Receptivity

A good life isn’t time to mull
or victories to boast
it’s moments when your heart is full
that truly matter most:

a warm embrace can help erase
the cold and clingy doubt
which seems to ever haunt our race
regardless how devout,

your offer of a gentle word
can easily assuage
ignoble inclinations stirred
by pride’s improper rage,

and sometimes silence serves the best
when tension slowly mounts
or even an impromptu jest—
it’s being there that counts!

There’s just one thing for me to say
before this ship departs
each day we all should find a way
for love to fill our hearts.

Unveil

How quickly seasons seems to change these days
the muted earthen colors so subdued
much like my current introspective mood
the curse of a mercurial malaise
that started when I first began to see
this constant darkness permeating life,
contributing to all the futile strife
which somehow always interrupts our glee;
and with a gust of wind the leaves are gone
the canvas once again unblemished white
awaiting the creative touch of Spring,
that fertile clime from which our dreams are drawn
to counteract the imminence of night
with artistry that makes the angels sing.

Clod

He knew he had a rose inside
that struggled to be free
but all the salty tears he cried
reduced fertility

and though at times the sun would shine
to help it grow a bit
the constant clouds made him resign
with naught to show for it

which stirs the anger in his blood
convincing him he’s doomed
to being just another bud
that never truly bloomed.

Spread

Ignorance smears like butter
smooth and full of fat
maxims the mindless mutter
pollute with every pat

and it doesn’t seem to matter
to anyone in the least
that heaps upon their platter
a great unfounded feast.

Static

The corporate suck-fest drains
anticipated gains
what little fight remains

my stasis nears its end
the garbled lies they send
impossible to defend.

Overcast

Cirrus aren’t too serious
but cumulus accumulate
with mists that make mysterious
inequities that inundate.

Delivery

Sixty nine days without sun
or open expanses to run
the dust that they breathed
while fearfulness seethed
reminded them soon they’d be done.

Sixty nine days beneath sod
that once they so carelessly trod
no bones to exhume
just babes from the womb
reborn through the graces of God.

Suspended

At times it’s worth the nails
if common sense prevails
but never get too cross
when hammered by the boss.

Consecration

The sandstorm viciously slashed
with every choking whirl
just like a howling rabid beast unchained,
the air around the Dark One flashed
and he took the startled girl
to a nearby cave that he secretly maintained.

She faced him as a lioness
content to slowly pace
until she had a chance to flee this cage
he masked his own uneasiness
when staring at her face
the desert seemed much cooler than her rage.

“You know my party will look for me.”
she said, her voice on edge
“So you might as well prepare yourself to die.”
He dodged her gaze quite handily
by climbing to a ledge
where he had a hidden hole from which to spy.

He saw no active pursuit
the storm was too intense
and had to use this time to make her see,
he looked at her, resolute
then kneeled and uttered “Hence
your loyal servant is all I wish to be.”


***Well I finally got around to part 4 of my desert saga. Sorry it's so long between installments but if there's one thing I've learned about writing these serial poems it's that you have to be in the right frame of mind for the story to keep flowing. Here is a link to Part 3 which has links to parts 1 and 2 at the bottom, enjoy.***

Fasting

Like hogs at the trough
we’re slaves to our sloth
inhaling inedible slop
such good little swine
we idle in line
while corporate clowns cleverly chop
just steer yourself clear till they stop.

Mortality

The thistle changed to stately brown
devoid of diamonds in its crown
while flanking sumacs flushed bright red
anticipating winter’s dread.