I’ve long read and heard prose authors recommend writing poetry on a regular basis to improve your skills as a prose writer. With that in mind, I am attempting to make a habit of consistent poetry, the results of which I will post on this page.
along a black scar road
through a desolate landscape
of shattered tumble weeds
and lingering snow.
lights glittering in the distance
and the faintest pink streak in the east
like neon bleeding from a cloud.
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.
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.
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.
Borivat’s Retirement (202210.04)
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.
Night Attack (202210.04)
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.