poem

A Golden Man’s Cuisine

/ inkspeare

From time to time, the muse taps my shoulder, and let’s me know that it is time to write a little poem. Sometimes it is a holiday poem, about nature, or even a satire, and sometimes it is about the Golden Man, a character I created a few years ago. Think of him as a social character.

A Golden Man’s Cuisine

The Golden Man forgot his quest,

in pomp and circumstance now, he bathes.

Who are those people under my feet?

Must be the ants, and they don’t eat.

Bring me some wontons, bring me kababs; the ants can starve.

But first, cachapas I must have,

and later, much later, I’ll think of cheese.

At a Close Glance

/ inkspeare

Nature never ceases to amaze me, and so does refusing to see the truth.

I always thought this tiny beetle was black. It is the size of a pinhead. It wasn’t until I decided to take a picture of it and zoom it that I realized all its beautiful colors. At a glance, it looks black, but it is not. Now, I see it with very different eyes.
Buzzards are welcomed here in Chatham. We even have a buzzard festival.

Jester enchants the crowd,

at the ivory palace,

the half, mesmerized, dance.

Reign of Terror

/ inkspeare
Moon and branches (Photo by M.A.D.)

Here’s a little seasonal Halloween poem, Reign of Terror.

Reign of Terror,

the sick becomes sicker

the hungry hungrier.

Twenty million reasons

away into the night fly

while the land into the dawn cries.

Happy October!

The Golden Man

/ inkspeare

Here’s a little October poem, The Golden Man.

Fail and flail,

the madman on the golden throne.

Dreams of golden nuggets, of crowns, and crones.

Pumpkins (Photo by M.A.D.)

Oval Circus

/ inkspeare
Photo by MAD

Oval Circus, a poem.

The false king,

in the oval circus vested

the wisdom from his jester

of his buffoon, discernment.

*

Countless clowns,

upside down crosses

the false king

amok runs his horses.

*

Puppets and pawns ignore disbelief

the circus on fire

the tarp breaks apart

the herald, breathes fire.

*

Paupers and peasants

observe with regret

the noise becomes louder

a voice screams, you’re jested!

Eagle’s Flight

/ inkspeare / 3 Comments
Photo by Maria Diaz

Today, I sat to write a post and I had nothing. My mind was blank, my heart felt heavy. As I was ready to close my notebook and throw the pen, the image of a soaring eagle crossed my mind. Then, I wrote.

Eagle’s Flight

Land of the Free

Land of the Brave

Beloved soil, beloved grave.

*

Sadness, despair, chaos everywhere

Tumultuous times

Ungodly affairs.

*

The eagle lands

Its tired wings

Signs of derail, never defeat.

*

A little while, a tiny rift

Its wings will flap

Its heart will heal.

*

Above the land, throughout the seas

The Eagle soars

In flight now, stronger it is.

From the Ashes

/ inkspeare
Photo by Maria Diaz

From the Ashes

From the ashes Eagle soars

plumage burnt,

through the fire it has flown.

*

In its beak, an olive leaf

In its heart

titanium shield.

*

As lion it roars, as lamb its soul

Made anew through the storm

Diamond eyes, beak of gold.

*

Beacon of light shines to the world

Stronger than ever

its grip has become.

*

Freedom and hope it found way above

Under God, one nation

Under God, one soul.

Blood and Metal

/ inkspeare

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.