Long Hibernation Poems
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There is an antique writing desk
in my little study
handed-me-down
from generations of would-be
writers in my family
And there are ancient creatures
from days gone by
living in this old desk still
evil, larcenous little creatures
envious of literary skill
This explains much
Lately, I have caught them unawares
aghast, thought I imagined them
but they are really there
surly, sinister, repugnant creatures
in my writing desk
There's a putrid little jerk,
called Pernishicus who lurks
behind the piles on my desk
glorying in the mess
a malevolent, grimy-mauve gremlin
Who preys on newly created works
stealthily spraying them
with foul feculence
as soon as I commence
my writing-
...Sometimes missing slightly
and tagging my hand
making it hard to stand
myself (much less my writing)
for days on end
Then there's a creepy
mesmerizing fiend
they call Spelbadger
a translucent thing, quite obscene
who shifts in the shadows and purrs
With dark eyes deep- constantly changing
like stones from mood-rings
set in his skull
he psychically bullies,
intimidates and muddles
until my poor brain
is worn and dull
And perhaps worst of all
is that one, Grumblesleaze
with pale, glowering eyes diseased
a gray-green, mangy looking thing
whose famous quirk
is that he has the gall
to grouse about my work...
As he viciously shreds it
then glunshing and munching
greedily devours it all
leaving no note
or trace of remembrance
of my past brilliance
behind
Oh, out of spite
he might leave a few
of my ill-penned
unfortunate lines
I planned to cut anyway
or pull my worst attempts
from the waste-can
and lay them out
to remind me of my failures
Yes, this explains much
For there was only one before
our one lone ancestor
who was able to write
at this desk prolifically
tapping out volumes rather heroically
'Though tiresome and tedious
dry history and drivel
which, no doubt, shrank and shriveled
and lulled these creatures off
to sleep for years
Until we woke them up
broke their hibernation
with more interesting stories
and imagination, colorfully crafted
ingenious, piece after piece
Clicking and clacking away
on typewriters, keyboards
generation after generation
of irritatingly gifted writers
disturbing their peace
it had to cease...
Life as of late has been a path I have not perceived that I would go along again. I thought that I was getting better then I ever have been before but now I see it it the other way around. I’m a sad pitiful excuse for a human being who isn't taking the full opportunity of life. Instead of going out with friends and living the time of my life, I sit inside slitting my wrist and worrying what the person I never talk to thinks of me. I’ve lost so many friendships if that is even what you can call them because I worried about how I acted around them and never realized thats why they liked me in the first place. I would always conform to the people I wish to called friends not know that I was just a pest to them that they were trying to avoid, I was so jaded as to wether someone liked me or not I didn't see the clear evidence that they didn’t. Even then I still try to conform for them as if they approval is as important as god to adam & eve. They promised me things, got my hopes up for months on ends knowing in the back of their head that it would not happen, it was as if I was just their little puppet on strings dancing to whatever tune they wished to play. I’ve been so focused on how my future would be that I never realized how shitty the present is for me. I got to these therapy appointments where they give me pills on pills telling me i’ll get better but always get told im getting worse. I only have myself to blame because I know I dont want to get better I just want for the pain and distress to be over in an instant cause when i work on fixing it the smallest things makes me feel worse then when I started. I’m sorry for being to be a weird, awkward, annoying person for I have not done anything to help your opinion of me to change, I just make it worse and worse. I dont know why I thought I would fit in with you if I cant even fit in with my own judgement of myself. I’ need to disconnect from the world and everyone in it as if a never ending hibernation that I only come out of once I’m accepted. You can think and call me whatever you like as long as you are honest I appreciate to know how I am an outcast to you that way I can hide it as I try to impress you with another pitiful attempt at giving you the friendship you have rejected in the past
-K
One time I asked myself what's so hard about being a child of Christ?
is it because I have to fight against the devil everyday of my life?
is it because I'm now saved and living sanctified?
or is it because I refused to sell out and I'm now rectified?
the hardest thing about being in Christ I would profess
is that after the first time, God requires another yes
when you say yes to God it's not a one time event
for it's only by His grace that you are even in His presence
to be a child of Christ you need to advance by little steps
and say yes to all He asks of you, if you desire to be His earthly rep
in the process of time God will tell you to have no fear
for when your well runs dry He will make water appear
for God won't let you thirst nor let you starve and die
He will always provide for on His word you can rely
when Elijah asked that widowed woman for some water to drink
she said yes, that's no problem, what did you really think?
but when he next asked for a little bit of bread
she said I only have enough for one last meal and then I will be dead
as a prophet of the Lord, Elijah wanted another yes
to see if she would commit to God and trust in Him to do no less
her first yes was only a very convenient gesture
but her second yes would have been a show of her true measure
sacrificial commitment and unselfish attitudes
are some of the things God requires of you
step out of your comfort zone
and sacrifice for the heavenly throne
many people tend to treat God like a tire that's a spare
kept in the trunk until we need it there
and when that tire gets us to our final destination
we remove that spare and put it back in hibernation
but God has a plan and He's not just a convenient device
He's the master of our fate and Controller of our lives
you don't really own anything for all you see belongs to God
always give Him another yes and give it from the heart
so when that widowed woman did as the Prophet Elijah did say
God then provided her with food for many, many days
Yes Lord, Yes Lord say it as often as you can
Yes Lord, Yes Lord I put my fate in Your righteous hands
Yes Lord, Yes Lord for You I can do no less
Yes Lord, Yes Lord, ALWAYS ANOTHER YES
I can see them
Clouds of voracity
Covering my stars
Shadowing my reality
These civilized consciences
Have raped my protest
Have spun my web
I can no longer pacify
The tenacious circle of hate
That daily haunts me-
The deprived race
What is it I longed to be
Where come this aggressive reticence
Why this intellectual lock-jaw
I longed to be an alcoholic
I longed to join in the ecstatic dance
I longed to leap into the unknown
To preserve my ancestral pride
Neither did I know
I had no ancestry
I belonged
Not to the human race.
I could no longer trade
That rotting corpse of ancestry
For a dream
Nor could my voice
Accentuated by gesture
Give sacramental significance
To the ailing corpse
I bled from my wounds
I choked in your bonds
I baked in your avarice
How infinite this unity
Of free slaves!
How therapeutic
This hibernation!
They preached brotherhood
Their god issued
Commandments of charity
Which they conveniently
Reserved for the virgins
The silent majority
These invertebrate disturbers of peace
Must always answer with a nod
To those honeyed phrases
Which phased out moral indignation
Only to usher spiritual aberration
The saints had to turn the other cheek
I resigned from imagining, designing
Protesting and even dreaming
Into the routine of living
Without emotional wavelength-
A kind of unconsciousness
What do you say, brother
Should we take flight to freedom
Flee this intellectual tyranny
And accumulated weariness
Should we indulge our consciences
Can one dream thus
Dream of the miracles
They craned their necks
Dream of the great darkness
The ends of the universe
Dream of the wonderment
Of transcendent realms
Is there anything beyond
This shadowy future
Is there another universe
For the spider?
I queried thus and thus
In my ice-age mind
Whereupon emanated
Vast ramifications
Spinning a web for me-
A universe
Beyond which loomed
Irrational extraneous universes
Was that a miracle
Was that nature
Were those her snares
Perpetually gnawing my reality
Could those questions be answered
With a nod- however studied?
Come individuality
Remove these tenterhooks
Let me leap into a new rhythm
Let me split the capsule
And witness how long
The trip of human triumph.
(Apartheid era stuff)
you are all a lost generation -- Gertrude Stein ?
I
Once hallowed encephalon
cavernous cerebral chasms
now less serene
ruptured n' spleen
Subjected to ravenous days?
Days n' illumination?
n' summers hibernation?
Awaiting eschatology and Madonna's divination
In summers somnolent slumbers I was told
In dreams of all truths and history's scrolled
and what a fair delication to unfold
truth rings from the shell aft each reeling beak's descent
Forsake of the shell's salty fleshes derivment
A fleshy flower buds on the briar
To pluck and dissect or leave to admire
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
Subjected to my piety in blinding ruth
did I in dreaming sin for sooth?
Had Queen Mab or Archimago
twist my thrice twisted dreams
with lies, abashing
and which in violence dance and beam
As waves with phosphorus' glow
they in guise clever crashing: gleam
false sooth, in golden pools of indigo
ever changing yet constant
As waves upon the shore
singing
Sometimes soft and melancholy
Sometimes malice, as to destroy
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
II
Oh my visage
how it pales in the light beside...
her
my madonna
my oracle my day
Darkness in its defined fray
and I Amidst a Yeats' Byzantine nightmare
to linger, to consist, to decay, an ill-stared heir
a doxology,
pregnant with heterodoxy.
Paling in comparison, in cavernous fright
days n' days and infinite blight
Static tremors. Intangible vibrations
Winter
Summer
Solstice
Hibernation
To seek what lay beneath
the countenance of the Madonna
the purity
The past I prospectively reap
n' seep
n' sow
The city's concrete catacombs glow
The future in night
day's abrasive
in its own right
reside in the day
confide in night
Rage, rage and endless blight
in dreaming escape day n' days of
a lifetimes endless death, in love
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
Dropping my heart to the level of oceans
Once reflected living in life and memories of adore,
Your hibernation drove my seasonal moods
And mesmerized my loneliness because
You were the only hope of those days,
With wich your height and width was unknown
Like the dimensions of the universe.
Every now and then when we met
Our countenance was very sweet,
With bright eyes we used to team
When longing for our amusing needs
And the love of our deeds,
The affair that was amid us caused the reality we wished
In our bond not to go dim
And none by comparison can run parallel to it.
We have exposed our lives to the bond of joy
Searching for better days like lunatic beings,
On the surface we remained overwhelmed with sorrow
As we longed to reach heights like flying sparrows,
With our love we used to ultimately resist
The challenges that came quick against
The prophecy of our dreams,
Such as the feeling wich felt to shake the need
And in every aspect drove us weak
By showing the power of words governed
Under the subject of our beliefs.
Remember up the ladder we were like the King and Queen
Punching my heart very sweet with your fist
And accelerating our love up the swings.
I went mad on account of our love
When the potion never called you
Deep to the level of oceans my love.
Your face glowed like shining dawn
You touched my heart like nobody could do
And so sweet like honeydew,
Even though all glitters are not gold,
My mission was strictly knotted to you
And our memories are luminous and old
Striking through mountains and valleys of the world.
Those distant stars,glowing and shooting ones
Reminds me of nothing other than
The ceremonies of loving you,
And now it's time for us to recall
Those sweet nothings and descriptions
About the art around your beauty.
We were not popular in our youth
But nature knew our love since childhood.
In loving memory, I am climbing the peak
And uttering out those dictums which are
Accompanied by the winds, down to the seas
To announce the dignity of loving you.
I hope that one day the chasm between us will break because
No man can stand alone in this field.
In a brilliant enchanted faerie forest, where deer were fed,
There was a mature, yet slightly miniature thistle bed,
Under shiny maple leaf completely opposite of red,
Was a tiny waif named Joyce resting her sweet empowered head
She had an independent streak, this petite, yet precocious mite.
Some people were afraid of her pure willingness to incite.
She questioned everyone in her village, with all of her might.
She let them know her opinions too, which were exceedingly bright.
She started with her parents, who role-modeled communication,
“Why? Who? When?” She would ask, “How can we get peace across the nation?”
She worked with some teachers, many who wanted reunification.
Pulled out community leaders, and neighbors, some in hibernation.
She advocated for the downtrodden, the unrepresented, and the oppressed.
“I’m here to help you fix the forest,” she answered, with understanding and finesse.
“Let’s listen to her,” the forest king said, “A child can help us clean up this mess.”
“Okay,” the committee agreed. They were all feeling exasperated and stressed.
She gave them her fantastic ideas of ruling the people by giving them a choice.
Some were dubious, irritated they had to listen to a knowledgeable elf named Joyce.
“Children still know how to follow their hearts,” the Forest King said. His amber brown eyes were moist.
The room hushed, and a corpulent engineer named Beau brought in a giant purple and pink hoist.
Joyce lifted high stood proud and tall, and spread her beautiful silver and gold translucent wings.
As she spoke the truth, her parents smiled and her credit-taking teachers began to sing.
Remember we are here to do our best, to inspire each other to really shine with zing.
“So be kind and gentle, thoughtful and good; and our amazing village will really be something!”
Yes, a child turned the whole village around; because the elfs and faeries knew to listen.
If you are really quiet in a garden on a summer day, you might catch a glisten.
Faeries are drawn to those who selflessly help, inspire, and love others.
If you don't believe me, go to the one who knows all. Pick up the phone and dial your mothers.
Why do you tell me what you think I want to hear?
Why do you keep me hanging on...
So long after you have gone...
Knowing my heart will only continue to break,
As it has done for all this time we've been apart?
I am unable to move on;
To forget the past,
To start anew...
Because when I see you or hear your voice
It is still so clear to me that you should be mine.
My love at times has gone into hibernation;
Sleeping so peacefully, I can almost forget it is there.
I may find a brief interlude or distraction
Which, however sweet at the time, only postpones the inevitable...
As I will eventually awaken, missing you and loving you all the more.
How can two people be so close, even now, yet not touch?
You have invaded every part of me, even my soul.
I still remember those days in the not too distant past,
When we shared each others' dreams and hopes...
Joys and sorrows...bodies and beds...
If only you would just tell me to go...maybe I could.
To hear those devastating words come across your lips
May be my only hope of a life not being held prisoner, doomed to hopeless pain.
The words you speak could be the key that unlocks this hold you have on me;
To the cell that holds me captive.
Maybe then, the truth would set me free.
That truth being, you don't want me...and we will never be together again...
Not in THAT way...the way we used to be.
For all you feel for me now is the love of a friend;
The closeness of having shared so much, for so long.
Why then, do you tell me you are not happy?
You made your choice. You moved on, found another, married her.
Why do we constantly run into each other? Am I to believe it is Fate,
Thumbing it's nose at us for not following through with God's plan?
Or is that same Fate setting our paths again on that previously unachieved
destination?
Stop telling me you still care, that you are with the wrong person, that you miss me.
To do so only gives me a firmer grip on that thread I'm holding onto and holding on
by...
For as much as I want to hold on...
Even more, I need to let go.
So, just once, tell me what I DON'T want to hear. I beg of you.
Form:
When you sang, dreams croaked, then you ceased to be a volcano,
It was simpler to become a rock, not letting yourself be unraveled by the waves of myopia.
After seasons died in your arms, resigned to your cold might,
You questioned if perhaps all flowers tear their petals in vain for you.
You were left emptied of greenness, a vast void where echoes can't return,
You've lost the appetite for light and horizons, a crownless tree in the purple twilight.
Oh, how you wished to remain the same old fir, clutching a world of rays to your chest,
But you let the day slip into night, you departed to become the leaf you await to fall.
Nymphs in chorus called you to shout again, for the wind to blow in your blue day,
But you stayed silent, and in your silence the tear of the sea extinguished in a fist of foam,
You feared the equinox that doesn't come, the persistent remembrance of a song once drawn,
And you feigned your existence into a white beginning of hibernation, like a silence before a revelation.
Do you believe that once you bloomed, the storm can't break the branch that holds you?
You stopped being the barbarian that made the echo in the mountain laugh at itself,
And in exchange for smiles, a sad pass settled on your face, casting long shadows,
An unanswered question that floats above you, a flight that no longer knows how to reach its destination.
Ah, you’ve lost her, that fearless bird that used to scent the filters of your soul!
You've ceased your word, halted the depth from caressing the root of the sky.
You've forgotten the whirlwind that lifted you above the world, and now you search for meaning,
You are a snail without a shell, feather without flight, a ripple without an ocean, a sky without a constellation.
Is waking harder? Is oblivion gentler than the sweet pretext of remembrance?
You wonder why the stars do not answer your indescribably late call,
The road back seems too long now, legends speak of new beginnings, barren horizons.
Slowly but surely, you lost it... in a pass of slippery fog over your world,
Now you are the slave to your own echoes, seeking a mirror in me so you can breathe once more.
In my dreams, sitting by the fire, listening
To the sigh of winter’s whispering
Just beyond the window, a mystery
Breathing laughter through the heavens
In stars, shimmering messily, like they
Know what it is to be glowing just beyond
The reach of the sun, in the shadows
They erase every doubt with their brilliance,
Shining in echoes, inspiring prayers
I know the meaning of whimsical
As my paw presses wistfully against the miracle
Snow falling, flakes glistening in the distance,
Reminding me that, even in winter –
Beauty from His blessing tree fall over the earth,
Silencing the doubts that linger in autumn
When all around, trees are losing their hope,
And dreams start their early hibernation
Like me, feeling the weather’s chill, the still
Cool winds and storms, the season
That brings me into a deep sleep is the same
Season that brings me such sweet peace
It happens just after the snows begin,
When the gentling of rainfall has changed
From dripping liquid to drifting, gliding, glistening
Graceful flecks, like music notes, coasting
Aimlessly – wandering over the mountains,
Across the meadows and, sometimes even
Through the entrance to my abode, the cavity
In the mountains, surrendering to me…
A home…
Where the deep sleep has brought me
From the dark days of winter into the serenity
Surrounding this wistful piece of nature’s
Reflections into what only God could have stirred
In the heart of an animal as wild and eager as I,
Taking me from the desolation of winter’s bitter cold
Into dreams that forsake every storm with a kindness
Only found in the rich life of a dreamworld,
A dreamland where my heart is inspired, my soul
Delighted by the imaginings of an early spring,
The reminders that tickle me awake some days…
As I forget the winter and evoke the image of spring
Because it is true – that in every life –
Winter is not forever and my slumber, though
Pleasant, will not last either…
Afterall, just like you – bears like Spring
sunbathing too!
Winter is not Forever Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
January 21, 2023