"steadied" poems
Art Bouchard,
My father,
Never marched a drill,
Nor fired an angry shot...
Recounted fond memories
I've heard so many times:
How long ago, when I was very young,
He and our neighbor,
Art Pribnow,
Up before the sun,
Engaged in tractor battles
(Dad was very sure he won).
My father woke those mornings,
Early 1960s,
With the popping cough of
Worn diesel pistons
Clattering out white smoke...
Then blue and black,
As engine heat and friction
Tightened gaps,
Sealed compression,
And the motor steadied into an even roar.
Across the county road
Our only neighbor led or followed suit,
Sending smoke and sound
To drown the morning songs
of meadowlarks and robins.
Fifty years later,
Dad laughed in recollection,
"We started rising just a little
Earlier each day.
Started up our tractors
In a sort of game
Called, 'Who's out first?'"
Six became a quarter of,
Then five-thirty backed to four.
One tractor or the other roared,
Early and then earlier
To be the first to pull
Into the waiting fields.
When three-thirty came around
My mother shook her head,
But if she said a word,
I never heard.
These battling neighbors
Even started engines up
Before they ran,
Milking buckets swinging,
to their barns to chore
As early became earlier
in the little farmers' war.
One day in town,
By happenstance,
A meeting came between the two.
My father, being younger,
Had energy for more,
But old Art Pribnow shook his head,
Grabbed my dad's hand and said,
"Let's stop this foolishness
Before one of us is dead!
I don't know about the hours you keep,
Or what got in our heads,
But I admit, I need my sleep!"
The farmer battle ended then.
A hand shake and a smile
Between two farmer friends,
Created country lore,
Remembered here a little while,
As, "The Early, Earlier War."
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
#021516
I wear a tattered heart today
But God says,
“There’s no such thing as unanswered prayer.”
I was pushed to my limits
And He added,
“There’s no such things as shattered dreams.”
Despite my broken dreams,
The Lord steadied my heart.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
The air was crisp and clean and clear,
The huntsman knew his time had come.
He gathered all equipment and gear.
Then shined and polished his gun.
He took a step, his boots polished black.
To his tiny little wife he blew a kiss back
Off, he was, to capture his prized buck.
She waved goodbye wishing him luck.
He got to his post, stood there and waited.
Patiently, with his traps he had baited.
For a time he remained quiet and still.
This kind of game was his kind of thrill.
Lo and behold, with rage and adrenaline
A perfect opportunity made its rise.
He steadied his rifle, an expert marksman.
He shot the young buck between its eyes.
In a moment it was done
And the huntsman had won.
The poor creature had no chance to fight.
It had fallen to the earth
No cry made it's birth
A silent victim in the night.
Time had come for homebound journey,
With the sun setting on both heads.
Only one of them back with family,
The other became family's dread.
The huntsman took his brand new trophy
And hung high the brown skinned creature.
Hand in hand with his wife he stood boldly
"I was the one to end this ******
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
My sunshine after a stormy day.
My rainbow after a rainy day.
My mirror.
My best friend.
On my darkest day you never left,
you see me through when there's nothing left.
In a brink of loneliness,
you sparkled me with
joy and happiness.
You create a brighter day
on my deepest despair,
never forgetting a perfect
smile to wear.
Oh how I love those curly hair!
Bouncing and dancing
up and down in midnight air!
I could not catch a rainbow or
bring you the moon,
but I promise to be your best friend forever 'till noon.
We will be up talking from dusk to dawn,
this friendship will last
forever we will own.
I will walk with you side by side,
hold your hand with all my might.
In vain I will not leave,
count on it I'm yours to keep.
My dear Anne Christine,
best friend of mine.
Two as one and one define.
There may be times of falling out,
but our friendship will never obliterate nor root out.
As our hairs turn to Grey and
we grow old,
together we will be stronger
eightfold.
And when the time comes that our balanced ride in the waves of life is steadied by His hands,
we will wrap our memories in our hearts and keep them until we meet again above the heaven's sands.
We will welcome each other once again with our arms wide open,
locking in a tight embrace,
and that's when we'll know..
our friendship will be eternal..
- Ella Salvador
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
THERE all the golden codgers lay,
There the silver dew,
And the great water sighed for love,
And the wind sighed too.
Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed
By Oisin on the grass;
There sighed amid his choir of love
Tall pythagoras.
plotinus came and looked about,
The salt-flakes on his breast,
And having stretched and yawned awhile
Lay sighing like the rest.
Straddling each a dolphin's back
And steadied by a fin,
Those Innocents re-live their death,
Their wounds open again.
The ecstatic waters laugh because
Their cries are sweet and strange,
Through their ancestral patterns dance,
And the brute dolphins plunge
Until, in some cliff-sheltered bay
Where wades the choir of love
Proffering its sacred laurel crowns,
They pitch their burdens off.
4.4k
Mamie leaned
against a sitting camel
on the beach
at base camp
outside Tangiers
fiddling with her camera
clothed
in her red two piece
bathing kit
and pink framed
sunglasses
her reddish hair
a mass of curls
looking quite fuckable
as you snapped her picture
with your camera
with the Moroccan guy
looking towards you
thinking maybe the same
holding the rope
leading to the camel
and she said
I wasn’t ready
I was trying to get
my camera set
looking at you
through her darkened lens
holding her camera
in her hands
the Moroccan guy
looking bored
wanting his pay
and to move on
well I’ve got you now
you said
something to gawk at
in my lonely hours
you could have waited
she said
the sun’ll go in a few hours
you joked
ha-ha
she replied
she paid the guy
and left him
and the camel
and walked towards you
her bare feet
left footprints
in the damp yellow sands
the camel stinks
she said
and so does he
she steadied her camera
and walked back a few paces
and said
pose yourself
and so you posed yourself
standing there
in your white tee shirt
and blue jeans
your hair windswept
your features set
in a sun blinded smile
hold it
she said
hold what?
you asked
the pose
she said crossly
just like that
and she snapped the shot
and gazed at you
through the dark lens
of her sunglasses
her small plump ****
wanting to escape
her red bathing top
and the sun still there
in the blue sky
the Moroccan guy gone off
down the beach
the camel following him behind
and you studied Mamie
as she walked back
towards base camp
with love making thoughts
in your sun baked mind.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
We were just lifting weights.
Then she went off to yoga class.
I was doing my reps.
She came back tired and worn out.
I told her to call it a day.
She said she wanted to do more reps with me.
How could I resist her big brown eyes begging me?
It happened while we were doing suicides.
She began to slow down.
I turned to look back at her.
She was on the floor.
I ran to her and turned her on her back.
She was coughing.
She was barely breathing.
I asked her where her inhaler was.
She shook her head and whispered she has lost it.
She began to shake.
Then she fell silent.
I yelled for help.
Forgetting we were in a soundproof gymnasium.
I gave her mouth-to-mouth.
After six tries she woke up.
She steadied her breathing.
She sat up and held onto me.
She said thanks and hugged me.
I picked her up and put her in the car.
Now we are home.
She is laying down.
I am watching over her.
She could have died.
It would have been my fault.
She almost died today.
I couldn't live without her.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
My father,
Who never marched a drill,
Nor fired an angry shot,
Recounts fond memories
I've heard so many times:
How long ago, when I was very young,
He and our neighbor,
Up before the sun,
Engaged in tractor battles
(He's very sure he won).
My father woke those mornings,
Early 1960s,
With the popping cough of
Diesel International tractor cylinders
Clattering out white smoke...
Then blue and black,
As engine heat and friction
Tightened gaps and sealed compression,
And the motor steadied into an even roar.
Across the county road
Our only neighbor led or followed suit,
Sending smoke and sound
To drown the morning songs
of robins and meadowlarks.
Fifty years later,
Dad laughs in recollection,
"We started rising just a little
Earlier each day.
Starting up our tractors
In a sort of game
Called, 'Who's out earliest?'"
Six became a quarter of,
Then five-thirty backed to four.
One tractor or the other roared,
Early and then earlier to pull
Into the waiting fields.
When three-thirty came around
My mother shook her head,
But if she said a word,
I haven't heard.
They even started engines up
Before they ran,
Milking buckets swinging,
to their barns to chore.
As early became earlier
In the little farmers' war.
One day in town,
Entirely by happenstance,
A meeting came between the two.
My father, being younger,
Had energy for more,
But the neighbor shook his head,
Grabbed his hand and said,
"Let's stop this foolishness.
I don't know about you,
But I need my sleep."
The farmer battle ended then.
A hand shake and a smile
Between two farmer friends,
Created country lore,
Remembered here a while,
As "The Early, Earlier War."
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
I stood as still as I could.
Trying to hold in my breath, trying to turn invisible, trying to melt into the wall I steadied myself upon. My heartbeat thumped in my ears drowning out all other sounds.
Were my feet nailed to the floor by fascination? or was it disgust? The knot in my stomach laid no reliable argument to these rushing emotions.
My eyes followed his hands; the way he gripped her hips, the way his fingers traced her jaw. My eyes also followed his lips; how he pressed them almost reverently against the base of her clenched neck.
I watched as he inhaled her scent like he was being squeezed out of breath.
She struggled against his grip. Her eyebrows knit together in an unsightly frown. She halfheartedly pushed him off her weak body. It almost looked like she didn't want to resist, but her pride pulled her away from yielding. She was shaking, her form disheveled, yet it wouldn't sway him.
I felt a stinging in my eyes, that all familiar burning I experienced when I felt that twinge of paranoia. That burning paranoia that plagues me now, as my worst fears are embodied.
How could she easily dismiss him like that?
When I lay nights awake craving his skin, his breath, his words.
I have spiraled out of view, just a faceless backdrop in his hopeless love story.
How could a person hate and love so much at the same time?
It just goes to show that the world doesn't work that way, it works to crush you. All these emotions spurt out at once, as a lesson for all the lucky fools watching you.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Morning is a burnt thing
that wrings the dark from my dress,
a lilting blue on the lawn,
in that twilight, so heavy
with lures and the tiniest snails
leave ochre splinters in my palms,
a scar, where you wrote in my book,
the blood part of ruined pages, bone white
and virulent, you raise the urge to render
my wrists more fragile,
more fragile than this,
a restlessness as black as a raven
drifts through bits of paper, stray wings
come to worship the hour, vanishing
between nine and ten, Winter
is a tenderness as transparent as silk,
as fragile as poppies,
its ruthless baptism upon my body
filling with snow, my skin shimmers
like dusk, like wings
all night you held me,
steadied my heart in the heavy wind,
even when the wildflowers had sown
themselves into the shape of a grave,
the garden overgrown, my body
from a bone, and my soul
out of nothing, opening,
opening for yours,
I am sure, god has failed me,
and longing is just the heart
changing colors, all its chambers, churning
the slowly spoiling hour, all night
I ribbon and tendril,
as you make a cage of your fingers to keep out the light,
shut the latches of this cell,
shut your eyes, my lover,
for I am frayed, my belly blood dark
and grey, where it is all wearing at the ends,
a little gin poured upon the open sore
of this ache, as I am caged in glass,
shackled at my wrists, like pink clusters of wisteria (oh, pink)
upon the secret places of our skin,
fingertips press against me like a bell,
beneath the swell of *******
I keep the debris,
my poems to you are small,
quartered and hidden beneath the floorboards
of this room, the bed, the glass,
the pink (oh pink) wisteria in bloom,
morning, is a burnt thing,
spoiled like a jail of brick and mortar,
where I live on licorice,
and on the palest underside of the wrists,
the half beat,
I dont think, I have ever loved so gently,
in silence, unexpected,
midnight spooled in a clavicle,
for my skeleton is a fossil
you will find every night
in your flesh,
and my faith lies
in that single thing left
to us, a smoldering filigree of sorrow,
shaped like a moth,
and morning is our burning....
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Steps these beginning steeps unavoidable the stains of water and mud clearly from Noah’s flood
Seeds crushed into the cracks from earliest civilization fiery ones left black shadows on the walls
Faint touches of red as clear as rubies square holes like those used in crucifixion could it be his blood
Beyond earths plain the steps are blocks of diamond burnished by the glory that brushed over them
Spirals that know no parallel in earthen design etched loves burning flame scenes of two worlds intact
The rise and fall of battles waged evil repelled the cost by sacrifice unto death they tread these steps too
From parapets of stone their souls ever bold made their way and vulcanized the heights adding impact
God called legions they left behind the puny Himalayas uncharted stars they pass still the steps rise
Rend me wool to hang among celestial worlds the maidens can weave this from mountain doll sheep
It will drape this spiral in great detail masters will add the flaming achievements a banner of honor to all
Hard places of the wall softened by showing perilous dangers overcame through eyes so fond that weep
Not one single foot will be lifted on this way who knows not the way of sorrow and pain only by this gain
The winds would tear you loose as you climb to those terrible heights the hands are steadied by might
Keep up the pace ever mindful of the race yours is not a level one but a crested one of brightest morn
The long days are fading all are nearing following those who from their climb know joy of almost flight
Look down look up these tiers look no stronger than thinnest silk not so this is an unbreakable ancestral chain your forbears forged that leads to heaven your place is add to this living chain
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
I want to be wrapped in soft shades
of shimmering blue
celestial greens
deep, dark violet hues
I want to be
held firm and steadied
yet rocked by chisled grace
I want my inner light
to flow right over,
beaming all over the place
I want to be strummed
until
the tunes reach ethereal notes
crescendo or staccato
whatever makes time float
I want magic in my palms
as I cup your gentle face
I want to get electric
inside your firm embrace
I want to feel ***********
when your eyes are on my soul
I want to feel that tension
build up and juice my flow
Yes.
I am ready for connection
ready for oceans to break down walls
No longer afraid of waiting
Bring it on!
I want it all
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
Hacked
Every hook
Every cue
Every one of my references and internal pantheon
He's wired into it.
How did that happen?
He's a stranger
I didn't even know he existed two weeks ago
And yet...
He gets it so right every time.
~~
self referential
I like it when he writes of me. To me.
That curly feeling.
His revelations, and the mirror held up.
Tribute, affection, the wry smile of a stranger.
The slightly bonkers obsession and fascination.
Glimpses of a convoluted mind.
~~
Rib Ice
Standing on thin ice
Peacoat open, arms wide
I step into that hug
Burned by warm skin and hard ribs
Even more by his kiss
He likes to hear me moan
~~
Whose mindfuck now?
Are my actions consistent with my words?
Am I as I say I am?
Do I mean what I say, or am I playing you?
How's your ******** detector?
cards on the table time
abdicate or defecate
ante up
~~
headlong
He leads me on a scavenger hunt, insinuating, enticing, pulling me into dark corners to kiss me and probe me intimately, until we're off to cross the next threshold in this trip...
I have no idea how I got here. Turned round, disoriented, down the rabbit hole.
~~
Deep Purple
On the way out
Curious discoveries
Door handle sticky
Musk in the air
Who's that knocking at my back door?
~~
Goddess, lit
I like this intimate touch I have on your mind and emotions. It makes me feel powerful and protective of you. And pulls me closer in.
When you say I am a goddess, your goddess, I suspend disbelief and nod in acknowledgment and agreement. Yes, of course. In those times, I know I am powerful, wise, feminine, and mysterious, And that you are before me, kneeling, clasping my legs, leaning on me, head against hip and belly, worshipful.
And sometimes, you clasp my wrist as I'm turning to go and pull me back, quietly certain and not to be resisted. Inevitable. And then what? Kisses? Your hand on my breast bone? Gently steadied to meet your gaze, interminably and for no time at all?
I begin to believe you won't vanish.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
History forgets violence, cold-
blooded, the extinguishment,
and if not, the raw,
steadied torture.
This tenderness
rose from a river of blood.
Flowers in the garden,
wafting for no particular reason,
except a calling for bees.
Beauty I pick up on,
beauty like a sunset in the field,
blooming poppies,
just another revolution,
a day on Earth.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
There were tales told of mighty storms that oft battered this coast.
The howling gale that struck this night was more powerful than most,
The lifeboat crews had been stood down, Who would venture out in this?
They gratefully all headed home for a night of fireside bliss
A girl stood on a towering cliff her heart was filled with dread
Somewhere in that maelstrom was the one that she would wed
The sun had shone when he’d left home before a steady breeze
A day so full of promise, but nature gives no guarantees
This normally astute sailor did not see the sky turn grey
His mind was on the woman, tomorrow their wedding day.
He was dragged back to the present by the sudden icy rain
The boat steadied, then surged forward, a ****** at the helm again
He quickly trimmed and set his sails to run before the gale
The speeding boat fighting gamely under the minimum of sail
Ten miles out man and boat still face the wrathful sea
With storm jib filled, and main full reefed he raced towards his bride to be
The man can see the lights of home, he’s just five miles from shore
With a fearsome ‘Crack’ the hull was split. Man and boat could do no more
Standing on the lonely cliff the girl sees his boat go under
She screams her pain into the night as her heart is ripped asunder
She takes a slow step forward towards the cliff edge high and sheer
Facing a life without her lover the drop can cause no fear
Her other foot moves forward, She is on the final ledge
Another tearful shuffle forward has her on the very edge
One more step. Into the void and she plummets like a stone
The sea has claimed her loved one but he shall not lie alone
As a wave approaches the stony cliff it draws a watery breath
Before crashing, straining, weeping falling above the lovers joined in death
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 12:49 AM UTC
~
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander…head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out Chuck Taylors,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints ~ blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water.”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground
taking it where it would suit another ~ for this is my luck
“Take my shade a beg not, for it is merely a branch.”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies
featuring a glow, pristine shades of which I’ve never seen ~ heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, as my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus, a beauty of winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand…to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder ~ is this my end
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly.”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime,
*“I have come to you as a verse...for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,”* lyrically she sings
melodic and harmonious, rhythm’d to the beat of my heart
the race of my pulse, the love of my life ~ my muse
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen.”
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Poor reaction:
Stipulated by thumbs and notions to excel
Steadied eyes, that keep aims harboring sense?
Of quiet, that looked hard for us, to wish in hell...
Left, do we remember a tears cause?
With the language of frozen thoughts?
Many and metered loyalty's, laws?
That took the obvious to oblivion, for what mocks?
Pyres or piety
The tale I tell, is for the coming and the done
****** to rights, the toil we adjust, we show anxiety...
Is a legend in its own right, risen from the curse, we own
Liberty, is an expensive friend, come to tell us a fortune
Of dignity and callous vice, to share a kept dream of avarice's fit
And final lip of sincerity, that knows where you have been
Acted upon like a thief in the sight, of another, and in whit:
We are that we are...
The poise of destiny to a frightful mind, that keeps charisma
Like a treasure of deliberate calm, when we know passion afar
And ready to strike, nothing but a conversation that is a proven same, somehow sad...
But hating the very roots of opinion, for an art?
Of redoubt in the temptation of cope, to witness a shyness
Forth a remaining tooth of drama and lowly starts
Of nothing at all, but the richness of causes, we have seen come to bless...
Feb 5, 2023
Feb 5, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
Caught by poverty, swinging on its hook
like a fish. Down in the mouth was he
so his relatives fled, friends him forsook:
Lingering nights of unchanged story;
Pining in the grips of paucity.
Ha, he was a forgotten being--
despised and belittled by everybody!
Poorness is a brutal burden and yoke
upon the shoulders of life. It's no joke.
Lack is a wretched beast
and want a miserable guest.
Better to dwell with a mouse!
But heaven's eyes are full of mercy,
wherefore he was visited suddenly.
For the Ark of God into his house
ere long, by Grace's hand, was taken
by David, when with fear he's stricken--
lest like Uzzah he be by and by killed,
who, looking at the Ark tilting, It steadied.
And the Object of dread and horror--
within three months of stay--for the king,
became the Bringer of blessing and favour
to the habitation of Obed-edom,
making his name for eternity to ring
a bell of honour in human kingdom.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Once upon a time
in the Great Hall
of the Metropolitan Museum,
my woman wan~pale,
doozy, woozy, about to grace
the floor marble, with an
undesirably inelegant fall.
Steadied her, a quick diagnose,
Low Blood Sugar + Dehydration,
her condition I pronounced.
The antidote in my possession!
From my pocket left,
withdrew my emergency tangerine.
She looked, quizzically, upon me,
even a bit weirdly,
marveling and marvelous,
as I fed her bite-sized orange curvatures.
*Who walks around with a
tangerine in their coat pocket?*
I replied, doesn't everyone?
besides, that juicy tangerine looked
mighty good, so I took from
pocket right, another one,
laughingly, which we shared.
Henceforth she has called me,
a partial mocking homage to a former actor,
who should have stayed that way,
the one who was thinking you can always start over,
The Anticipator.
If you ask me what is the secret
to keeping love alive, my answer permanent.
Get thee a coat of many pockets,
like the one Joseph had,
fill them up with with the things
that will shelter her from the storm...^
No longer the season of the tangerine,
In my pocket in the fall,
a Fuji apple and a box of
raisin~poems
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
By T. A. Beale
I was working my garden on a warms summers day,
When a robin flew by, from across the way,
His wings tipped with silver, black brows over his eyes,
His robins red breast, you might have guessed,
but upon his cheek, a dark mark he could not disguise,
I laughed and I smiled as I cried aloud,
"Tis brave Robin Black-Cheek, a bird most renowned!"
He bowed and sang, “Good day to you sir! My chicks need a feeding!"
I nodded and said, "There's food underground, just follow around while I do
the weeding!"
So we set to work, and into each hole that I dug,
Mr Robin flew, and emerged bearing worms or a fat wriggling bug!
Time after time, with a beak full of grubs he'd return to his nest,
As the day grew long, I could not go on, I lay down my shovel, I needed a
rest!
Mr Black-Cheek hopped on my boot, and danced an impatient jig,
He looked at me and sang, "My chicks are still hungry! Why won't you dig?"
"Rest a while, lets take a moment to speak, tell me how you got that black scar on your
cheek!"
"Very well. But I warn you now, 'tis not a tale for the meek!”
I was guarding my garden when a rogue robin rival reproached me and said,
"I shall end your life, then take your wife, she will thank me when you're
dead!"
I swooped down to meet him, I perched on the fence,
I puffed my red breast and angrily sang, “Let battle commence!”
The scoundrel soared up, beak shining like steel in the sunlight, and he sliced my cheek!
Staggered and stunned I spun round, but soon I steadied, stood straight and showed my beak!
“T'was but a slight!” I swung at him, and continued the fight!
We ****** and we pecked, we riposte and we parried,
“Leave while you can! Too long have you tarried!”
We flew and we dashed, and in mid-air we clashed,
In a flurry of feathers we fought, a final fell blow and the foul fiend was fallen,
I sang with glee; for he was forced to flee!
I returned to my tree, now no one would dare challenge me!
He bowed again once his tale was told,
“Now dig me more grubs, afore this day grows old!”
I gladly obliged, for I'd made a new friend,
and we worked all day, until the end.
© Thomas A. Beale
2015
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
I stood flickering
momentary memories
disappearing.
skimming rapidly, then-
smashing with the wind
wobbling
the whole world hanging on a cliff.
as the crevice parted below
then
once
steadied
rising, I stood.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 12:48 PM UTC
Under the watchful gaze of two suns
I lean in to kiss your dry lips.
Technicolor fissures in Space -
hold onto me
every different lifetime
leads me back to you and comes
circle - The Earth
tips like the time
you spilled cardamom in the *** brownies
making love sour for a week
We made sense sometimes;
even in this parallel universe - where moons
kiss and galaxies weep -
We burned into the heart, moments inverse
and our souls steadied the pace.
Dripping stardust and covered in Love-
it's understood. We are never apart -
Always One.
But I bait my breath each time I'm born
letting go only - when I hold your hand
again.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
even though i don't understand,
i've watched him love you hard.
i've felt Olympus shake and i've
created supernovas on his behalf,
steadied my arrows and called out to my galaxies-
but, consistently, he quells me quiet and it's always then that i see it-
the warrior he is demands he doesn't give up on a battle
and Ares has been chasing Aphrodite too long to set a better example and i
hate to say it
but it's alarmingly beautiful.
father may have made a star,
but that lionheart made you a sun.
i have long preached that perfection takes time,
that my mother has a love so pure and perfect set aside for her,
but her heart caught on you.
war is love and love is war -
she has weathered battles in your name and each time i try to end the fight,
lay the final blow
she quiets my furies
with a hand on my chest and music in my ears.
Apollo has been chasing dawn too long to teach the lesson of patience,
but you were her dawn and mornings aren't the same, anymore.
she sings songs of you at daybreak
and i hum songs of war.
she pretends she isn't missing her star.
i try not to miss the sun.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
Dignified, sturdy, solid
In all it's equine glory
The fact Mike tried to ride it
Is quite another story
Mike was set to ride the steed
Down the beach to have his lunch
When the horse grabbed Mike's shirt
And then proceeded to just munch
The horse stood nearly 16 hands
Poor Mike stood five foot two
The horse looked down upon him
Most tall children looked down too
Mike steadied it to get aboard
From the left side as he should
He got up and grabbed the bridle
All was seeming pretty good
Mike leaned down to pat it
Lost his grip and tumbled down
The horse just didn't notice
And he peed upon the ground
Mike got up and mounted
Once again upon the steed
He bucked up once and threw him
Mike thought he must be off his feed
The troop of trail ride horses
Made their way along the beach
Mikes horse went on riderless
It was now far out of reach
Mike went back to the hotel desk
Called a cab to beat them all
He was not to be outdone
Just because he'd taken one small fall
He met them at the barbeque
The horses stood out in the field
Mike would eat his lunch and then
He'd make this **** horse yield
He came with a nice apple
and some sugar as a treat
The horse just looked down at him
And stamped on both his feet
While Mike just stood there steaming
The horse ran like a shot
The others were all mounted
And poor Mike's horse was not
It joined up with the others
Leaving Mike away in back
So, he phoned once more for a taxi
And formed a new attack
He was **** bound and determined
To get upon this horse
If not to go out riding
But for a picture, why of course..
He met them at the hotel field
To get his picture just for pride
It didn't matter to him now
That he never got to ride
He'd show the photo to his friends
Of the horse he rode around
Never telling him of his great fall
And how the horse tossed him to the ground
The fact he never rode it
Mike now considered moot
For the horse stood for the photo
And then pooped in Mike's left boot
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC