Poetry Collection

Running

along a black scar road

through a desolate landscape

of shattered tumble weeds

and lingering snow.

Darkness around

lights glittering in the distance

and the faintest pink streak in the east

like neon bleeding from a cloud.

Breathing

loud and rattling down a throat

as a north wind blows in

a gathering snowstorm and

the cold air

twists in the lungs

and slicks the sweat the prickles.

Pounding

footsteps crunch and squeak

alone in the night that grasps

that coming day with desperate fingers.

Coils of muscles

writhe beneath cloth and skin

first one foot, flexing, seeking the launchpad

then the other

calves flexing, eyes darting

freefalling ten miles an hours.

Freeing

the pounding, breathing, running

each step releasing

the shackles of shadow on a mind.

No ill or gloom can keep apace

nor dark thought gain a perch

upon the running man.

A retirement: is it anachronistic?

Re- means back, back from, returning, again, anew.

-Tire from tirade, a volley, tirer: draw out.

So far from that to reach an estate with a view.

What a difficult thing, to live beyond one’s time,

To become a relic, unneeded, unhelpful,

No one of consequence, another “once I was.”

It’s easier, perhaps, to die as Wezzix died.

But no, I live, and I draw not yet useless breath.

A purpose I shall find, what once I sacrificed:

In scholarship and research, I shall stave off death.

In service to myself, and not the Prime, I’ll live.

But wait, the ground shakes!  Wherefrom does this tremor come?

Back to the castle, for my work is not yet done.

Awake!  Awake!  Awake!  The gong reverberates!

The alarm’s out, an attack’s come in the darkness.

With unknown foe, we’ll strive until the hail abates,

Our fortress, it stands strong against the wilderness.

To arms!  To arms!  To arms!  The foe would do us harm!

Us, yes, and all those east of us whom we protect

Civilization, in city, village, and farm.

To defend our peaceful lands, you must stand erect!

Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Ghosts!  Like ghosts they slip through the darkest night.

An arrow strikes here, a slung stone there.  All is dark.

Where go they swiftly now?  I cannot see to fight.

Silence descends, they are fled, but my terror’s stark.

Do you feel the difference?  It comes from the west.

We must learn of this threat, there is no time to rest.