Image – Page 53 – Image & Verse

The Dark Battle

Depression has been a challenge most of my adult life.

The Dark Battle

I sometimes get very dark, my emotions get brittle. Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy that anger at life swells. Try as I might to fight it, this darkness still surfaces, my inner light goes out. But I continue facing it down when I feel its chilled grip.

That is what life is, keeping the good fight, finding the balance, because life is all about balance. The keeping of it, and the regaining of it when it’s lost. And it does get lost at times, very lost

But waging the battle’s an opportunity to confront the profound, and the mysterious. The great mystery we are not meant to solve, but rather to ponder with grace and wonder, in the embrace of love. For love is the gateway to the great mystery. And it is love that will light the darkness.

~ ~ ~

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Bewitched

An homage to the golden days of Hollywood, and the sultry sirens that sizzled on the big silver screen.

Bewitched

goddess of the silver screen
every man’s fantasy
luscious charms beguile bewitch
a most gorgeous mystery

golden lady of sensuous gaze
a beauty sure to mesmerize
face sculpted by a master’s hand
so seductive as to scandalize

her stare whispers come hither boy
as it floats above a comely pout
spellbound by her big magic eyes
she holds your soul with no way out

her tongue tip teases her top lip’s. edge
like a supple paintbrush flowing
this woman-girl’s smile will hypnotize
then wrap around you knowing

you are now her helpless captive
quite hopelessly addicted
in the velvet grip of this smoldering vamp
but is she an angel — or fiery wicked

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at The Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

For more poems at Poets and Storytellers United: CLICK HERE

Sunrise Sage

Sunrise Sage

on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned
by the disinterested waters
of mother earth

it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of a welcoming sea

as the rising sun embraces this morning
day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

prisoners of this quarantine
me and my loyal iPad
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly perplexed by this morning’s news

I read The Atlantic online
CNN drones on my wall TV

occasionally distracted
I avoid both angry screens
growing troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious

in this moment
my head drums
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare unfocused

TV announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I have fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this fucking world

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

Wonderpages

Wonderpages

this is not a book
it is a rocket into space
taking you to amazing places
beyond your wildest imagination

where you can watch
the golden clouds of Telure
wafting up its emerald climbs
high over its warm cerulean seas

where you can hear
the shrill haunting calls
of fast coral-winged Lellurts
racing into Droon’s violet skies

or see the copper hues
of rustling Parmus fronds
fire the indigo ground mists
beneath Gemin’s crystal trees

or maybe a genie’s lamp
carrying you off to Xanadu
to Kubla Khan’s pleasure-dome
where the sacred river Alph runs

or perhaps an enchantment
that introduces you to Bastian
and you two adventure to Fantasia
to save the kingdom from The Nothing

no, this is not a book
it’s a time travel vehicle
a portal to parallel worlds
it’s a key to unlock wonders
it’s imagination’s magic carpet
it is anything you dream it to be
but it’s definitely not — just a book

~ ~ ~

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Ghostin’

Ghostin’

~
ground red ghost pepper
just the very smallest dab
will do ‘ya
ground red ghost pepper
it adds a fiery flavor flair
ground red ghost pepper
makes flamin’ foods that rip
right through ‘ya
soon you’ll be cryin’
as you’re kneelin’
deep in prayer

To watch and hear me sorta SING Ghostin: CLICK HERE

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

https://youtu.be/5Kahhl5Qhus

Tender Tart

Tender Tart

tender apple
round and ripe
twas I
took that bite
last night

my mouth upon you
hungrily
oh lush plush pink lady

I bite you
firm but gentle
sweetly as ambrosia

you glisten
honeycrisp
trickle from my lips

you taste
golden delicious
tart as jonagold

tender flesh
so succulent
saucy treat sweetango

again I bite
with such delight
your tantalizing treasure

my soul’s afire
heady desire
such luscious juicy pleasure

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at The Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

To Sing

I was so horrified by what transpired in our nation’s capital yesterday that I set out to write a scathingly angry piece. However, it just got darker and darker still, the more I edited — and I was dragging myself under. So instead, I turned to blissful whimsy. I will return to being pissed off tomorrow.

To Sing

a tear can cloud the brightest day
song will brush those clouds away
is not sadness just a passing state
but what melody can alleviate

a tune played true as voices ring
little sorrows flee from such display
thing is, too few will dare to sing
and thus succumb to much dismay

yet when life is lived in harmony
what sorrow you feel will quickly fade
joy shared in chorus works perfectly
it swells the soul in love’s serenade

is it not foolish to stem bliss’s bloom
to see naught but the dark and gloom
sing — let beautiful light the room

~ ~ ~

a song is but a little thing
and yet what joy it is to sing

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

Why Poet

Certainly one of my most favorite poets is Gary Snyder. He has inspired me for years to write about the natural wilderness, an endeavor that sparks the ecstatic in me. This short poem of his that follows in parenthesis, “How Poetry Comes To Me”, directly inspired me to write the poem that follows further below, “Why Poet”. I had been in discussion with members of a poetry group years ago. We were talking about where and how we find our muse. Holding in mind this poem by Gary, I wrote the first draft of “Why Poet”. I wrote this revision found here for this prompt.

It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light

<=|=>

Why Poet

damaged in my special way
I like the path unclear
the route unmarked

fond of stumbling in
fumbling through
finding the way that’s mine

seduced by the clue
drawn to the fog
I seek the wonder
it withholds

my ears prick
to the distant sound
that calls
just beyond clarity

it is to this
my soul is pulled

because

down that path
around a curve
over a crest
hidden away

the truth dwells

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

Resilient

~

This is the era of COVID-19. A horrific experience like none in my life. It has shocked, terrified, and killed. My fear for my family has permeated my daily life. I am old and not wishing to die, but certainly accepting of its inevitability. My life has been full.

But my adult son and daughter have much life still to live. Watching the challenges they continue to encounter, fills me with much concern. However, seeing them embrace the ongoing changes so brilliantly, fills me with much hope. My 7-year-old grandson Alex, my son’s boy, while mildly confused by it all, and ready with questions, is maneuvering this new normal — resiliently.

I worry for his education, but he assures me he finds school online with his friends, “kinda fun PaPa!” He answers the zoom “school bell” on his laptop every morning with a smile. He is bursting with learning, always proud to share with me what new he knows today! He, with great support and nurturing from his father and mother, have shown PaPa — love finds a way.

grandson in zoom class
young voice reading warms my heart
fresh snow falls like joy

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

Songstress

Songstress

and so songstress
I think of you
and wonder

what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete

that in its heat
and ferocity
could not sustain
your tenderness of youth
until it became
much too much
for you to bear

yet still I hear
your silken voice
rising
to joy
to freedom
to love

to lust and longing
to heartache
to impatience
to immortality

your soulful siren sound
calling from the rooftops
over new york city

so seductive
the breathless passion
the bliss
and sorrow
of bittersweet innocence

when your wonder
stirred to every mystery
and your spirit lit
to every spark
igniting the fury in your soul

so brightly it burned
filled with red yellow honey
sassafras and moonshine
in a roaring sweet blindness
an inferno of creativity

ultimately
to leave you spent
at the stony end

and so
crying angel
I think of you
sweet songstress

remembering

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at The Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

to me the most beautiful song Laura wrote

No Need

No Need

the dream broke
like a prodigal sun
on a startled winter evening
causing him to squint
blinking away happiness
like sand in the eyes of love

you were there
the dismissive femme fatale
in this final edit

you took his cues
took his keys
took his shoes
took his leave
took his heart…

…took him apart

you took him for a fool

it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending

one that saw you
leave quietlyy alone
through the garden
alive with the fragrance of roses
and the joys of the lilly

and you said “I’d like, too,
to plant the sweet alyssum
that smells like honey
and peace”

and in this peaceful quiet
there would be
no long farewells
no broken hearts
at least
not yours

and the abandoned man
in the leather chair
had my face

had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing
nothing

and the night lark sang
and a silver tear
fell hard as steel
from his crystal’d cheek
which you collected in a sterling box
to toss into the freezing sea
for you had no need for tears
no need

you’d rolled the dice
but the bones was loaded

and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony rail
to watch it wither in the moonlight

he had no need for it
now
nor did you
anymore

nor most certainly
did you

no need

~ ~ ~

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ALL WOULD ENVY
~
old enough to be her dad
but the young men were just mad
they nursed their grievances
and she was flattered by his charm
it wouldn’t do her any harm
they all had their chances
he sent her flowers and limousines
she was treated like a queen
anything she ever wanted
it was no problem for a man like him
and everyone expected soon
that she could ask him for the moon
if she would wear his ring
knowing glances from his friends
in the homes at the weekends of high society
but he didn’t give a damn
he never felt more like a man
and all the time the clock was ticking
and all would envy
the older man and his beautiful young wife
yes all would envy
in a house upon a hill
she was there with time to kill
she lived a life she’d only dreamed
the life was never what it seemed
to all her friends that she’d ignored
she denied that she was bored
she had no time for dancing
– no time for dancing
but the clock upon the wall
that was ticking in the hall always reminded her
that life was going on elsewhere
but she was happy and she whould swear
she wouldn’t change a thing
and all would envy
the older man and his beautiful young wife
yes all would envy
now its five o’clock am
she must have spent the night again
with that old friend of hers
she loves to dance
she’s missing more and more these days
but he’s still stuck in his old ways
perhaps she needs a little more romance
but the clock upon the wall
is still ticking in the hall
she must be home soon – soon
where a younger man would weep
he takes a pill and goes to sleep
now who would envy
the older man and his beautiful young wife?
who would envy? who would envy?
~ ~ ~
gordon sumner © 2001

Rage

Rage

as I cautiously round the bend
and pass beyond the eerie marsh
I catch my first sight of it
the cursed final destination
of my long treacherous journey
the castle of Zwénne the Lesser
once my home, now foreign to me

this castle is most ominous
since becoming Overlord of the Realm
Zwénne has rejected our father’s example
as our father rejected him and his ways
no joy warms the hallways, or towers
this long proud and mighty old structure
now a soulless abode of dark magic

it has become cold and foreboding
a nest for perverse wing’d changlings
rumored deadly for those that dare enter
but I know they are not just rumors
there is undoubtedly a murderous evil
that dwells within its walls
raging jealousy — seething and vicious

since conjuring the spirit
of Döxys, the blood beast
and having been thus possessed
Zwénne has become bloodthirsty
mindlessly violent and cruel
now a ruthless predator
whom I have come to slay

would that this task were not mine
but I have been charged herewith
by the supreme council of wizards
Zwénne is my fallen elder brother
and by decree, under this 3rd moon
in the presence of his perverse court
by my hand alone, he must die

no turning back now, this must be done
and I must do it, but I am terrified
I hesitate at the heavy castle door
attempting to gain much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat, steady my breathing
I lift the iron latch, the lock clicks
the massive door unseats inwardly

this is it, fate has dealt the cards
I am both prisoner and executioner
trapped hopelessly in this horrible plot
I search my soul to find the courage
to take the life of my own flesh & blood
I swing the door open ever so gradually
eyes darting, mind racing, heart pounding

I step in…

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

The Guest

The Guest

~
the sun through my window
sits low on the horizon

the hall clock chimes
it’s the hour of twilight

the chill of night settles

I sit warm in my inglenook
serene in the solitude
for I’m not alone

your sweet memory’s
come to visit

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE

Fae Lauma

Fae Lauma

across the chasm of time
and great distance
memories unfold
like elaborate origami sculptures

I see soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
forested tier upon tier
with enormous sitka spruce

scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
whose branches in summer
display sunlight
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases a gem

and always beautiful fae Lauma
the earthen forest spirit
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green

she whispers
in wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir

her enchantment
wafts down emerald climbs
to brush softly my cheek
in brisk spritely breeze

a heady fresh bouquet
of invigorating conifer
dashed tantalizingly
with tangerine-scented white fir

a fragrance rivaled only
by the loamy sweet spice
of the rough-tufted red cedar

and eternal the forest fae Lauma
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green
hair of silken white-spun cloud

the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak

the golden shimmer
and crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen

these are the mountains
and forests of my oregon home
where I will someday return

to dance with the bewitching fae Lauma
eyes blue-green as the realm she dwells
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green
to share whispers of the mighty wood
and reclaim my high-mountain heart

now I have only
sweet recall

even in the faded light
of distant memory
these visions leave me breathless

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at The Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

Song of the Waters

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
(Kahlil Gibran)

Lost Lake, Oregon

Song of the Waters

~
should you encounter me wandering lost
my countenance brittle withered and drawn
know that my soul seeks the song of the waters
my aching heart needs be soothed in their arms

so deliver me to snow-melt high-mountain waters
sweep me away in their crystal’d blue streams
tumble me joyous in their rolling white rapids
sail me over a waterfall grand as my dreams

now I’ve grown weary — my leave I will take
to rest in the peace of a deep mountain lake