"swung" poems
I,
a colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
Would like you,
a colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
To accept, some of my
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
To join some of your
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
to create a completely separate
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
and as our
colonies of 37 trillion cooperating cells
cooperate less and less, our new
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
shall be looking for a
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
to repeat what countless
colonies of 37 trillion cooperating cells
have done since we swung in the trees.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Hi there.
Sometimes it hurts to think.
I'm driving around in my hometown
I saw this old park that me and my friends would run and laugh and play at all the time.
We played cops and robbers
Lava Monster
Freeze tag
We acted like knights in strong armor and princesses with glittery dresses and we all slayed the dragons
Well now here I am staring at this old swing set that no one swings on anymore.
I used to think that I could touch the clouds with my feet if I swung high enough.
There is something so lively about a group of kids laughing and playing on a playground.
There is something so eerie about an old empty playground where no one goes.
That playground used to be so alive.
Now the swing creaks as it sways in the slight breeze.
You can almost hear faint whispers of the kids laughing from years before.
Now all those kids are adults with lives and responsibilities that are much more important than slaying a dragon.
The wood has splinters that get stuck in your fingers.
It is not shiny and fun anymore.
It used to be new
But I have found that everything changes eventually.
I wish people didn't leave so unexpectedly.
Anyways I am just rambling
but next time you see a playground
just try to look away.
it hurts to think too long
Bye.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC
When you plunged
The light of Tuscany wavered
And swung through the pool
From top to bottom.
I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,
Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders
Surfacing and surfacing again
This year and every year since.
I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.
You were beyond me.
The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air
Thinned and disappointed.
Thank God for the slow loadening,
When I hold you now
We are close and deep
As the atmosphere on water.
My two hands are plumbed water.
You are my palpable, lithe
Otter of memory
In the pool of the moment,
Turning to swim on your back,
Each silent, thigh-shaking kick
Re-tilting the light,
Heaving the cool at your neck.
And suddenly you're out,
Back again, intent as ever,
Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,
Printing the stones.
25.6k
Two young boys in corduroys
were playing with a ball.
Two young boys heard one strange noise,
coming from the hall.
The boys stood still, well, still until
the door swung open wide.
And a ghostly chill and a real ghost, Bill,
were heaved the heck inside.
The brave boy stood, as the brave boy would,
and said, "Hey, listen Bill!
We're here to hear you, not to fear you.
Tell us what you will."
The other boy wheezed and sneezed then seized
and vomited on the floor.
He shook his brain. He felt insane.
Nothing was real anymore.
"Ghosts are real?! They're ******* real?!?!?!"
he cried and shook and feared.
For nature's laws were gone because
a ghost had just appeared.
And on that night of fear and fright,
the brave boy had his thrills.
And the other one was ******* done
and swallowed fifty pills.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
*I was a princess.
Long before the burden of knowledge --
before the reality of life plunged itself deep into me.
Tea parties and *****
Gowns and pretty jewels,
Braids and long lashes,
We were the rulers of the kingdom.
Walls constructed of plastic kept us safe,
security from the barbarians that lurked outside.
A magic mirror that warped and bent from age,
from magic, to show your future,
which was often a short fat lady.
Thrones that swung back and forth,
so that her majesty does not bore herself.
We guarded our kingdom from the evil outside...
but we forgot to check within our walls.
At some age, we stopped guarding the plastic kingdom.
We stopped looking for the monsters outside --
realizing they were lurking inside of us...
whispering dark things.
Now Aurora is sleeping off a hangover --
that beautiful face streaked with wet mascara
maybe when she wakes up, everything will be better?
Ella is hiding from loan sharks,
wishing for a way out of the slums,
hoping a rich man will sweep her off her feet.
Ariel is running away from home
changing her identity for her new boyfriend,
desperate that no one will come between them.
Snow is sleeping with several men --
mommy issues ran her out of town,
now she's the walking herself to the abortion clinic.
Princesses we were.
Princesses we are.
Princesses we will be.*
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
The sky crackles and I feel the most alone.
Just like that day in the woods.
My special place was off the trail, but he couldn't have known me,
I was so young and such an idiot,
Not everyone is genuine but I was so trusting,
I can still smell the sickening mixture of fresh-fallen rain,his sweat, the mud around the creek and salt from my tears.
With every atmospheric collision from the sky
my stomach churns tasting the blood in my mouth from his fist thundering against my tear stained cheeks.
When the wind blows
I can still feel his callous hands bruising and exploring my unwilling body, and scraping against
the most intimate parts of me.
The lightning is when I remember the rock that found my desperate palms and crashing against his temple
The wind howls and the rain finally starts to fall then, near my belly button burns just like it did when the blade he swung wildly cut me before I could run and the water is my heartbeat pounding in my ears,
but I can hear him behind me
The rush If my blood reminding me I’m still alive mind begging me to stay that way, his threats pushing me further
Head pounding ,body burning,
I burst through my front door
And then I start to cry
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
Blank mind, cloudy vision
the satisfying crack of collision
from an elbow swung, or punch thrown
and in my ears, a buzzing drone
I breath deeply, and start to think
of how I was pushed, to the brink
I really do regret it now
I'd fix it but, I don't know how
But it feels so good, at the time
but the mind doing it, isn't mine
It's not the nice sweet child
with polite voice, and manners mild
But which am I and which is me?
Which one of those am I going to be?
The child, who's weak yet nice?
Or the monster, nobody crosses twice?
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
T'was the night before Christmas
And with everything done
The kids were all dreaming
Of Christmas Day fun
The tree was completed
We had wrapped all the toys
When from the basement below
We heard a faint noise
I sprung from the couch
Took off down the stairs
On my way through the kitchen
I tripped on two chairs
I slid down the staircase
To the base of my house
And there with my shortbreads
Was a ****** great mouse
My wife followed close
And then she let out a shriek
She saw me and the mouse
And she started to freak
He nibbled the cookie
and he ran past my nose
right down my torso
Then he stopped at my toes
My wife was still screaming
The mouse didn't care
He continued his running
On under the stairs
I crawled to my workshop
Grabbed the first thing I found
A mallet for pounding
That mouse in the ground
I limped to the staircase
And I swung at the wall
I again lost my balance
And again, I did fall
I put two holes in the riser
Two more in the tread
I was gonna keep swinging
Till that mouse was dead
I broke the one lightbulb
That lit up the room
Now I was worried
I couldn't see...found the broom
I stepped on one end
Squared my self in the sack
I then heard a noise
The mouse had come back
I heard his slight skitter
As he went past my feet
He was off to the larder
For more stuff to eat
I went back to the workshop
Tripping at least three more times
I would finish this mouse
He would pay for his crimes
I grabbed for a lighter
And my large propane torch
I would hunt down this mouse
And his **** I would scorch
I lit up the propane
And I aimed at the stairs
It caught light on the carpet
And I burnt both those chairs
The flames went on upward
The stairs were quite dry
I laughed in hysterics
That **** mouse would fry
My wife had recovered
And decided to run
but, after seeing the flames
She phoned up 9 1 1
The mouse left the building
In fact, he never was found
The house burned in seconds
It collapsed to the ground
And through the whole scene
I just stood there and laughed
At the wreckage before me
And I thought, **** I'm daft
I had ruined our Christmas
And I burned down our house
Over a **** shortbread cookie
And one little mouse
The kids, they got out
And were wrapped up and warm
While I was creating
My own perfect storm
The gifts were all ruined
The house ...all consumed
And over my head
One large question loomed
If I had gone for the shotgun
And shot at the mouse
Would I be still having Christmas
And would I still have a house
My wife came on over
And she gave me a swat
She said "look what you've done"
"you great stupid ****
I learned a great lesson
and folks ...it is that
Once I rebuild
I will then buy a cat!!!
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Arriving at the entrance of the ancient temple the white rabbit covered his ears. Shattering glass from a high-pitched vibration he leaped away from a falling chandelier.
“I must find our beloved Harvest Moon."
The white rabbit said to himself. With stern affirmation, a dark fog churned then into the vortex he was consumed.
He stopped at the entrance of the temple courtyard; everyone was frozen like statues.
"What has she done to all of you?"
He cried, then pulled out a magic rune deflecting a hail of daggers. The white rabbit looked up at a floating cocoon and saw the shadow witch hovering over the temple roof. Pale skin and veins glowing red, she was draped in a black tattered robe. With a sinister look and a Crown of Fire on her head the shadow witch spoke.
“White rabbit, white rabbit the Harvest Moon is dead!"
The white rabbit took leaped back then cried out.
"This cannot be so!"
Then he pulled from his bag a magic scroll and read the words written in gold.
"I ask the wind to protect me from this dark magic despair"
Then he conjured a circle of trees in a water globe. The witch streaked across the air and swung around her jet-black hair. Then she commanded an infestation of spiders to climb inside the trees and explode. Barricading himself inside a magic bubble he was protected from the onslaught of shrapnel. The white rabbit grabbed the water globe, leaped into the air, and disappeared in a puff of amber smoke. The shadow witch pulled out a blood-red pearl and murmured an incantation.
"Clever white rabbit, I shall find you in the invisible world"
The white rabbit snapped his fingers then magically appeared behind her. He snatched off the Crown of Fire from her head then whispered the following words.
"How dare you use dark magic on me!"
She jumped in fear spinning around, then summoned a devil hound. The white rabbit raised the water globe and merged it with the crown. A shock wave of light pulsated in the air then the witch menacingly yelled.
“Take him down!”
The white rabbit saw in his peripheral view the hound lunge to attack. But he was too cunning for this, with a symbolic wave and a vigorous slash the hound was severed in two.
The shadow witch glared, then cried out.
“We shall meet again white rabbit; I promise you I'll be back!”
Then she summoned a fiery cauldron and vanished with a blinding flash.
The white rabbit ran inside the temple and approached the Harvest Moon. He stared with eyes full of tears and sorrow at a beautiful princess with hair long and blue. A beautiful creature he so desired, the love he had for her was true. He opened his bag and pulled out the globe which was now encased with the Crown of Fire.
"I brought you a gift from the shadow witch"
Then he smashed the globe and with a flash of light, the Crown of Fire was finally free. The white rabbit held the princess and spoke.
"I have always served you because I love you and now, I command you to come back to life!"
Then he placed the Crown of Fire on her head igniting a ring of light. The white rabbit looked down to see the Harvest Moon Princess opening both of her eyes.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood
A new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt
I drove past the banner that said “Welcome Race Fans”
Took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me
I guess chalky grey primer is not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place
I chugged-popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old
Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said “sounds good”
The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up
Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine
Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement
Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise --- becomes music
Speed --- satisfaction
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
The waterbug and the ladybug
Fell in love with each other
But they couldn't work it out
They couldn't get it together
Ladybug said " I can't swim "
And water bugs can't fly
Ladybug swung down like a swing
Kissed him with her wing
One touch and the connection was made
Ladybugs love was real
Waterbug cried tears of sadness
For the first time he could feel
The day's turned into years
Ladybugs memories grew
She took her love to the waters edge
She didn't know what else to do
Waterbug was there in his lillypad home
So much his
But still he lived his life alone
Ladybug lived in his mind
There's nobody like her in the water to find
"Ladybug, I'll always love you"
He said very sincere
Waterbug then whispered in her ear
"If you ever need me, I'm always here"
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
FANCY AS ****
I knew something was not right. I went in with a sledge hammer challenged the truth and you put the phone down. Me in London, You in Dublin. One day to our planned London Weekend.
*I came in like a wrecking ball
Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung
Left me crashing in a blazing fall
All you ever did was wreck me
Yeah, you, you wrecked me
I never meant to start a war
I just wanted to know the truth
I wanted you to tell the truth
I couldn’t live a lie; I was running for my life*
When you put the phone down on me on Wednesday night Oct 10th followed by a solicitor’s letter the following day, that was abuse. That letter was profoundly nasty. It was all a lie, just like as I now know, the rest of our relationship was. You went to the Garda, anything just so I would not discover the truth.
Your abuse is not without it's consequences. I needed you to tell me to talk to me. I don't feel revenge, anger, hate; I just feel utter shock, used, physically abused and mostly devastation.
But you know what, it hurts like hell, but I will fight back and I will find my way out of this abuse. I find it hard to believe you want me to suffer like this. Now I know you ‘Fancied Me As **** Why not just be straight up? Why all the lies? Why not give me the chance to walk away when I wanted to?
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
In bed, I lay
upon my cushioned existence I stay
but outside the world's at play
birds swimming in the sky
and trees that gently sway
dancing the day away
and I continue to lie
the distant sounds
of yawning grounds
two parched lips
as the Earth does rip
let the rain come
so we may take a sip
heavens nectar
falls upon a discarded deckchair
striped like candy cane
blotched with the rain
scattered upon sandy dunes
could this be a monsoon
ironically late
but still worth the wait
paid patience admission at the gate
one ticket to wet wet wet
this is what patience gets
just need a raincoat
so I can appear in the matrix
how can you hate this
a neopolitan sky
dripping with colour
if I were a scholar
I could espouse on its many virtues
instead, I turn up my collar
and tip my hat
a little milk won't hurt you
an umbrella swung round a lamppost
and now I'm Gene Kelly
still wearing a raincoat
but dancing
romancing the moonlight
for night has snuck in the back door
like an absent teenager
but this too shall pass
soon the dunes turn to grass
and I too return to task
a new day
at play.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
Speaking of the kids in my hometown
we used to walk the traintracks obsessively
like they’d lead us somewhere
like they’d show us something
like the end of the summer was just a bookend parallel line with the river by the library card that promised if i only read enough books i could get out of there and over the moon.
just parallel lines, but they made as much sense as any other way out.
And the gazebo where the high school band played
and I swung on my first date
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
In times gone by, now recondite,
Neanderthal, ***** upright,
spoke softly, tones so lily-white,
and tried to put the world aright.
He taught us how the flame ignites
that wearing furs will warm the nights,
just why the rolling wheel excites,
and how the beveled flint stone bites.
Before the days of dynamite
he fought his foes with spit and spite,
and swung big sticks with all his might,
and rendered death with stones in flight.
Engaged in never-ending fight
(arenas were a global sight)
he forced his forces to unite
to sate his oily appetite.
To quell rude thoughts that may incite
he ruled the realm with fly-by-nights
and culled the winds of words in flight,
and darkened minds to anthracite.
With fairy tales of evil sprites
and how the fist of freedom smites,
he washed the world with flames alight
to vanquish hoards of parasites.
Each dawn the damage brought delight,
the foe was bent, a bit contrite…
yet battled on with no respite
until the dusk and evening light.
Encamped beside the firelight
Neanderthal, that shiny Knight,
awaited morn while sitting tight
assured the end would be alright.
Yes, conquest seemed his sacred right…
Forevermore?… well, no, not quite…
Neanderthal's extinct tonight
and lies beside the Trilobite…
MORAL
The Oreo is round, not bright:
while rolling near the candlelight
at first the searing seemed so slight,
the molten cream an oversight…
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
It was cold city night,
The hours with sounds dying,
It seemed life had escaped,
To the other side of the world,
I rocked for hours with my child in my hands,
I dreamt about her life to come,
Like I often did,
A little eased at the fever subsided.
As I slipped into the clutches of sweet slumber,
My head slumped down,
In what seemed like a blink of an eye,
My head swung up to search the sky,
Where the gold of the sun
Seemed to chase away the night,
But there was something not right,
The morning seemed to bring a sense of change,
Not of the good kind.
As I felt my child, burning up like the coming sun,
I hurried my way to the physician,
Like a saint he answered to my prayer,
Asked me to wait behind while he tried to cure my life,
I never realized until he gave me the handkerchief,
That with my baby I’d been crying,
Her cries echoing foul against my ears,
I’m hurting as much on my helplessness
To take care of my child,
Who is part of my flesh,
Part of my being on the verge of...
Part of my being that I brought to life.
I began to sing to my baby a lullaby,
“Don’t cry my child, I’m here right by you,
For you I sing this lullaby, so you may fall asleep.
In the moonshine, your face glows,
You look like the princess
A queen you’ll grow up into,
Leave me someday for your king,
But till then be with me always,
Even when you learn to walk,
My child, so I can fulfill your wishes,
So you’ll remember me always,
So I can protect you till your king comes,
So I can teach you to walk and run.
Don’t cry, you make me cry too,
Sleep now my child, tomorrow
We’ll begin anew, for you’re alright,
This discomfort will pass… Oh look!
It’s already morn, the sun shines bright!
I see you’d fallen asleep,
While I kept dreaming on,
Open your eyes my child,
A new day has come.
As I finish, I realize that you stopped crying,
But to my plea, you never opened your eyes.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
there is an elephant in the room.
it showed up about ten minutes ago,
just strolled on in as small talk
turned into big talk and the
elephant couldn’t find bigger talk anywhere else
so it stayed.
i offered it food, drink, a corner
in the garden, it laughed
and told me to stop trying
to be a good host
and just let it be, but i couldn’t just be,
trapped in the kitchen,
stuck between a rock and
a hard place, the hard
place being an elephant.
meanwhile the talk grew bigger
and it grew bigger,
there was an elephant
in all the rooms, we should have
built the ceilings higher,
made the thresholds wider,
if you’re going to invite
an elephant into your home,
it has to be able to fit.
otherwise, you’re looking at
tusks in the wall,
a tail in your face,
an elephant and no room.
the elephant swung its head
and our eyes met as the big talk turned
into small talk but the elephant
had heard smaller talk before
and i had offered it food, drink,
a corner in the garden.
i didn’t want to let the elephant
inside, but we had left the door wide
open, so who could blame
it for wandering in?
it stayed in the kitchen
and i stayed with it, it laughed
and told me it didn’t need
company, meanwhile the small talk
grew smaller and the elephant
grew bigger, i didn’t want company
but there was an elephant
in the room.
i didn’t know
how to take care of an elephant,
but that didn’t matter,
it already knew its way around
the house, knew how to small
talk even smaller
than our talk.
i asked the elephant
for its name. it laughed and
told me it didn’t matter,
it knew mine and that
was enough. meanwhile the
small talk stopped and i stopped
trying to talk smaller.
the elephant stayed
in the room.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
The mahogany table-top you smashed
Had been the broad plank top
Of my mother's heirloom sideboard-
Mapped with the scars of my whole life.
That came under the hammer.
That high stool you swung that day
Demented by my being
Twenty minutes late for baby-minding.
'Marvellous!' I shouted, 'Go on,
Smash it into kindling.
That's the stuff you're keeping out of your poems!'
And later, considered and calmer,
'Get that shoulder under your stanzas
And we'll be away.' Deep in the cave of your ear
The goblin snapped his fingers.
So what had I given him?
The ****** end of the skein
That unravelled your marriage,
Left your children echoing
Like tunnels in a labyrinth.
Left your mother a dead-end,
Brought you to the horned, bellowing
Grave of your risen father
And your own corpse in it.
6.3k
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
I think that you might notice
That I may have gone too soon
When you stumble upon houses with not enough doors
And too many empty rooms
I think it might hit you
When you walk past my swung open door
With no warmth to the core
With no bags on the floor
So I'm not the coldest thing that you knew
Honestly, it'll hit you
When the carpets unvacuumed for days
"It's so messy," you'll say
Like this is fixed with a broom
How's that house with no windows,
And too many rooms?
I don't fill my days with nothingness
I don't sleep until noon
For air, I crack the windows
And I rearrange the rooms
And it's fine by me
If you think
I can't leave a minute too soon
Someday I'll return, won't look through your windows,
Someday I won't want a room.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Drowsy, as the eyes of mine sleeps
a joyride of fantasies, a jumping of sheep
so, the pages turning mama would red
while my feet are falling and
my arms up my head, hands unsaid
with a gentle rock and a soft abye
I'm off to dream land as I fly
silk of red swooped to the entrance gate
a little slip, a little slide till it fade
and gently I landed at the pearly lake
A boat by Venice caught me alone
with the breeze scented, so cold as snow
and Grims hoisting a whooper
a sure one they'll never throw
passing here and there and off they go
storms of Neptune came up the sea
big waves flung, I swung towards east
clovers led me to an isle and said
"How Lucky you'll always be"
no more thunders but just all reverie
A twirl to the woods, exciting it be
with beams of the moon
and the stars sitting on the tree
lights flashing, a calm of ebb
the spiders glistening, an artistic web
dream land is promising
like vines that whip and crawl
bearing fruit to bless us as we call
with roses of red, daisies blooms at dew
mama's lullaby at once, I knew
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
The first person I ever saw pass on
Was my great grandmother,
The wonderful woman who had 11 kids in total,
Second in line would be my grandmother,
Another special woman in my life.
I only remember my great grandmother
In her little wheelchair I loved to push around,
Or her four-pointed walking stick which I used as
Monkey bars and swung around,
Or the times we had to carry her into the toilet because
She couldn't help herself.
A few years later,
She moved out and I cried.
The strange thing was
I never cried during her funeral,
I didn't even weep when she took her last breath
With her eyes wide open on the hospital bed.
Everyone else was crying like mad,
And honestly in that moment,
I just felt weird.
Like a heartless creature who felt nothing.
People stared at me with their hateful tear-filled eyes.
I didn't like that. Not at all.
Maybe that's why,
Up to date,
I'm still trying to fix that.
Hoping for a chance to maybe feel grief again.
And this time I'd cry like crazy.
Mostly because now I am crazy.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
Here late into September
I can sit with the windows
of the stone room swung open
to the plum branches still green
above the two fields bare now
fresh-plowed under the walnuts
and watch the screen of ash trees
and the river below them
and listen to the hawk's cry
over the misted valley
beyond the shoulder of woods
and to lambs in a pasture
on the slope and a chaffinch
somewhere down in the sloe hedge
and silence from the village
behind me and from the years
and can hear the light rain come
the note of each drop playing
into the stone by the sill
I come slowly to hearing
then all at once too quickly
for surprise I hear something
and think I remember it
and will know it afterward
in a few days I will be
a year older one more year
a year farther and nearer
and with no sound from there on
mute as the native country
that was never there again
now I hear walnuts falling
in the country I came to
5k
So sell your daughters
**** your sons
Go break your spoken
Vows in tongues
For from these lungs
I storm the loudest
As my furies
Muse the proudest
Wings endowed with shrouds of Nyx
Baptized within the River Styx
So wage petty crusades
And feel
Titanic wrath’s
Achilles heel
For in this heart
My lust will claim
Entire Gaea’s
Set aflame
By bolts of my creative spark
Be sure, I’ve never missed my mark
So bend your knees
And cross your hearts
And mutilate
Your private parts
For by these hands
The story spun
The sickle swung
And shed my young
And led them to the glory sung
Henceforth until the Fates are done
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC