I was alone

when I went searching

   for your face

in all the crowded bars

where love hides out

under an assumed name.

There were many other faces

decorated with whiskey smiles

   and anxious lips

ready to whisper

anything I wanted to hear

but never telling me

what I really

   needed to know.

Why do those faces

always look so desirable

   at night

and so terribly lonely

when the morning sun

invades my one-room world

and splashes across

   the tumbled bed?

I didn't know your name

   then

or even what you looked like.

But I recognized you

by the sadness

in your eyes.

   Or was it

the reflection

of my own

lonely stare?

(Excerpt from the “Sadness of Happy Times” by Lou Duro: www.louduro.com)

Wearily, she watches you trek to the door,

Your luggage a battle in your hands,

The nurturing mother is eager to help

But knows she must resist.

Before her, a man towers her over,

She is shaded by his spotlight,

But she still sees her little boy

And it kills her to say goodbye.

Her world was created around you,

She remembers little else,

And when you’re gone, what is left

But a barren house of memories?

Still, your path is one that you must create

And that you must travel alone,

Though she’d give up her life to tag along

She can only wave goodbye.

She worries about the job she’s done,

If she has raised you well,

And given you the courage and strength

To prevail in a world so cruel.

“I’ll be home soon,” you reassure,

You’ll be missing home, as well,

And when you return a better man,

Outside the window, a wicked wind moans,

The havoc-striken forest has toppled,

And though the storm has won its battle,

Its perseverance refuses to recede.

Awestruck, I stare and I am reminded,

Its ferocity demanding to have its way,

It offers the answer that I’ve waited for,

Of the delicate rose and mighty wind, which am I?

The rose, so immaculate in its elegance,

And always so dainty and frail,

It lends itself to be vulnerable, exposed

Acquiescent of nature’s abuse.

But, oh, that mighty, powerful wind,

Consenting to only reverence,

Yet, still, it calms to a soothing breeze,

Defiant only when it is provoked.

The wind, yes, I profoundly recognize,

Vividly, it stirs within me,

Forced from the calm to its vicious howl

Lullabies chirped by sparrows a grin

from the green within the trees,

songs of elation, for Winter has gone,

as they sway in the gentle breeze.

The sky’s light invites me into its warmth,

dancing gracefully on my face,

the aroma of grass so freshly cut,

a brand new season’s embrace.

Cheers of a crowd at the baseball field,

franks on the barbecue,

and folks joined as one, at the picnic tables,

after the game is through.

The envious cold has bid farewell

and the earth is now revived,

all are out with smiles abound,

for at last, Spring has arrived.

One nation under God, indivisible,

And yet we stand divided,

The course on which we have embraced

Is destined for the mountains.

And still those mountains blind us,

As statuesque as they stand,

We cannot see beyond the plain

That is simpler for us to travel.

And when comes a day they come to view,

Forcing us a new path,

A new revelation with them brings

But it, then, shall be too late.

Together, yes, we could have climbed,

Strong and united as one,

But divided, it only conquers us

And the battle has been lost.

On the other side, a reward awaits

As the stripes and stars still wave,

Those mountains offered a pathway to glory

That we were too stubborn to take.

If only we could have seen

But we, instead, were weakened,

The plain eventually finds its end

And the mountains are all that remain.

But for the courageous, our mighty reward

That we can never touch,

For it is only now that we realize

That the united are who will survive.

Salt-scented breezes caress my skin beneath a blanket of blue

As we glide across a rippling glass;

My reflection dances in the liquid mirror

As if to entertain my soul.

An ebony sky intrudes, replacing a fallen sun,

Fury will join in the night;

Roaring rumbles penetrate the silent air

In the electric darkness.

Swept up in a moistened and bitter wind,

Violent waves toss us forcefully about

As the depth swallows our bow,

It descends into ruffled black.

Under the flashing sky we leap, one by one,

Into an unknown world of erratic cold,

Blinded in the night, abandoned and forced to ride the ocean tide,

Monstrosity fights our search for blessed earth.

A fearful struggle of determination, softened by a song on my father’s tongue,

Prayers into the lightning stricken Heavens,

Wrestling with weary bones and trembling muscles,

And suddenly, we are spit out by the sea with a kiss of freedom.

I’m still choking on my own blood.
As it slowly fills my lungs.
I am drowning inside myself
The blood is mine; 
the air is gone,
Now so am I.

After death, there’s nothing more than the same familiar space; still empty.
Waiting for the thoughts you brought to fill it,
Infinite & Eternal in each and every direction;.
Both up and down and beyond before.
Encircled by the horizon,
Stretched over these frozen markers in time.

This emptiness where your consciousness doesn't so much as ‘go’ 
as recollect that it's always been here.
can’t you see through this persistent dream?
there is no afterlife because nothing, 
not even memory, is ever destroyed.
just transformed.

into waves, 
into higher frequencies,
into states your mind no longer fathoms.
so you leave your mind behind.

crystal
liquid,
gas,
plasma.
your mind is the fifth state of matter.

None of us gets paroled
From the prison cells we lock ourselves into.
So that we all can fit together inside
These jigsaw lives that we lead.
.

Which  of course, eventually all blow apart.

We are merely the fragments of ourselves awaiting reassembly.

Each moment of thought is but a tiny drop of time.
Each piece fits the next piece.

Although we may try to avoid,
The murmurs of our own thoughts.
It is our hearts that yawn and awaken slowly
From their long winter night’s sleep.

You and I are mere mortals,
Who dreamt of a life without end.

And this is the story we tell ourselves.

Whilst slinking back to our cells.

My great grandfather was a Slave

My grandfather was a Native

My grandmother was a Bantu

My mother was a kaffir, Nigga, Negro

Names imposed by shackles

But an Afrakan I am

An identity my forefathers were deprived of

An identity I am now polluting with the fumes of cigarettes

In dope I am giving it another face

In ecstasy I am giving it a comical image

My drunken stupor gives it an unstable belonging

My borrowed accent contradicts what it represents

My imitated dress code conceals its beauty

My adopted religion undermines my intellectual prowess

My language deafens my ancestors

My values are valueless

My mind is discriminatory

It repels anything indigenous

Whilst absorbing all that is alien

None can identify with me

Even those I am emulating

Patriotism I reserve for my kind

I look down at my patriots

If I were xenophobic

I could have been my own victim

I pride myself in my slanted inferior education

An education promptly deleting my true history

Ignorance is my custom

I am dreaming dreams my forefathers cannot interpret

I am singing praise songs for my dying culture

I am branding a heritage

I cannot inherit

Knowledge of freedom is embedded in my subconscious

But suppressed by fear

Fear to develop my culture and identity

Fear to be rejected by the world

Fear to be different and still love myself

Yet with no identity I remain

TEARS OF THE VALKYRIE

Mighty are dragons, flames they do breathe

Long are their talons, with teeth they do cleave

Wings like a storm, the wind they do blow

No fiercer an enemy do angels or men know

Healed in clear waters deep in the well

There Odin’s eye and golden sword fell

Greatest of Battles, with sword he doth fight

Thor without Mjolnir no longer hath flight

Deep in the dragon the flames they do seethe

Heimdall fought bravely, but no dragon is he

The eye now is blinded, strong arm is left lame

Now come the Valkyrie to mourn for the slain

Copyrght © 2017

Robert K. Wheeler

The Fairies’ Tale

The days are long the nights are mild

The blissful life of a fairy child

They play with fish with birds they sing

Magic they wield on gossamer wings

The forest animals to them do speak

When injured or frightened its fairies they seek

Fairies they sing of Heaven above

Of war long ago and God’s lost love

Soon comes Armageddon at the end of an age

A side they must choose for battle will rage

By RK Wheeler

Copyright © 2017

THE DEMIGODS

There came a battle long ago

When Hera fell to evil foe

Felled by Haydes the stories tell

On the mount where Olympians dwell

Thunder rumbled, lighting flew

Mortals trembled, mountains blew

Stones they tumbled where angels lie

Unlike mortals they never die

Smell of sulfur, blinding smoke

Foretold by Fates wise men wrote

Within the earth Zeus pursued

One-time brother where dragons flew

Like gods they were to mortal men

Long stayed holy but then the sin

Mortal wives Zeus did take

Hero children the unions make

By RK Wheeler

Copyright 2018

A silent being filled with hate

Crossed oceans in a bitter state.

Spied a scourge in Everglades port,

Contrived a plan—the wicked sort.

The only way to find relief?

Destroy the vicious, heartless thief.

Justice was served at dinnertime,

With no one near to see the crime.

The dour man lurched, his fate was sealed,

Disposed at sea—his death concealed.

Though retribution was a need,

It came by way of evil deed.

The absent beast was soon dismissed,

Except by the recidivist.

Questions were asked, no clues were chased,

His bags were gone—his name erased.

The nefarious soul remained consumed,

The ship sailed on, routine resumed.

Revenge the price for freedom bought,

Arrived in time to stir the plot.

Two doors slammed shut, a blade dropped fast,

Shipmates stood by—their mouths aghast.

A headless corpse bled on the floor,

While villains planned to kill once more.

The ship’s crew masked their growing fears,

As mounting deaths slowed moving gears.

From steel-lined lift to ocean deep,

Lives were lost—yet few would weep.

For who could love a blackguard’s heart,

Except a heinous counterpart.

The sullen riders sought to blame,

All trapped inside a villain’s game.

Was there a demon on this craft?

Starboard, port, bow—or on the aft?

The ship of fools sailed aimlessly,

While hooded death steered ‘cross the sea. 

I start this not with thought but with past gestures of intent at times of soft-hearted, fluffy, mind-blowing feelings of love in the years gone by. The ladies of my past will and may always be special to me.

Through the good and trying times over the years and passing of time the grimaces, the anguish, the hurt, the pain, the oh so sweet special touches, and deep-soul loving on a plane (shh) haha, those intertwining passionate moments in time (Wow). So much untold and unforgettable memories of history.

Sitting in deep sorrow, never thought he’d leave.
Never heeded his warnings, didn't listen.

Stay home with me this evening, no, I needed to dance.
Didn't heed his warning, wasn’t listening.

Be with me this evening, a cozy spot I know.
Couldn’t have been a warning, why listen.

I love you he said in every way he could.
How could that be a warning, never listened.

He left for work that morning, the kiss that said goodbye
lasted longer than usual, could have listened.

Got home he was missing, belongings long gone too.
I looked back at the warnings. Should have listened.

Now sitting deep in sorrow no longer wanting to dance.
Wishing we'd shared that cozy spot wanting another chance,

To listen.

To and fro

A life of rushing to and fro,

Here and there trapped by the clock,

Working hard to get things done

Day in day out without a stop,

Get up late and you’ll miss

The bus, the train, or find you’re stuck

In a traffic jam, you cannot move,

You grit your teeth, you curse your luck,

With seconds wasted, minutes gone,

You ask yourself the reason why

It wouldn’t be better to opt right out

And just sit and watch the world go by.

From Entertaining Verse Poems        

©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

http://www.macdonrod.com/EntertainingVersePoems.htm        

Digital Destiny

Life is a cell phone

On automatic dial

Language is the tombstone

Ideas are a smile

Social media popular

Invisible people are fraught

Become a cyber star

Society of virtual thought

My car to drive itself

I’m free to inebriate

Protection from each other

Safety’s new blind date

Medical microchip 

Embedded under my skin

Sailing inside my ship

Determining next of kin

Evolving technology

Redesigning my life

Survival is an adaptor

With my computer wife

Amazing maid and cook

She never acts with spite

Attractive shiny look

In libido’s moonlight

©lee johnson

Our Eternal Soul

Biological entity

Life force beyond the self

Boasting its own identity

Reality on the shelf

Soul of life’s meaning

Of all my other pasts

Historical collection

Ancestral wisdom recast

Surfing your timeless esprit

Am I parcel of you

Or are you parcel of me

And are we truly free? 

Shapeless plasma form

You are an energy ghost

Anguish or brainstorm

Glad you’re my current host

There is no coffin to fear

Since soul lives beyond

And travels in a sphere

Until its time to spawn

Dream of eternal appeal

Dance and laugh with death

Feeling alive and surreal

Past my final breath

©lee johnson