Story Bones

story bones

flesh full tales of woe

clenched between lips and teeth

willing foes pull to throw

growling low

tighter till we had our fill

of sinewy knuckle-down

marrow of will

no contest met

nor tissue left

parade around the outside wall

to paddock graves of earthen domes

in quiet of night the remains give way

the story flowers grow tall

Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash

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Photo credit:

Warren Wong

Here Freedom lies

I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent.  Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.

Soundings

 

Barstools, beers and lonely cheers

Sideways glances, sound and fears

Top of the loft, corner of the street

Just dropping off, by chance again we meet

 

Perched high above on a leather bus seat

Looking down on you as sun and horizon meet

Living through pictures on your wall

Passing on paper cranes, love and all

 

Resonating strings and sings around

Searching for words unspoken sound

Fathom feeling depths unknown

Silence falls like shell shock tone

 

Rivers of lyrical, satirical rhymes

Flood down the mount of eternal time

A single vase of living water, blooms

Tapped from the source in our living rooms

 

 

 

 

The day the war began

The day the war began

Seasons framed in reflection
Of my bedroom window view
In the mirror
I see me in all my bedding
Hair awry, face unkempt
Illuminated by the backdrop
Of the cherry tree
Telling me how long 
I’ve been sitting here
Since the day the war began
Lying wounded and shell-shocked
Months ago on my pillow
Craning my neck hesitantly
To peer out at the cherry picking
Birds up high buried in leaves
Listening to little voices squeal
Mouths filled with red juices
Delighting eating low hanging fruit.
More recently sitting strong, erect
Arms opening wide the curtains
To feast my eyes 
On the kaleidoscope 
Of fiery leaves still attached
And glowing in the light
As the sun hurriedly sets.
The coolness of the window
View icy grey branches 
Dew upon the buds 
That wait in vain for the frozen
Months to pass.
Teased endlessly by a
Weak winter sun bare lee
Shining on their old
And twisted frame
I feel much the same.
Old inside but 
Growing wise to not
Allow the inevitable
Changing seasons to
Dominate my own
Mind’s window view
Instead, I rely upon You.
To fight my battles with the
Endless foes apply the balm 
to shrapnel woes
Batten down the mind’s 
Battle cry and send the 
Warning salvo’s high.
Relent, relent, face me till
All life is spent.