poetry

They say you wake up with the strangest feeling—
they say the sky will darken like the evening
does just before the night, the sunray’s weaving
will be blocked by the moon’s inherent reeling
across the blue, and birds instead of pealing
in morning song might sink into a ceiling
of trees, confused, tuck in one feathered wing
and then another, until the moon stays flying
and they again begin to sing.
Americans will gather outside, staring
at skies, the world will soften in its lease

They say you wake up with the strangest feeling—
they say the sky will darken like the evening
does just before the night, the sunray’s weaving
will be blocked by the moon’s inherent reeling
across the blue, and birds instead of pealing
in morning song might sink into a ceiling
of trees, confused, tuck in one feathered wing
and then another, until the moon stays flying
and they again begin to sing.
Americans will gather outside, staring
at skies, the world will soften in its lease

The prison cell, in fact,
turned out to be a gift,
a blessing in disguise.
Taking her out of the chaos
that her life had become.
A safety rope which pulled her free
from those last few desperate rungs
of the Downward Spiral.
Instantly snapping the neck
of negative and destructive
relationships and associations.
Now, unemotional
and wrapped in sobriety’s
cloak of clarity…
she was able, at last,
to see with almost ‘New’ eyes
the very traps which before,
she had blindly fallen into.

The prison cell, in fact,
turned out to be a gift,
a blessing in disguise.
Taking her out of the chaos
that her life had become.
A safety rope which pulled her free
from those last few desperate rungs
of the Downward Spiral.
Instantly snapping the neck
of negative and destructive
relationships and associations.
Now, unemotional
and wrapped in sobriety’s
cloak of clarity…
she was able, at last,
to see with almost ‘New’ eyes
the very traps which before,
she had blindly fallen into.

A flash struck the morning and the city fell,
all was ghost in the twinkling of an eye,
the fire sunk into earth like flames from hell.
The “Little Boy” blood bomb burst from its shell
and quaked the world below and world up high,
a flash struck the morning and the city fell.
Bones laid soaked in the “black rain’s” horrid smell
as the devil descended from the sky,
the fire sunk into earth like flames from hell.
A vaporous fog crawled into lungs unquelled
and bodies flooded the river nearby,

A flash struck the morning and the city fell,
all was ghost in the twinkling of an eye,
the fire sunk into earth like flames from hell.
The “Little Boy” blood bomb burst from its shell
and quaked the world below and world up high,
a flash struck the morning and the city fell.
Bones laid soaked in the “black rain’s” horrid smell
as the devil descended from the sky,
the fire sunk into earth like flames from hell.
A vaporous fog crawled into lungs unquelled
and bodies flooded the river nearby,

All evening spent under
The blue gaze of her eyes,
And the imported night-shade
Of a once fine satin.
The hop-scotch designed socks
She knitted in her nation’s colours:
Only three pair, that time,
Because of the talking…
‘It’s getting close to Winter
Over there,’ is what she said.
‘Always, someone’s at some front.’
Then – tiredly,
‘Always children. So cold. Threadbare.’
The needles were ridged. Twisted.
But they sufficed. Loyally
They’d worked many taut years.

All evening spent under
The blue gaze of her eyes,
And the imported night-shade
Of a once fine satin.
The hop-scotch designed socks
She knitted in her nation’s colours:
Only three pair, that time,
Because of the talking…
‘It’s getting close to Winter
Over there,’ is what she said.
‘Always, someone’s at some front.’
Then – tiredly,
‘Always children. So cold. Threadbare.’
The needles were ridged. Twisted.
But they sufficed. Loyally
They’d worked many taut years.

If there exists such a state
as perfect peace
it must be
this quiet calm
that causes a soul
to surrender its pride
I have nothing to hide
just serene eyes
staring down an ego
sacrificed
upon its own altar
of annihilation
Let my sins sing themselves
into an open grave
left waiting
for far too long
to bury the burdens
that never truly
served a purpose
I have no alms to give
just outstretched arms
and steady palms
that promise
to hold you

If there exists such a state
as perfect peace
it must be
this quiet calm
that causes a soul
to surrender its pride
I have nothing to hide
just serene eyes
staring down an ego
sacrificed
upon its own altar
of annihilation
Let my sins sing themselves
into an open grave
left waiting
for far too long
to bury the burdens
that never truly
served a purpose
I have no alms to give
just outstretched arms
and steady palms
that promise
to hold you