The Hard Truth (a Troilet)

Everything born must die,
Everything started must end.
No one will ever truly know why,
Everything born must die.
Salt stains skin from tears we cry,
Silence answers the prayers we send.
Everything born must die,
Everything started must end.

6/4/18

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Alone (a tyburn)

Alone
Disown
Dethrone
Condone

Left alone, virtually disowned
Dethroned by the sin none could condone.

6/4/18

My first attempt at a Tyburn.

A Twitch Away From the End

The cold taste of steel
In your mouth,
The faint scent of gunpowder
Stings your throat.

Just a shiver
On the trigger
And a hot wad of lead
Tears a hole
Severing your cerebellum,
Bringing an end to everything,
Except the darkness.

5/9/18

Visions (a tanka)

Possessed by visions,
Unwilling and unwanted,
Beautiful nightmares
Of terrible, wonderful
Truths, changing our perceptions.

5/9-5/11/18

My response to Colleen’s 2018 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 82 – BELONG & DREAM #SynonymsOnly.

Unfulfilled

40 years ago
16 flags unfurled o’er the fields
In the days after
The hard rain fell
And the thunder rolled.

Shepard and sheep
Soaked to the bone
Waiting for the warmth
Of the Sun to slide
Through dark clouds
And dry their wool.

Shuffling through the shadows
From the temple
To the marketplace
Without moving at all.

Merchants, thieves, and priests
Somehow sharing
The same space,
Thirsty for wealth, power, and praise.

Empty as a spent
Wine cask
That they desperately try
To refill with stale vinegar
Through cracked
Plastic straw.

4/27/18

My 21st poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Homeward Bound

On the road again
Back to where it all began,
Where it will all end,
Where it already ended
Surrounded by teapots,
Solar powered knick-knacks,
And Love.

Where it will continue
To end
As pieces of life
Dry up, die off,
And fall away
Like flakes of dandruff
In the wind.

Wind wears away
Layer by layer
Atom by atom
Leaving only
Bleached white bones
Resting near the heart
Of the valley.

River green valley
Parallel majestic mountains
That burned in the night,
Lighting the skies,
Blotting stars and Sun,
Overturning the evolutionary chain.

Now snow capped
Silent sentinels,
With the occassional rumble
Of boredom,
Holding fire,
Keeping the peace
Until the day
When everything
Will burn.

Starting out on my journey,
Through the pass,
Past the peaks,
Between sleeping giants
And down the
Fern and fir tree slopes,
Following flowing
Tributaries,
Following my footsteps
All the way home.

4/21/18

My 20th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Down the Tracks

Life is not a road
On which we walk.
Roads can be walked
In either direction.

Life is a train
On which we ride,
Ever traveling forward
At faster
And faster speeds
Until we reach
Our destination.

4/21/18

My 19th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Carpe Diem – a Tanka

Delicate rosebuds
Collected in the garden,
Sweet smell of summer,
Now just dried dead memories
As we all, someday, will be.

4/19/18

This is my response to Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 80, GATHER & SOFT, #SynonymsOnly

My 18th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Fragment of Verse on the Passage of Time

Days slip away
Brown hair turns gray
As a boy turns into a man.

4/18/18

My 17th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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The Birth of Miðgarðr

An Excerpt from the Recitation of Visions of Ðanuz, High Priestess of Jorð

Listen and attend,
Sons and daughters of
Ash and Elm,
Grandchildren of Yggdrasil,
To the visions and memories
I share and recite.
Older than all your
Gods and kings am I,
More ancient than all your cities
And all your petty borders!

I remember when
Fair Alfheim still stood
Above the waves
Of the Fomoires abode,
Before Falias’ foundation,
Or a single tunnel
Dug out by Dvergar hands
Into the depths below
Niðavellir’s dark fields.

I recall when Alßiz’s kin
First arrives in moonlight
Along the banks of the Rhun,
Long before the sons of Alßiz
Founded the cities of the north,
Before Æliz took up his holy
—If not misguided—
Mission in the east,
Before brother ßanðr fell to darkness
And Chaos.

Generations before the tyrrany
Of Aurgelmir, son of Tiwaz,
Gluttenous Ymir, great-grandson of
Etunaz the bold,
Who brought with him
The Long Winter of Blainn
From which only Woðanaz
And the sons of Borr could thaw
And retore order to the world.

I was there and saw
The Alföðr and his brothers
Raise the walls made
Of Jotnar bones,
To protect the saplings of
Ash and Elm
From the chaos and wrath
Of the surviving insatiable offspring
of Ymir’s loins,
In the garden at the heart
Of the world.

4/16/18

Notes on Pronunciation:
ß = “v”
Đ / ð = “th” as in father
ȝ = “y” as in youth.
Æ = “aye”

Miðgarðr = Mith-garth (“th” as in father)
Ðanuz = Than-ooze (“th” as in father)
Jorð = yorth (“th” as in father)
Yggdrasil = Eeg-drass-ill
Alfheim = Alf-Haym
Dvergar = D-verg-ar
Niðavellir= Nith-a-vel-ear (“th” as in father)
Alßiz = Al-viz
Rhun = Roon
Æliz = Aye-liz
ßanðr = Van-thur (“th” as in father)
Aurgelmir = Our-gel-meer (“g” as in gold)
Tiwaz = Two-az
Ymir = Eye-Meer
Woðanaz = Woah-than-ahz (“th” as in father)
Alföðr = all-fa-ther (“th” as in father)
Jotnar = Yote-nar

My 16th poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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