,
Lusting for it.
How down could I had fell?
Such a foolish thing to think of...
The pride just slapped me
"Your shalt never touch the ground" it shouts.
"Nothing deserves anything but you. Who lied to you to go so down?"
"There you might sacrifice your sorry *** for the sake of love, principle or an idea."
"But from down there you are nothing."
And it was right.
Nothing but my dramatic **** brought me here.
So, now what?
Let's just laugh!
A war of redressing starts with a good laugh.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
living in places with no real faces
nothing but the pavement and similar races
houses cloud the judgment and create such a facade
that no one man can see straight at what glares obviously
at how this town really is
living in places with picket fences and fake smiles
nothing but the pavement and the smell of lawns waning
houses cloud what really lies underneath all these people
that they are all broken china dolls
living in places that are pieced together by the backbone
nothing but pavement and sweat trying to impress
houses cloud opinions making them constantly redress
tired of redressing i live with a plan to strive away from this place.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
(i only dream of imps)
sweaty, high-handed, they reek of brandy
although i know what they desire i bury my fists in stiff pockets
all the simple things i believe to be made up of are really technicolor and abstruse
(i only dream of this)
every night they spit viruses down my throat
bite jibes in my deepest cushiony parts
chew gold rings like stale cheerios
swathing me
in sticky mud-like paint
thin and sour
(i only dream of hell)
grafted unholiness in pits of ink
tumultuous
sore heat seething from flowery bits
greedy imp hands handling soft pillow bodies
acid breath inflating pink fleshy lungs like round dollar store balloons
(i rarely dream of clouds)
when i do they are rotting clumps of loose soil
left untended by my perverse imps
holding petals to their fever pitted cores
redressing me in noxious defamation
(i'll dream again soon)
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
This being the time of the shrivelling
colour change and discard
for trees bedding down for hibernation
and Man shedding and redressing in
thicker clothing. Spinning away
from the Sun in crazy abandon
like Whirling Dervishes lost in the dance.
The footfall of folk quickening as they walk
familiar pathways in ever dimming light.
We can smell the times are here for lighting
fires and for cold on the skin like plucked
chicken, to ***** us into acceptance of
the coming of Winter, once again arriving
on our doorsteps .
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC