There is no escape from the lair,
This slave cannot flee anywhere,
Submitting and peaceful when held in his cage,
But out, Is his spear good reason for fear,
The harder the combat, the greater his rage;
The maddening slaughter he craves, it comes faster,
The lair becomes hotter when slave becomes master.
Poetry
Between Heaven and Me
This began as a response to my daughter asking me to write a quatrain describing a beautiful beach.
Gull. Wind.
Wave. Shore.
Flap and blow,
Roll and roar.
All between heaven and me,
Broken on this shore.
Heart. Blood.
Breath. Door.
Beat and flow,
Draw, before
All between heaven and me
Sees me through the door.
Thursday Riddle (March 6, 2014)
Just like a despicable spice
That’s tossed on a platter of rice
Of which is each grain a morsel of pain,
I’m condiment not very nice,
So serve me to who you disdain,
To watch all their happiness wane;
The sultan is nigh, but tea before I
May help an illustrious brain.
May help an illustrious brain.
Thursday Riddle (Feb 26, 2014)
You bow in silence with a humble grace
Affording us this service you repeat:
To drive away the darkness with your face
While springtime flowers kiss your toeless feet.
My First Cinquains
Take root
In constant love
That like a forest grows
All while the raging storm above
It blows.
A thing,
Familiar now,
But only so because
I distinctly remember how
It was.
There are
Stupid questions,
And stupid people who
Declare they don’t exist; you know
They do.
Thursday Riddle – Feb 20, 2013
These hairy hunchbacks huddle to keep
Warm all together as one;
The mantle they share in perpetual sleep
Is forged from a drop of the sun;
The huddle is broken with one of them woken,
And thusly their end is begun.
Ecphrasis of A Silent Tree
Picture courtesy my niece Zahraa. Thanks JM for what inspired the verse.
O wintery night, how cold is your touch,
My branches remember their leaves,
I miss their green laughter, I miss it so much
Till all of me shivers and grieves.
My branches remember their leaves,
I miss their green laughter, I miss it so much
Till all of me shivers and grieves.
O wintery night, your stars lend to me
That with them my branches may play
The song of sweet silence, how it will be
The silentest rustle I say.
Thursday Riddle (Feb 13, 2014)
Do not, oh please don’t turn your back on me,
And trust me with your limbs for just another
Wee step, descend before you heed my plea:
No rungs, just up the one and down the other;
How pure the air of morning time can be.
You cannot forbid my arrival,
And though you may make me depart,
Returning am I when clouds gather high
Eclipsing the sun from your heart;
Or when you are lost in a tempest
Of heedless and dizzying mirth,
I come to remind you as subtly I blind you
To time in its glorious worth.
Thursday Riddle (Feb 6, 2014)
Although I resent this intruder
I host him without a complaint
And host him despite my complaint,
Lest he may assume me the cruder,
I deck him in apparel quaint
Of silky bright robes, many layers,
And let him remain here with me;
It grieves me, though, when one declares
Him grander than I’ll ever be.
Updated, thanks to some healthy critiquing :-).
Thursday Riddle (January 30, 2014)
Although they never meet in ease,
They always meet in pain,
Remain apart in Iceland, then
Unite in pleasant Spain,
And there, on banks of babbling brooks,
They meet again and again.
Remain apart in Iceland, then
Unite in pleasant Spain,
And there, on banks of babbling brooks,
They meet again and again.
Vacant valleys, hidden hills,
Anger shows them near,
Calm you down and clap your hands
To make them disappear.