gardenhackle Poetry (100)

Milky shower clouds obscure my visage;
a product of my father's father's father.
Anxiously I swipe the folds of cotton terry
sweeping away the opaque reflection,
revealing genetic threads running in lines on my face.

The pungence of lye soap slick with clay
blooms from the cup and the puck
scrubbed with tawny handled hair
as I lather up a memory only ever imagined,
to explore a chore as never done before.

Dry, faded black horn scales once polished-
Now ridged and bitten pivot slowly in my hand.
And the Sheffield steel heirloom lazily stretches,
no better for the long attic hibernation
but virile nonetheless.

Recently run across hone and stone,
its gleaming smile greets me glinting incandescence.
The strip of hanging Russian shell awaits
to caress and burnish a naked blade,
keening the edge for a new day's work.

My face now foamed with lather anticipates
some precious minutes in memoriam
as the ritual begins to conjure up the past;
as though breaking and appeasing an emotional fast,
savoring a small slice of my great Grandfather's life.

Assailed by the mist and chill
Day is dawning cool and damp
Coffee warm I drink my fill
As dimness hovers over camp

Another day behind me now
Another day before me still
To slog on upward, aching
On this quest toward the hill

My feet they feel so heavy
But I know I cannot tarry
There's naught to do but climb
For there are things that I must carry.

One day I'll look behind me
As I've cleared the hill ahead
And it will be then worth the cost
But the time till then I dread.

Nothing good is had with ease
This quest is no exception
And I only need to keep my trek
Onward, in the right direction

Long gray day before me
Long gray day behind me
One less than the day before
Till my angel's light shall find me.

I once had a friend try to borrow
My money with tales of sorrrow.
And so he did say
I need it yesterday!
"No Problem! Just ask me tomorrow!".

I once met a lassie online
Who's lips were sweeter than wine.
I invited her here.
Now I call her my dear.
And I must say that life is divine!

A pool boy at work in the shade
Was transfixed by a comely young maid.
She waltzed over to him
And she said with a grin.
You're just too hard at work I'm afraid.

After the War

Surreal haze of war
Blinded, numb and bloody
The soldier limps along
They say the paper is signed
They say the war is over
The horror now behind
Yet still the shots ring out

Was ever peace existing?
The first shots fired forgotten
How it started so unclear
And all these years just battle
fighting ducking taking cover
Living in a trench
Never sure just why.

Morally expected
Carrying out your vow
To never leave your station
No worse is worse enough
Bruised and battered
Marching, falling, getting up
Falling down again.

The haze of war is clearing
The numbness fades away
Sickness comes in waves
The damage now surveyed
So great the devastation
New losses still uncovered
How deep the wounds of war

Watching steel being pulled
From deep within the flesh
The length of blade so startling
The weapon of an expert
so deftly placed and sunk
The twisting was the thing
Twas no mistaking that.

Still the heart is pumping
And sutures slow the bleeding
But wracking pain and dizziness
Make marching on so hard
Life will not be stopping
And perhaps the march of time
Will leave the ruins of war behind.

Wiser now, perhaps
Weary now, for sure.
The mind now filling gaps
Obscured by haze of war.

Fly my love, fly
Earthbound angel in the sky
Through azure space
And fluffy lace
Aloft a mile high

Grounded soul am I
Just wishing time could fly
Dreaming of an angel's face
All aglow with ageless grace
An earthbound man, I sigh.

And when the setting sun
Announces night has just begun
An angel lands in waiting arms
That gather in the angel's charms
The time of waiting done

And so her wings will fold
Sweet angel mine to hold
Earthbound once again
A new life to begin
New tales to be told

Glorious days together spent
In seasons twice together.
One in summer's final days
And one in cooler weather.

One upon an Isle of green
And one beside the sea.
One in your own homeland
And one spent here with me.

The sweetness of our holidays
So swiftly did they fly,
Was tempered twice by parting
With a teardrop in the eye.

Another span together comes
As winter blusters in.
And a holiday of precious love
We shall enjoy again.

But this time will be different
As our holiday draws nigh.
For when I'm back to work next time
We'll have no cause to cry.

There will not be an airport scene
As you or I must leave
For we'll remain together
With no time apart to grieve.

The tears will be deferred this time;
A winter of respite
For not until the spring begins
Will I see you to your flight.

And though that day will surely come
I know for all our years
We'll one day be united
In a life with no more tears.

Oh, such a storied life you've led
Fantastic in it's telling
Though no one's near enough to hear
The sales pitch you're selling.

You've trampled those who knew you
In a drive to selfish ends.
You've hurt those who have let you in;
What few you thought were friends.

It's not enough for you to win.
All others; they must lose
You've burned all bridges to the ground;
A brazen course to choose.

And as the years have piled up
Your waning strength no shield.
No longer are you what you claimed;
Outstanding in your field.

And as you're slowly put to sleep
To languish in your dreams
Do you ever think all you held dear
Might not be what it seems?

You've nothing left but bitterness
And all you've won is lost
And those who should be there for you
Without a care you've tossed.

Your pride and glory faded full
And ye who gave no quarter
Now weep alone, untouchable;
A fool of the first order.

I am written words on paper
In insipid flowery phrase
I haven't any substance
But I still expect your praise

You'll scratch your head a little
As you read all that I am
Of course I don't make any sense
Do you really give a damn

Oh how my beauty speaks to you
My words are so sublime
Vacuity fulfills my lines
Because, you see, they rhyme

I wonder what you think of me
And what you think I say
Is there something quite profound
When I equate the night to day

And when I change the subject
As you read from line to line
Do you feel that I am thrilling
Or just drivel asinine

As a poem, I'm artistic
I'm a cryptic string of lines
Will you know of what I speak
After you read me many times

Does my meaning speak aloud to you
Or whisper in your ear
Does my rhyme seem more important
Than a message that is clear

If I tell you that the dullest knife
Will make the sharpest cut
Does that bring you an epiphany
And hit you in your gut

Do you think that I'm a message
Or a self effacing joke
Am I essence of a scholar
Or innebriated bloke

Now that you've read up to this point
Do you think that I am real
Or just expressions of an author bored
With a little time to steal

Little black cloud
Dreary dark and pallid
Gazing down transfixed
Never seeing light
Back against the sun
Ever shining though obscured
Vainly expecting to be
Admired for persistence
In denying it's existence
Demanding to be seen
Attention sought by casting shadows
Everywhere.

Little Black Cloud
Grim and so insipid
Glaring and staring
Only looking down
Ever seeing only dirt
Projecting large and mighty
Really transient and flighty
Dreary pallor belied
The weary valor implied
Transparent in your darkness
A lofty void of substance
Only Air

Little black cloud
You darken the world
Your nature is such
You will be gone as you came
Leaving the world the unchanged
Giving no rain
Leaving no trace
Neither nourishing
Nor encouraging
Neither supporting
Nor thwarting
Merely vapor.

We pride ourselves on honesty
Neither liars nor thieves are we.
We only care for worthy causes
Which speak to our nobility.

The truth is all that matters
Nodding thoughtfully we say.
But what about the fool within
With whom we're lying every day.

So subtle is this inner fool
To lead us where it will.
Believing always what we wish
No gap too great to fill.

We're fine and good and honest
We believe the things we say
Our inner fool adeptly makes
The contradictions go away.

There are no flaws in our beliefs
Too great to thwart the fool.
He'll iron out the wrinkles
Rationalizations are his tool.

When our real motives leave us cold
The inner fool will ply his trade
And he'll swear to us we're fine
With brand new motives that he made.

When what we want is selfish
And our conscience can't agree
The inner fool just tells some lies
To set our conscience free.

Belief comes to us easily
And beliefs need not be true
But the inner fool can swear they are
With just a fib or two.

And so we manage blissfully
So honest and so right
Our inner fool assures us so
While dancing in delight.

When beliefs we hold are challenged
To their rescue he will go
But his reassuring whispers
Are not proof that it is so.

He's great to stroke your ego
But when finding truth's your end.
You must ignore his counsel
For the fool is not your friend.