The stream (all workshops)
Claim by RW
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What matters not is amplified
"This didn't go so well" he cried
the common flagrant combination
of ego and false condemnation
and worse yet, there's a dictate thrown
that poems must rhyme to be shown
it's this that ends my hesitation
to point out that my true oblation
can contain iambs and tera-dactyls
they flow the random path of fractals
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This is meant for one you see
who openly addressed for me
the way a poem ought to be
Tin sleep awake
the darkened breaths
softly rising
weak like a new hour
We are ghosts lost you
and I
weaving patterns in the
storyboard of weather
permitting moods
the rustle of the rain
at night
sunparched ground
sighing
verdant rivers of wind
complex and seeking
in the mystery of lives
our words are supple
liniments for the woes
we do not own
our histories held in
waiting to be soothed
"Anniversary"
A bouquet of roses
from your hands to mine,
while chilling on ice
a bottle of wine.
Gift box on the table
tied with red bows,
logs burn in the fireplace
while outside it snows
.
Long tapered candles
dimly lighting the room,
gently dispersing
those tendrils of gloom.
The moonlight streaming
through the windowpane,
soft music playing
an old lover's refrain.
television shows
sometimes coincide with life
this seems trite, I know
but often happens in times
when my life is full of strife
diluted glut
What is this state we call monarch,
a word poverty, what does it mean.
Can we eat a monarch’s left over’s,
so making the word poverty, clean.
I can’t see beyond monarchs first letter,
when it’s meaning fills me with outrage.
No one should be thinking their better,
than any creature they’d kill to assuage.
Should we just discard the infirm or ageing,
helping only those we deem to be an equal.
Shall a monarch applaud these ways discerning,
assuming we’ve been groomed to their will.
seed of life TIME
You do see through
metaphorically the seed of life
from within human
and
then take on another sojourn
towards a newer generation,
as the only constancy in life
is change
and
that the new seed provides
as an admixture,
West and East.
after another hundred years
there will be no
West or East
all humans will inherit the earth as meek,
poverty stricken,
nude
stark raving mad ,
raven hungry
..stuck in this eerie moment
unearth the most startling
chronicle of life’s dealings,
an indication of betrayal...
..staring keenly
at the possibilities of humiliation
from this distinct
yet surprising predicament...
..escaping was not an option,
to succeed unnoticed
was the ultimate ambition
through this mysterious prejudice...
..mortified from this certainty
confronted by fear,
anticipating strangers
with their bizarre gazes..
Innsmouth Sonnet by RW
(Thanks eternal to H.P. Lovecraft- IA IA Cthulhu ftagn!)
The flood tide pushed the barriers today
a wraith unseen is shredding its wet rage
the workers see the swells and run away
she's come intent to pull me from my cage
my look gave her permission, come inside
our business old, suppressed, and placed behind
she eddied close and kissed me satisfied
that I had called her back into my mind
Today, I have grown a heart of stone
I look not again upon the stars
Nor delve into the craters of my scars
Deep hurt already rings inside of me in an abysmal tone
I have questions. Curse them anyway
Never do I get straight answers
Nor am I ever pointed towards the right way
I foot all alone in my misery, night and day
I went forth with cloak and cowl
To tarry where the night things howl
Where shadows 'fore the moonbeams fled
And night-dreams with the darkness wed
I hear your voice,it's taunting me
Beside the foot-path by the tree
A whisper,tremor,thin and low
Calls me pleading,I will not go
What do you seek,both night and day?
Forever coming here to pray
In hope somehow this penance may
Wash your soul from sin away
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