lone parasol stroll
leaves and lady dressed in red—
grayed man misses youth
Does that old clothespin feel the cold
Worry about its aged look
Sun dried, rain tinted, grayed
Does it think about the “clothing”
Children’s flapping diapers
Growing to blue jeans
The “old man’s” shirts
He’s still working
As is the clothespin
Mostly it gets the heavy work
Stuff too bulky for the clothes dryer
Beach towels, blankets, bedspreads
Cold winds are its dance partners
Sticky snow makes it look like an elf
Does warm sun set it to dreaming
I hang an old shirt on the line
The old clothespin smiles
Whispers … back to work
On the outskirts of a long-abandoned country town
beyond the crumbling headstones and elmwood trees
is mounted a dark dismal figure of what used to be
a scarecrow whose limbs flail in Autumn's breeze
Hung as if crucified, his death was never mourned
The creature decayed in the midst of a barren field
Fallow lies the ground he once so boldly protected
Nigh on twenty years since wheat crops gave yield
Poor beast, with innards of grayed moss and twigs
Tenebrous, the moldy growth on his stygian face
as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night
He's a monolith of death, staked in this cursed place
Darkness saturates the clouds and shrouds the moon
Comes the North wind, and a caw... caw... cawing sound
A murder of crows take flight over the wretched scene
Where once reigned a Sovreign who was never crowned
Earth's final day came unexpected
It wasn't heralded, nor was it detected
The skies suddenly bled with starry rain
And everything living started to feel pain.
All lands and crops begun to decay
Then human flesh rotted and grayed
As planes from our skies started to fall
The feeling of horror dawned on us all.
Every believer begged their gods, lost
Looking for answers at any cost
In order to glimpse beyond the veil
To strengthen their hope that was so frail
The horns of apocalypse roared from south to north
But it wasn't angels that then came forth.
The Beasts of Calamity descended with one order
To kill and tear, respecting no border
No law, no pleading, no prayers too
With each moment their hunger grew
To every human their rage was drawn
And there was no running from this hellish spawn.
It seemed that the gods have left us to die
Their benevolent protection simply a lie
As moon above with crimson flared
With thousands of eyes it quietly stared
At our demise, terror and fall
As death came and conquered all.
Outside my window the leaves of Autumn change color
and wait for Winter, as they inch closer to death
Inside my window, I see my reflection in the window's pane
I too wait for Winter
where my skin has wrinkled and grayed
as I inch closer to death
Like the leaves, I see outside my window
I will hang on until the last
and wait for Winter's cold rains to fall
to cleanse the Earth and bring along streams
that roll down my window like tears
My hands tremble
as the chilly winds blow away the dying leaves
where they tumble into darkness
when the sun rises, my hands are still
and like the leaves, I too have gone
My window like the trees is naked and bare
Winter has come
and the world outside and inside my window
is dark and cold
4/22/23
contest Writing Challenge "W" words
sponsor Constance La France
They take a walk together in the morning
They watch old TV shows
They fill a picnic basket and drive to a spot down by where the river flows.
They walk along the beach…sometimes barefoot in the sand.
Often, when you see them, you will see them holding hands.
She has her favorite sofa to sit on…he…his favorite chair.
They’re not afraid to sit in silence knowing the other one is there.
They have their favorite movies, favorite books and favorite tunes…
They love watching the sun rise and set…
and the changing faces of the moon.
They love giving gifts to each other…
with no explanation for no reason at all.
They love celebrating the big days in their life
as much as they do the small.
They try to make the most of every moment…
every moment of every day.
for they know their time together
is too precious a gift…to let it slip away.
For they have learned…in all the time they’ve spent together…
now that they are old and grayed…
It’s not the size of their memories that matters
It’s how many memories they’ve made.
Loyal companion
whose racing paws &
booming howl is heard before
she is seen.
A wonderful addition to a family
who’s known loss.
Grayed from the years, you still seem playful and spritely,
albeit a little fluffy.
I wonder if you’d remember me after all this time?
If you’d still excitedly greet me for licks, sniffs, and scratches;
the piece of a broken
relationship I miss the most.
** THE GLORIES NEAR **
Here! The Glories have arrived from
afar..as far as east from west.
The Glories come riding mists
To lead us leaping over our discontent;
over waves lost from their beaches,
their glimmers grayed,and moon sunken.
The Glories bring our maps to
The Exquisite: our longing, our desire.
But, the routes, so hard to decipher…
We are slow pioneers of the holy-All!
May the Glories set aflame our spines,
Running currents to thrill us up from
Our sleeping, our trances, our
Vagaries, so we may again seek and see…
———————————————————————————-
(c)sally young Eslinger 1/5/22.
Glory to God
An old man, grayed, glasses off
is praying at his soup.
A small apple and stale bread is near by,
his interlocked fingers are the proof...
That God does exist,
and his presence is clearly found;
By the quietness of the prayer,
and absence of all sound.
"Please lord bring peace,
to all I loved before.
Heal and bless them,
from every door to door."
With the ending of the prayer, the man ate his food,
One delicious bite at a time, in a spiritual mood.
Saturday, October 2, 2021
A dark veil
O'er eyes and ears
Have set phrases to stun.
Standards for me
Omnipotence for thee,
Tripping over
grayed limping liberty,
Crumbling to a blurry pause.
Trekking through a
Field of freedoms trampled,
Foraged souls
Appear and wilt
In the fiery smartphone snapped chat.
Hypnotized by systemic doping,
we await elusive belly tickles:
To resurrect us from our
collective nod.
Rained,
but it didn't become dark...
The birds fled from the sky,
the heat turned cold, the world clear
grayed out...
Me on my side of the world,
I didn't become upset...
Sans umbrella, the way I delight myself
i opened the doors of the world
i and went out to drink the storm...!
The sun’s become our enemy;
It’s something to avoid
And sitting without sunscreen
Can make someone paranoid.
In younger days we basked outside,
Reflectors set in place
To catch those rays, which guaranteed
A tan we would embrace.
But now the dermatologists
Give warnings we must heed –
With unprotected skin we will
Get cancer, guaranteed.
I’ll follow this advice
But it’s okay; since I have grayed,
I much prefer when I’m outdoors
Relaxing in the shade.
hyenas don’t laugh
for nothing…
wrinkled elephant skin
is grayed with preserving
purpose unseen…
the surviving strength
of fire ants—who though not
born black—have a pretty
good idea of what’s it like…
oh this may sound
like nonsense to you
with sensitized sense
questioning it all…
to me, it’s all
allegorical messaging:
give some thought
to a beehive
hanging from a tree…
We drove far to see you
After hearing of your condition
Still expecting to see the same jubilant, healthy, smiling,
God-praising man that we knew
But when we got to your room
I barely recognized you
Grayed hair sitting on your head and clinging to your face
Your body weight plunging to the lower parts of the scale
Only a trace of the man I knew
But then you smiled and gently touched my hand
And, I knew that cancer may destroy your physical body
But your soul was the same – filled with God’s holy spirit, kind, loving, and righteous.
At that moment I knew that
No matter how the tables turned
You WIN!
From grayed ashes you rose from the nest
Burns exposed through charred black dress
One last breath, one more death, laid to rest
Sins of an immortal soul, you chose to confess
Wings scorched and tattered, pinions burned
Determined to fly, a phoenix rises in the night
Though your grieving heart was again spurned
Rise, valorous Phoenix, rise and take flight
From cleansing flames your heart is reborn
Torn from smoldering embers, journeying on
your way...a withered rose, pricked by a thorn
Poor lovely creature, to ill fate you are drawn
Firebird of beauty, left for dead without feign
Fallen but never defeated, you shall never die
Over you, dark death holds no tyrannical reign
Rise, intrepid Phoenix, rise to freedom and fly!
March 21, 2021 ~ Phoenix Rising Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
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