Author: poetryfest

Mike Dubisch © 2022

Ten pearls lined up in rows of five
Two miles of curves
The cavern which births all lives
The two moons that serve

Lost in a shallow depression
The valley curve beneath
Two small watchtowers atop two hills
Two mountain ridges reach

Two thin branches end
With two tiny women
Each one also wears a pearl
On each of their five heads

Waterfall of silk, gazing pools of hue,
Breathing monument pointing to
Seashells hearing both false and true
Sweet red leaves a lick made new

Save the homily, put away the cup,
close the old book and turn away.
When the hurt that is rushing, through
our lives like a train – there is nothing
to stop it – not a word or refrain.

When the dreams we are dreaming
are peopled with sons, that are no
longer with us, then the pain’s just begun

We can tell all our loved ones that we’re
doing just fine – that the ache that just started
begins to subside – but we’re lying,
and they know it, been through it themselves,
what’s this word they call closure – but a ticket to hell.

But pain isn’t endless, it softens with age
At times it can comfort – lets us forget the old rage.
It’s shallow, not deep, it rubs and abrades,
in the end, though it sutures the same wound
that it made

Closure is wishing that time got it wrong
that the moment that shattered
didn’t really belong – just delivered in passing
to the wrong addressee –

But in fact, all that mattered is we never forget
to live and to love and to never regret.
That the lives that will touch us, then leave us alone
make us better, than ever we could, by being alone

If eyes are the window to the soul, then why?…
Why can’t they see Hell blazing in his eye?

Mortally wounded spirit cries… the hellish chasm gapes
Over his every tortured nerve another memory scrapes
Darkness personified with every remembered face
Wounds of the soul so deep Time cannot erase

If eyes are the window to the soul, then why?…
Why can’t they see Hell blazing in his eye?

Honor and glory gained for gory deeds
Guilt cuts like a knife while murdered hope weeps
The eyes take in what the hands have done
The soul forever sees the black victory won

If eyes are the window to the soul, then why?…
Why can’t they see Hell blazing in his eye?

He closes his eyes to live out hell replayed
To wish just once, his hand could be stayed
His every step… every breath now death haunts
With demon souls of his dead his vision taunts

If eyes are the window to the soul, then why?…
Why can’t they see Hell blazing in his eye?

On his shoulder all his dead… faces pushing the slide
Every soul a demon howling… powering his final ride
No stopping him this time… no one to catch as he fell
His demons dragging him down… dragging him down…
down… down… down to Hell!

If eyes are the window to the soul, then why?…
Why can’t they see Hell…
Hell blazing in his eye?
Hell blazing…
Blazing…
Blazing in his eye?

© 13 September 2014, by D. Denise Dianaty

A lifeless thing that moves you,
It leads you places,
It is a compass to locations.

It is a body part that is so important,
As important as day and night.

Hands make you feel,
Life breathes through the hands,
They come alive once they are spoken to
The fingers move as they are called upon.

The strangest thing is they are alive
Nothing holds it back
They can’t be stopped.

Hands are like a soul
They need to be kept warm
Hands, they are like a soul to the body
As the night draws near, the hands unveil the blanket of light.
Then the stars appear, and it appears to be night.

The story of my hands is different.
They are different,
my hands have taken a shape much different than others.
How proud I am of them and that I love them.
I am proud of my hands.
Beaming for joy,
For this life,
These hands,
This breath,
This body,
This earth that carries me and us through,
I am grateful for me,
And grateful for us.
And ready for all the miracles.
And let us all embrace the same feeling of gratitude.

I fell in love on the Alcan Highway
A slender black figure with electric blue eyes
Her hair, the color of the clouds
And a blanket on her bosom ran down to an evergreen blouse

I fell in love on the Alcan Highway
In the east, she appeared through a mountaintop shade
Her heart beat a heavenly warmth
That let me weather all my inner earthquakes and Derecho storms

I fell in love on the Alcan Highway
She wore scars on her skin, the toll of untamed landscape
Her voice, of a delicate rain
As she made her way to me, she swayed in a groove of mistral wind

I fell in love on the Alcan Highway
Gunning for the end of the road on the horizon
Chasing my piece of civilization
Blinded by neon lights, memory’s a curse on my god-damned eyes

I find that I cry
Mainly with one eye,
The right one.
‘More eager, perhaps?’
my judgemental mind snaps.
Why not ‘more honest or brave,
Free of purpose, like a wave’ ?

The left eye always takes
heaps of time till it breaks.
It struggles to let go.

Lined up like soldiers in a row,
across lush shadows on the road,
the houses are bathed in white gold.
I can clearly see that,
as I sit here with my eyes shut.

A man walks determined and fast,
cutting the silence. He too now has passed.
Cars drive by, close to the ground,
Sending in the air shivers of sound.
As each goes by, it makes more and more sense
To sit quietly still, like birds on a fence.

Dismantle my identity until I am,
bare, as the sheets that envelop my virtuosity
His lips & hands survey my body
Like a lesson he yearns to learn & teach.
Somehow our lips intertwine. Clawing his backside, we straddle;

Torturing my rose pedal, he traces the way;
Tickling my juice box, devouring my saccharine,
Vicky is no longer a secret.
Silk between my toes as I arch my back
Fighting to be liberated, like I am under attack,
Mouth full of my bliss, his handle disappears
Then reappears…on repeat

A cry of liberation,
Strangled, muzzled by this craving,
Matching thrust to thrust, every angle
This is everything!

1) She was on the ground staring upward. The shadows from the curtains made impressions that mottled the lesions on her skin. She wanted to rearrange, fluff the curtains, taste the snow once more. But also didn’t want to rise from her position.

2) On the carpet beneath her leg, a stain. The last time she bled. Over an hour ago. She was fatigued from holding the hole shut. Shiny flakes of snow landed on the window’s edge. Shuttered away in waves lost in space and vagrant time.

3) The old man had said this storm would be different. He said it would be over soon. He said it was a place inside her, seconds would separate the end of her life, and perhaps her son, too. It would take seconds of her life. For a second.

4) He forced her up, placed his palm toward ceiling, as if turning snow to rain. The curtains breathed, then eventually sun glared through them. He closed his eyes behind thick glasses. She rolled around, pressed, focus applied to the hole.

5) Only arms dancing, and the guise of characters outside in transit. His fingers like the pinchers of a lobster, the sun penetrating, the irony rich and unfettered. She felt it could only be a slow dance, a dive to the finish now.

6) One last sun slant, a last glimpse of the snowy shards of dawn. At another time it might have been different, a stark contrast to this demise. Now it seemed inevitable, this end, as she raised her hand to part the curtains fully, one last blistering time.

7) Her son came in to find her. Collapsed. He knew it would happen, and he was not surprised. He scooped her up, and carried her into the kitchen. Propped her on a chair. Stared into the sink. Traces of snow against the window. Cook one more meal he begged.

8) The old man started with his pronouncements. He was pontificating to emptiness, and all ears turned deaf against his dogma. The son slipped out, their clients found other indelible impressions and eventually silhouettes were buried in the sand.

9) The shadows from the curtains made his rapid demise even less sustainable. Variable temperatures, and hidden dreams. Every day the old man knew less who he is. The patterns mocked him, appear to leave a slight permanence on his formidable skin.

How dare you despair?
The cold blue air is filled
With clouds and birds and sunlight
Sharp cut shadows
Slicing my slice of the world
Into diamonds and paths toward spring

Birds flit and feed and sing
Busy and furiously fighting March winds
Too cold to stop till blue twilight
When they shout a reminder they’ll be back
Next sunrise come what may
I risk to bet on sure things

Cliché focus

Your snaps embarrass
Opinions no value
I don’t need to waste my time on you
if all you want is you you you

You cannot see
So
Don’t zoom on me
Don’t click on me
No flicks for kicks
Leave me out of your selfie

I am here to lift and shift you
I will blow you off
your comfort zone
You might get lost
with exhaustion
I will stress you out
and
make you dizzy
I will challenge all your senses
and your temper may explode
Or
I bore you to death
I am Time well spent

if all you want is you you you
You cannot see
So
Don’t zoom on me
Don’t click on me
No flicks for kicks
Leave me out of your selfie

I give you magic
I show you dreams
outstanding beauty
something you have never seen

I am ancient
an old star
on this planet
I am timeless
I am always in fashion

if all you want is you you you
You cannot see
So
don’t zoom on me
Don’t click on me
No flicks for kicks
Leave me out of your selfie

Throw your flip flops away
and get dressed for me
I want your best for me
I want your impatience
Let me tempt your heart
to stand still
Your superfluous is mine to kill

I am the Queen
queen of the seas
I am Venice .