Bran the Blessed

Bran, blessed crow,
Revered raven,
Son of the seas,
Brother of Branwen,
Defender of honor,
Keeper of the cauldron
Of life.

Gave Branwen’s hand
In marriage to Eriu’s land,
Revoked once the abuse
Of the King was clear.

After the battle
That broke his sister’s heart,
His disembodied head,
Cleaved from his neck
By a friend,
Talking and joking,
Keeping his comrades company
On the long
Journey home.

After 87 years
The sorrow settles in.
A silent head
Laid to rest
Under the White Hill,
Gazing toward Gaul,
Protecting and defending
Even in death.

7/6-7/7/18

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Eriu’s Isle – a Tanka

Northwest of Prydein
Enchanted Emerald Isle,
On the border ‘tween
This land and the other-world,
From which the Banshees still wail.

7/3/18

My response to COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 91, “Magic & Green,” #SYNONYMSONLYCOLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 91, “Magic & Green,” #SYNONYMSONLY.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Walking down the boulevard
To the Bowery slums,
Broken dreams and broken men
Drenched in kerosene.

Standing in dirty shadows
Of millionaire owned monoliths
Unseen, forgotten
Out of sight,
Out of mind,
Out of time.

6/26/18

Disconnected

Disconnected,
Adrift in the gray.
Bright colors of life
Muted by dense fog,
Murmuring voices
Talking around
And through,
But never to me.

Seeking, searching,
Screaming out
In silent prayer
To be seen,
To be heard,
To be healed.

6/21-6/22/18

Vacuums and Scars

A living nightmare
From which I cannot wake.
Coming apart at tge seems
Like an ill made scarecrow
Left in the weather too long,
Portions of my past
Falling away to dust,
Leaving sucking black
Vacuums,
Bending light,
Distorting everything they touch.

Souls slipping away
One by one.
Time’s tragedy:
Entropy increases.
Some vanish quickly,
Some fade over time,
Still here,
But not the same.
All leave black void scars
Like the aftermath
Of open heart surgery.

6/14-6/20/18

Sweet Surrender

The world can
Wear you down,
Like a slow steady stream
Of liquid bullshit
Grinding granite to sand,
Over the years
With obligations, obstacles,
And obstructions,
Violence, destruction,
And hatred,
Egotism, isolation,
and dumb-fuckery.

Even just surviving
Every day
Can be too much
A burden to bear.
Weighing down
Like a fifty pound rucksack
On a 10 mile march
Through the Missouri wilderness
Under 95º sunshine,
Sweat stinging your eyes,
Salt water on your lips,
Burning between shoulder blades,
Pain spreading out
Like cracks through a windshield.

How easy it would be
To drop the sack,
Fall down
In sweet relief,
And surrender.

6/8-6/12/18

Dry Bones – a Haiku

Valley of dry bones
The breath of life in the wind
Life is born of death

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

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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