"sandblasted" poems
It was a dissonant melody that made the lonesome mole weep from his blind eyes
and there were mascara stains on the face of a pensive ********** lady in the streetlights
When the orchestral waves wound up at the shores of a sandblasted city
the denizens were too afraid to speak out against tyranny, and they died
Wistful wonderment in the souls of the children as they walk hand in hand
and experience the crumbling of wonton rocks in the skies of their homeland
A celestial boom, droning on the streets, and the women are beat
Are you outraged yet?
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Sandblasted
red, octagonal glass
dangling from black twine
a gift from you,
long gone,
that is mine
and I cherish it
more than
my dwindling stack
of cash,
more than my beat up car,
more than my only
guitar,
more than my
favorite scars,
because it was
crafted by your hands,
since turned to ash
and spread out over the rocks
and valleys,
I love you still
Eddie
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
*Weathered oak of ancient age
Sandblasted by Sirocco storm
Ribbed and dry and redly sage
Deep corrugated graining, worn.
Grown on hillside far away
Far, in England’s verdant land,
Hewn by artisan of old
Hewn by axe and sinewed hand.
Hauled across a raging sea
By barque of seaman’s sail and hope,
Washed by salted wave and gale
Lashed to deck by weathered rope.
Dragged across hot dunes of sand
To a land called Galilee,
Hauled by He, betrayed by man,
Upon the hill of Calvary.
Hoisted high by Roman hand
Stark against a leaden sky,
Red blood stains on oaken cross
On which His Crown of Thorns shall cry.*
M.
Easter Sunday 2014
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
It was one of those bad weather days
You know the stormy, flying monkey type
Where you end up chasing garbage cans
And watching the world wash down the pipe
The trees were whipping everywhere
Dropping branches, clipping wires
They were also downing hydro poles
Cutting power, starting fires
The rain ripped like small razors
The hail sandblasted exposed skin
The sewers swallowed slowly
They could not let the rain come in
My windows shook like aspic
Distorting all I saw outside
My house was all in darkness
Time to hunker for the ride
The clouds moved like a time delay
Three days compressed all into one
They circled and came back again
They blocked out all hope of sun
I thought of Margaret Hamilton
Flying above the world of Oz
It was just a random thought I had
Just an image, just because
My yard was now a shallow lake
The ground could not absorb the rain
It would break for a few minutes
Gather up and start again
Each storm it seems is harsher
Than the last one to come through
I have even thought that I should
Gather animals in pairs of two
At the end of every rain storm
I was taught to look and find
A rainbow in the distance
A light diffraction in my mind
I went to my front window
Looked and saw one in the sky
At the end there'd be a leprachaun
with gold a mile high
I watched the news that evening
saw the damage that was made
And at the end of my storms rainbow
They showed a PRIDE parade.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
He lay in the bed
I had made for him,
emaciated, brittle;
the only part of him
truly alive,
more alive than anyone
else around:
his eyes.
His wife sits next to him;
serene, accepting, aglow
with his reflected light.
He fixed his gaze upon me
as he grasped my hand
with uncommon strength.
"I saw last night", and
gripped even tighter.
"I saw peace, and great light."
His arm shook, willing
his vision into my flesh.
"I saw, and was scoured clean.
I was purified!"
His hand fell limply,
and his head dropped back
on the pillow.
"I'm so glad I got to tell you...
I believed you would understand."
I believe you...
I understood what you saw...
and I bless your sandblasted soul.
The rust and grime
of a lifetime
weigh upon my spirit;
please pray with me
to your light
when the time comes.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 4:42 PM UTC
Windswept into sandblasted
Stripping naked and exhilarating freedom
to be able to bend and bend again
The key to surviving and flourishing
When the great battle subsides
all that's left is the basics and a will to live
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
*i am a renegade rooster
confused by their programming
so many offspring how are we to tell
which is our own and which belongs to another
was it our forefather's fermentation
or the density of transubstantiation
entities dance on liberal paint cans
sandblasted fragments of remaining still
the handstands advanced their own itineraries
and i wonder what literary blunders did you muster today
existential snails dive as deep as whales
and move as swift as Haley’s twin sister Taylor*
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 11:20 AM UTC