Once the cold weather starts, inevitably, I think of Jack Frost and the old cartoons depicting the old man with long frosty fingers, so I wrote him a poem.
Jack Frost
Jack Frost all dressed in white
evil fingers freezing the land.
Dark winter, time has stopped.
On the land, hell just froze.
***
A prayer broke the mountain ice
A ray of light appeared above.
The host’s descent cold evil melts.
The land is thawed, is free once more.
October is almost here, and with it, the Halloween decorations start appearing in stores and homes. When I was a child I loved Halloween, and as an adult, I enjoyed making elaborated candy bags for the neighborhood kids, as many as a hundred bags, and many times, all of them went before 8 PM that day. I enjoyed seeing the little kid’s costumes, and in the back of my mind I always picked a favorite – the winner for the day. I dressed up for work on a few occasions – alien, ninja, enchantress … Although I don’t celebrate Halloween anymore, (my views of the celebration have changed considerably), I think most people enjoy dressing up for it, and enjoy the day with their kids. In lieu of it, I have decided to post a few four-line poems, quartets.
White Lies
Coward surrounded by white
Eagles left behind.
Rotten soul hiding behind the mask,
slowly decaying, festering in lies.
***
A Broken Touch
Not Midas, nor gold
Broken is the old man’s touch.
Chaos, disarray, disdain …
IT brings forward a broken world.
***
The Boogie Man
Everything he touches crumbles,
taste of decay and desolation.
Lonely soul awaiting fate
Days run short, darkness engulfs him.
A Halloween poem.
Of Mice and Bats
False hero has fallen
entwined in lies
pricked by the spikes of his creation.
Have a Happy Fall!
Not your typical Autumn poem
The Fall
Master of Lies
white walls crashing
Autumn of the righteous.
A poem of the times.
Blood and Metal
You can break my skin
but you won’t break my soul
A second, a pinch,
my freedom lies within.
*
Blood against metal
Machine against soul
These bones won’t break
These eyes won’t shut
Free Will is in my blood.
In God’s Image – A poetic Rant
When you call out inclusion, I am insulted; I believe I am a part already.
When you want to lower standards for me, I am underrated; I have high standards.
How can there be equality when I am being set apart as being different or less than by the same policies that claim equity?
Your policies are intended to keep me down, but I have never seen myself as a victim.
I am made in the image of God, and in God I trust.
I have not been able to write a poem in so long. As I watched the evening news yesterday, this one came to me, as a prayer for our nation.
A Great Eagle’s Prayer
Through the dark clouds
an eagle soars
A ray of light
its wings restores.
Following the sun
wings spread, sublime it soars
Higher and higher its climb
for land and freedom implores.
High in the sky Great Eagle sees
darkness is gone, freedom restored
For God has seen its bloody wings
flapping in prayer, closer to heaven.
High in the sky Eagle can see
the fragile land that lies beneath
Its vision keen, its wings are strong
in God it trusts, its heart has healed.
Stronger than ever the Eagle stands
in Faith, in Freedom, in Holy Land
For it has conquered darkness of soul
the serpent crushed, in God it trusts.
Christmas is just around the corner. My favorite time of the year. The reason for the season is the best part of it, the most sublime gift – Jesus Christ, King of kings. Most years, I try to write a poem for this blog during this time. I know 2020 has not been a kind year for anyone, but we should welcome the season in our hearts and be thankful that we are still around, and for many other blessings that whether we realize or not, have happened throughout this dreadful year.
A Holy Night
On a cold December night,
outside I stepped, to see the stars.
The moon shone bright,
the air was crisp.
My heart too sad to think of Him.
*
A tear I felt, and many more.
A cloud passed by
the moon it cloaked.
A heart too tired,
A heavy load.
*
Far in the sky, a light above.
A twinkling star,
Its light bestowed.
Far down below
my heart just stopped.
*
A voice I heard
deep in my heart.
“My child I am here.”
“Of you I think,
your heart I hear.”
*
The star I saw
Announced His love,
his gift bestowed.
Born is the King,
Jesus, pure love.
I will be back in January. I am very grateful for every reader and visitor of this blog, and I wish everyone a beautiful season and many blessings for 2021. Lets hang in there; this too shall pass.
Listening to the news may trigger an emotional response. In this case, a poem.
The Zombie Wife
Shattered, dry, tired, weak
broken spirit, broken will.
He stole her life, he cut her wings
Leaving her dreamless,
no soul within.
*
Poisonous love,
Ivy of lies,
Ring of deceit.
From it she drank
becoming sick.
*
No strength, no will
No wants, no needs
To break the chains,
to feel, to dream,
impossible feat.
*
A zombie wife
the nymph became.
A lonely stare, unsteady step.
A living dead
No dreams, no quest.
*
The Zombie Wife no tears has left,
No heart, no soul,
no blood to shed.
Empty her days,
her body carcass became.
*
What will it take to pump her blood?
A ray of sun, a lightning bolt?
For she has searched a withered soul,
And there she found nothing but dust.
Her only hope comes from above.
*
Her empty stare searching the clouds,
Her breathless lungs gasping for air,
Her shriveled heart has turned to stone,
Voiceless she screams,
Sound barrier broke.
*
A storm slowly brews,
lightning is seen, thunder is heard.
Tears become rain, drops of despair.
A jolting bolt strikes out her pain,
Making the dead alive again.
Photo by M.A.D.
If you watch the news, you are probably aware of the turmoil in this country. Sometimes, I feel as if the core of its foundation is trembling. I have to admit that the state of its affairs has overwhelmed me and even influence my mood and disposition. I don’t know if it is my perception but seems to me as if everything we have believed in, honored, and even taken from granted in this country is being tested in many levels.
I understand that for change to happen there has to be turmoil first; what is hidden must come to light and be known in order to facilitate change and growth. There can’t be a future without a past, and the only pathway to it is the present. With a heavy heart and love for country these words I wrote.
Country Blues
Red, white and blue
stripes, colors, liberty and woes.
Inside my heart the colors run
Red, white and blue, a patriot’s blood.
Feeling the blues
the eagle soars
deep within me
its wings so broad.
With every flap I feel its pain
looking for justice, hope, not disdain.
A nation ready to overcome
A people ready, in God we trust.
Red, white, and blue
the eagle soars anew.
Faith, liberty, justice, for one and all.
A people ready to honor God.
Inkspeare 