Lyrical Ramblings, Page 2

  Pushing aside the ugly

  trappings of the year gone by,

  downy bits of green appear,

  fresh to my tired eyes,

  extreme pristine green.

  Felicia

  Leaping about

  climbing walls

  doors

  plucking nerves

  needle sharp

  claws.

  Motor running

  sweetly winding

  around – tangled

  and then you pounce!

  Growling at flies

  batting dust motes

  Hiding in shoes

  unsuspecting feet

  mewling your disgust

  displeasure.

  Standing guard

  outside –

  Kitten with the

  heart of the

  Lion

  Insomnia

  Sleep!

  I crave my sleep!

  Come to me, now.

  I command my mind,

  To cease all thought,

  Allowing me peace.

  I cannot think.

  I cannot write.

  I cannot read.

  I cannot rest.

  I desire,

  Sweet oblivion.

  Sinking into,

  the dark emptiness.

  Insomnia

  Wakes.

  Writer’s Block

  Blocked, blocked, blocked.

  Round and round I go,

  A trip around the block,

  That everybody knows.

  Searching, searching, searching,

  for the right word.

  Banging, banging, banging,

  my mind only finding the absurd.

  Finally I pass,

  thru the looking glass.

  To my world of,

  sweet fantasy.

  Only to hear the piercing scream:

  MOMMY!

  Throes of Love and Hate

  emotional outbursts…

  Shine

  Will you shine it on,

  just to blow it off?

  Will you grow weary and tired,

  stomping the dust from your boots.

  Will you walk away?

  Can you shine it on,

  just to blow it off-

  Can you erase that memory, moment lips touch

  breath mingling a moment before time

  Can you forget?

  He shined it on

  pretty as a copper penny.

  Freshly minted - printed upon unyielding ore.

  Buffed and polished until the last image

  fades away.

  He shined it on

  removing the tarnish

  patina of age, knowledge, beauty

  wisdom wiped away - dark smudges upon

  stark white cloth.

  Will I shine it on,

  just to blow it off

  living as a shade - a memory

  allowing dreams of hope fall prey

  to misery?

  Will I shine-

  Will I shine?

  Or will I just blow it off?

  So Long

  So long - farewell –

  get the hell out of my sight.

  End this futile fight now.

  Enough I say, just go away –

  and leave me in

  bitter peace.

  Allow my heart –

  my soul, my inner me

  a measure of release.

  My eyes red - rimmed

  salt for Margarita glasses

  drowning sorrow in

  sweet drink that go

  down easy.

  With my back to you,

  I open the door.

  Wind rushes around

  skirts my sweet scent

  lingering behind

  carried on Springs breath.

  Release - Renewal - Rebirth

  Love’s Will

  Love is an act of will,

  standing when you want to run,

  trust in the face of fear.

  Honoring faith, believing in hope.

  Devotion, loyalty, friendship

  twined in the weft and weave

  as life’s fabric unravels--

  threads to be woven anew.

  Insanity

  Spiraling down,

  oblivion.

  His eyes turned to obsidian.

  I turn inwards,

  seeking reprieve.

  from he who is following me

  In my mind’s eye,

  I’ve become blind.

  He comes for me, in his good time.

  Reeking refuge,

  from my own thoughts.

  Deeper I go, surely I’m lost.

  Comforting void,

  wrapping my soul.

  There’s nowhere else that I can go.

  Silence screaming,

  echoes abound.

  Infinity, there is no sound.

  Falling deeper,

  in the abyss.

  Darkness awaits, with his sweet kiss.

  My eyes reflect,

  reality.

  Barren shell, a nonentity.

  Hidden so deep,

  in my psyche.

  A woman’s struggle to be free.

  Hate’s Tattoo

  Hate’s tattoo ‑ beats of rage upon my chest.

  Blackened curled edges on my broken soul,

  stained ‑ tainted and painted upon my breast.

  Love's bloom trembles timid in the tempest

  reaching to heal the ragged edges of the hole;

  hate’s tattoo ‑ beats of rage upon my chest.

  And deeper still the rage digs in, obsessed.

  Destroy light within, seeking to extol,

  stained ‑ tainted and painted upon my breast.

  Tendrils of hope standing fast to attest,

  the ruination of evil’s control.

  Hate’s tattoo ‑ beats of rage upon my chest.

  The tides of woe, wearily reach their crest,

  and promises of yesterdays, lose hold ‑

  stained ‑ tainted and painted upon my breast.

  Love’s bitter struggle, lost its noble quest,

  darkening shadows consuming me whole.

  Hate’s tattoo ‑ beats of rage upon my chest.

  stained ‑ tainted and painted upon my breast.

  Love’s Laughter

  Love’s laughter, light, chase away feral fear,

  to shadowed corners, spiders of my mind.

  And weeping wounds heal, joyous through the tears.

  Seven slashes upon my soul appear,

  past insults of love that refused to bind –

  love’s laughter, light, chase away feral fear;

  and seven years have passed, just disappear

  leaving me behind, stealing my sight, blind.

  And weeping wounds heal, joyous through the tears.

  Seven men, I caught a glimpse, as they peer

  upon the defiled form, that once was mine.

  Love’s laughter, light, chase away feral fear.

  No perching on pedestals, the choice clear,

  laughter trapped behind ramparts that confine.

  And weeping wounds heal, joyous through the tears.

  Seven steps - heaven’s descent - as I near –

  death’s loving embrace becoming entwined.

  Love’s laughter, light, chase away feral fear,

  and weeping wounds heal, joyous through the tears.

  Shattered

  Love lost again - life bitterly shattered,

  two words, that’s all it took - I said “Good-Bye.”

  What little is left - raggedly tattered,

  across the trade winds of chance now scattered,

  carelessly spoken words tripped up with lies.

  Love lost again - life bitterly shattered.

&nb
sp; Packing a case used, well-worn and battered,

  turning a deaf ear to pitiful cries.

  What little is left - raggedly tattered,

  upon the floor

  Love lost again - life bitterly shattered,

  what little is left - raggedly tattered.

  Wicked Fire

  Love a wicked fire that explodes from nothing,

  from nowhere and consumes all, leaving naught but gray ash

  behind that will nourish the soul for eternity. An electric blue

  flame lit from within with no help from a sulfur tipped stick,

  it simply exists to be. Is love reality? Can you quantify it;

  can you measure its girth? Worth its weight in gold,

  yet weightless. Insurmountable burden upon the shoulders

  of those who carry the torch alone, yet light downy fluff

  of an eaglets first molt carried gently down the cliffs face.

  A contradiction, an enigma.

  A caged sphere, hidden opening with its lock blending into mesh

  of hard gauged wire. Risks for nothing but the applause

  of children, the ohh's and ahh's of adults who have the heart

  of a child and the fathomless black of blank stares

  from those whose souls are old and shriveled. His wicked smile

  flashes bright in the spot of light pinning him

  down, searching for the one that sits among the crass

  crush of humanity. He enjoys the eyes upon him,

  even the jaded blunted green of the tired heart.

  Love a wicked fire explodes from nothing, from nowhere

  and consumes all, leaving naught but gray ash

  behind nourishing the soul for eternity.

  Reflection Pool

  the silent voice

  Mirrors

  Within the mirrors glass, a face, alone,

  reflected unto me a woman-child,

  her sins unknown never to be atoned

  kept caged within, the cages within,

  her smile thin, kept caged within, all the while.

  Peer deeply into pain grey-clouded eyes,

  Searching hidden faults lying deep within,

  And believe in, orig’nal sin, barbed lies.

  Winds blow sour, reeking of rotten gin.

  But dawning to she, in the looking glass,

  the Goddess Truth has come again to prey,

  As the dark shrouded dreams, at last have passed,

  Into lackluster nights of yesterday.

  At last the keening shriek, the banshee’s wail -

  Subsides to silence - strength of soul prevails.

  Boredom

  Lethargy seeping

  leaching out of hard bleached bones

  stealing precious strength.

  Emptiness filling

  languorous limbs hanging, just

  waiting for motion.

  Sleepy eyes wander

  everywhere – somewhere, nowhere

  never seeing truth.

  Life bleeding away

  to the nothingness of time

  forgotten again.

  Time passing again,

  the quiet innocuous thief

  ennui steals the soul.

  Wisdom

  Seek not wisdom of those who lead,

  in putrid ground they spill their seed.

  Brethren of the evil ones

  believing not in the Son.

  They spout tripe in the form of lies

  evil darkens both your eyes.

  Beckoning forth with words of love

  hairy hand in kidded glove.

  Wisdom found in what you fear

  word of truth, of light, you hear.

  WeOGod2

  Letters stamped upon a metal plate,

  Lord of Lies shall be proud,

  signs of false prophecy,

  blasphemy for all to see.

  For she has asked her Lord above

  “Forgive my sins, forgive my debts,

  forgive me all, for I have trespassed.”

  I ask, what is there left to owe?

  Christ died upon the cross for us,

  He gave His only begotten Son for you, for me

  and yet that does not seem to be enough,

  for you plead and cry your Prayers

  standing upon street corners;

  He commanded you to secrecy,

  what is in your heart

  is between you and He.

  Sheep

  Scream his accursed name and pound your fists

  in futile fury against a pale red sky,

  bleached by the tears of orphaned brothers

  and sisters lost forever to eternal hell

  fire and damnation.

  Following sheep in wolves’ fur aroused

  by promises promised by poison lips,

  a kiss bestowed upon the brow

  of a virgin; married.

  Seek the path of riches

  and the righteous shall turn their backs.

  Churches filled overflowing; coffers

  of glorious earth bound treasure

  maps leading to dust.

  Hearts filled with hope, of glory, singing Hosanna

  turned aside, for hope is no treasure, faith no buttress

  for those who seek glory in His name

  yet keep a seed for himself.

  Blessed is he who sows his seed

  in his neighbors field.

  Capricious

  Capricious and miserly

  pessimistic, joyless soul.

  Enter not to His Kingdom,

  as your hand recedes

  not from lack of need

  but from selfish greed.

  Reflections in Grief

  Grief dulled rusted old knife.

  Plunging deep,

  Lacerating my soul.

  Tears, acid trails on tender cheeks.

  Staining

  tendrils,

  burning

  scars deep within.

  Hate, vile putrid wasted life.

  Welling from,

  a tainted twisted need.

  Love, pure liquid light.

  Healing

  balm,

  easing

  the tortured soul.

  Laughter, giddy and fresh.

  Easing the pain,

  with sweet memories.

  Joy, tempering the void.

  Exalting in,

  the freedom of death.

  Perched Upon

  Perched upon a pristine shelf, cherished box,

  and a plastic doll suffocates within.

  Painted eyes peer from above as she mocks,

  those that have caged her in, holding her locked ‑

  safely kept from life’s dark sinister sins.

  Perched upon a pristine shelf, cherished box.

  Dust slowly settles on that soulless box,

  dulling the hot scarlet of her slashed grin.

  Painted eyes peer from above as she mocks.

  Time passes slowly, the clock’s tics and tocks,

  measuring to the end, what might have been.

  Perched upon a pristine shelf, cherished box.

  Seasons of disuse, fades her winsome frock,

  fool’s of the heart never learn, time will win.

  Painted eyes peer from above as she mocks.

  The day comes to bear, the box is unlocked.

  Painted doll ‑ now dust, his sinister sin.

  Perched upon a pristine shelf, cherished box,

  painted eyes peer from above as she mocks.

  Winds of Change

  Winds of change ‑whipping ‑shredding

  away the dusty shelves

  hope rests lightly upon.

  Lifting gently ‑riding aloft zephyrs

  freed from shackles

  binding, grounding to darkness.

&n
bsp; Absolution - redemption

  beckon

  Author’s Note

  About the Forms

  I love poetry, I love to read it, I love to write it – I love researching different forms. There

  was a time when I eschewed “free form” style – I would often compare it to playing tennis without a net or baselines. Obviously, I got over such snobbery. My first freeform is included in this collection, Four Seasons and it has to be of my favorite poems. Once the free form bug bit me, I fell in love all over again – the lack of constraint was intoxicating.

  Even though I now embrace free form, many different styles of traditional style poetry are represented in this little book. Oddly enough, my favorite styled forms of poetry are the polar opposite of freeform, the Haiku, the Senryu, the Tanka and several other Asian

  formats; my favorite being the Haibun, which is a mix of short prose followed by a

  complimenting Haiku. There is something extremely satisfying in boiling down a poem to its essential essence.

  Request for Reviews

  If you’ve made it this far, thank you! If you have a mind to, I would truly appreciate it if

  you could leave a little review wherever it was that you found my little book. Good, bad or indifferent – I would love to hear your feedback.

  Being an “unknown” writer is a tough gig especially in the world of poets and every review posted is a bit of gold for someone just starting out.

  Facebook Page: Lively Publishing

  Email: Stacy Stutz

  Again, thank you!

  ~Stacy

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