MM's Represented Poems for 2007 Options Track this topic Email this topic Print this topic Download this topic Subscribe to this forum Display Modes Outline Switch to: Standard Switch to: Linear+

[Cleo_Serapis]

JANUARY SELECTIONS:


The Ravin� by JustDaniel

Oft I dream, my body shakin�; worried wife cannot awaken.
Though I�m safe abed, she�s anxious; twice I�ve fallen on the floor.
Once she woke me from my slumber� seems I swore� a nasty number!
3 AM today, while tremblin�, something nearly soiled my drawers.
What�s that high-pitched screeching, screeching? She�s awake now and beseeching,
�Dear, what is that awful shrieking? Peek inside the closet door!
Only this, and nothing more!�

�Why don�t you? You are awake now� and of course you have the know-how;
must be Ollie trapped inside there; crazy cat�s behind the door.�
�No, it�s something else,� she worried; still she wished that I had scurried.
�Hurry up; get up, you crazy, lazy lump� but watch the floor!�
Still, I nearly fell� then righted, while she watched, now more affrighted
as I stumbled, bleary-sighted toward the stupid closet door�
now expecting blood and gore.

Tripping over clothes not laundered, step-by-step, in dark I wandered,
squandered time as I moved nearer, nearer to the closet door.
What�s behind it�? Now I�m fearing� and the fear�s not disappearing!
What could be there crying, crying? What�s behind that closet door?
Inch-by-inch� then hesitating. Why is she so obligating?
She could look herself inside it� I�m a man who�s scared� best hide it!
�Don�t you worry!� I implore.

Then I feel my body quiver� kidneys, bladder, even liver�
it�s gut-wrenching, teeth now clenching; I hear something like a snore.
Looking back� my wife is screaming, and behind, a light is beaming,
beaming till my eyes are burning� burning fire I can�t ignore.
�Turn the light off; I can�t stand it!� I yell back� yes, I demand it!
�Wake up, Daniel; stop that screaming!� It was I that I heard snore.
�Twas a dream, and nothing more.

� Daniel Ricketts 30 Oct 2006

Sing to Me by Eisa

Cradle me, Mammy --
in your warm arms I�ll inhale
the fragrance of your skin;
playing �butterflies�,
eyelashes flutter
against each other�s cheeks.

Sing to me, Mammy,
lift me with your spirit
in rousing hymns;
soothe me with lullabies,
swaying �til I rest.

I�m growing old, Mammy,
yet that little girl lingers --
longing for the solace
of your embrace.
When sleeplessly tired
I ache for the lilting
timbre of your voice
to wrap me in peace.


� Eira Needham December 2006


Mammy � Welsh dialect

The Phantom by Merlin

I

When dawn arises, spreading dulcet rays
across her vast expanse of peaks and draws,
nocturnal creatures tread on silken paws
back to their lairs ahead of morning�s haze.
A herd of horses in one treed retreat
begins to stir and move to grazing grounds;
spry, frisky foals carouse in leaps and rounds
as docile mares choose grasses fresh and sweet.

A cabin, nestled near a forest crook,
takes life with golden lamplight glow; its smoke
ascends in blue-gray plumes to disappear.
When Josh awakes, he takes a yearning look
to where his hills turn sable-cobalt-oak
and Hogback Ridge keeps chanting in his ear.


II

To local folks, The Phantom is a myth
like many kept alive across the plain
by cowpokes long in tooth and tough in grain
who claim they�ve felt this stallion�s fiery breath.
Those tales relate how he�s a patriarch
that keeps his harem free from spur and bit,
though loudmouth punchers brag how they�d outwit
The Phantom, but each effort missed its mark.

Josh rode his grula through an open green,
exploring Hogback Ridge�s weaving streams
and chanced upon a fresh, but well-worn trail.
He rode uphill to check what could be seen
and watched as wonderment change into dream �
light wind caressed The Phantom�s mane and tail.


III

Where mountaintops are capped with ice and snow
and stillness fills each valley to its brink,
a youngster stops to give his horse a drink,
dismounting while cool, placid waters flow.
Josh hears a whiney as The Phantom throws
his head around, now sensing something wrong
and starts to move his trusting herd along
the bottomland. A soothing zephyr blows.

Josh checks his cinch, remounts, and heads for home
since noon has passed them by some time ago;
his grula breaks into an easy trot.
With mind awhirl, Josh wishes he could roam
wild as The Phantom, free as west winds blow,
his restless spirit never to be caught.

[Cleo_Serapis]

AUGUST SELECTIONS:

All the Wile by Michelle


By day they masquerade in saccharine smiles
while feigning pleasantries. With practiced guile
they plant their schemes and brazenly parade
in saccharine smiles. By day, they masquerade.

When sunlight rests, those imps and fiends convene
unmasked, to dance a dervish round their Queen
Malevolence. They act on her behest,
those imps-- and fiends convene when sunlight rests.

With spouting sparks they sharpen trident spears
to prod when whispers fail to hold an ear.
Licentious prater permeates the dark.
They sharpen trident spears with spouting sparks.

Before I knew the sun, I romped at night
by firelight. Then, privy to their rites,
my shriveled heart was black yet weighed a ton;
I romped at night before I knew the sun.

Beware of covert brotherhoods and pacts,
of accusations made without the facts.
The average person dozes unaware
of covert brotherhoods and pacts. Beware!



Tricolor Pride by Cathy


She flies for freedom; off'ring choice
to listen to the homeland voice
in proof through... night... our flag's still there...*
with strength and glory all can share.

Although she's slightly battle-worn
from bullet holes and cutlass scorn,
word-whipped until her hem-edge curls
by mean-mouthed, uncouth, sadist churls;

she's softened by a mother's tears
and strengthened by a father's fears...
in solace for the ones who've cried
to honor loved ones who have died.

Still she survives, beliefs opined.
Historical events enshrined
she waves her stars and stripes in hope
that others draw within her scope.

Her stitches, sewn by loving hands,
withstand the rigor of demands
to bind our nation's future fast
against a terroristic caste.

We soldiers, armed with loyalty
and hearts that yearn to be kept free,
together charge the battlefield
to fight with might; we'll never yield.

We'll carry her with fervent vows
and tend her wounds when time allows.
Her cause may often be denied,
yet faith unfurled... she flies with pride.

*A line from The Star Spangled Banner



Nocturne by Merlin


He sits and watches clouds as they perform
their evening romp in rouge and twilight masks;
these casts of thespians accomplish tasks,
dispensing scenes a cut above the norm.
In phantom blue, a hazy castle looms,
a shadow figment filled with youthful dreams
like Ludwig's Schwanstein, built from welkin schemes,
while breakers' ebbing surf dispels his gloom.
His thoughts find wings and drift off on their own
to Jennifer, the love he left behind
in Winnipeg; she still torments his mind
despite untallied seasons. Time has flown.

A nightbird's call disrupts his reverie
but cannot grant his wish to set him free.