"A YEAR OF SUNDAYS" - SUBMISSIONS - May 2023

[Michael Pendragon]

Start posting!

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Start posting

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Time An Enemy

Table set for two/one.
You're sitting there but silent,
aroma of a dish doesn't reach
but the aroma of disdain
fills the air.

Same place the ice cream giggle
and sticky lip kisses ended the night.

Same place mail delivered and opened.

"Look who sent us a card." I'd say

No cards today, everyone catching the scent
of dissolve.

So we sit in silence playing with food
like children pretending to eat.

I did, now I don't,
my tears rinse the dishes.

Edward Rochester Esq.

[Michael Pendragon]

My first poem was inspired by the title of a Leonard Cohen song:

A THOUSAND KISSES DEEP

A thousand kisses deep, and deeper still
Where words have no more meaning than the sound
Of rippling water in a woodland rill
Or apple blossoms dancing to the ground
On April breezes ripe with robinsꞌ songs.

A thousand love songs stolen from the moon
Stir in my heart with every secret smile;
Each longing glance serves to enhance the tune
That swells in starburst strains set to beguile
My soul to seek the soul for whom it longs

To find a love that angels fear keep
A love that runs a thousand kisses deep.

-- Michael M. Pendragon

*****


SPRING FLOWER

To know the rapture of an April flower
With sensuous sinews stretching in the sun,
To breathe her perfume for a breathless hour,
Behold as button-blossoms are undone
And petals open like an outstretched hand.

To trace those petals with a loverꞌs touch
That trembles at the beauty in its grasp,
While vibrant tendrils twine as tho to clutch
These wanton fingers in a tighter clasp
And bind my heart to beat at her command

To lose myself in meadow-blossom bliss,
As lips press petals in a fervent kiss.


-- Michael M. Pendragon

*****

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

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1999


My mother died,
walking past the Hallmarks
and plastic wrapped flowers,
I’m reminded that 1999
was the last time I looked
for that funny card
or chocolate box.

No need now --
What was once a guilty chore.
is now an empty day.

You’re remembered,
dreamlike, as if you never happened --
time erases your pretty face and smile.

Happy Mother's Day.

Edward Rochester Esq.

[Ash Wurthing]

PERCIPIENCE
It's the twilight of which wise men scry
for they have given half of their worldly sight
for enlightenment to shed some insight
on what the words upon the wall decry
~~Ash Wurthing

[Ash Wurthing]

(revision to original)

PERCIPIENCE
It's the twilight of which wise men scry

for futility has dimmed their worldly sight
such a terrible price for enlightenment
to fruitlessly shed some insight
on what the writing on the wall decries
~~Ash Wurthing

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:

> Start posting!

Photograph

Too freeze forever the random blink
half smile, or hair caught in a wind's desire --
you shudder in disbelief a shutter catching
the oddest moment when all that was desired,
was the perfect smile.

The camera eye captures the best or worse,
the child's anguished cry, the dog's odd exposure
or private moments, forever viewed
from the Oak mantel, all dated, archived moments
of life halted, warts and all, a voyeur Nikon,
dismissing perfection to present milli seconds
of candid life.


Edward Rochester Esq.

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Start posting!

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The Great Experiment


We cheer landing on Mars,
a small leap considering the vast universe --
not long ago over at Kitty Hawk
we cheered a short lift off the earth,
a determined struggle against
gravity that keeps our feet firmly planted
but rootless next to the Sequoia,
with its tangle of roots assuring
the stand against all odds.

Cement and brick seemed to be an answer
for that rise into clouds, though bombs
became the answer, leveling the field
of who dominates, wide open to discussion.

We marvel over the wonders of the world
our brains running on twenty percent, the rest
as barren as the great deserts where perish confronts
without a simple sip of water.

Our span remains at seventy/eighty years,
longer brings the onslaught of infections, disease,
bones becoming brittle, inhalation more a struggle
than easy reflex, but longevity beats a dog's ten/fifteen
years of wagging a tail and fetching the stick --
man’s best friend indeed.

We remain barbarians, produce implements
of slaughter, till death do us part stretching beyond
the altar and promise to love, honor, obey
to a faceless leader then a lawyer to dissolve
a union never meant to be.

Some make it to the golden years where prescriptions
await, labeled for ease of reaching the next year while all along
forests remain and floods remain, after the first experiment
of mankind died out with the brontosaurus and winged pterodactyl.

Mankind struggles at traffic lights, fights over
the freshest oranges, ques up at the box office, our heroes
mixing with popcorn and Dot candy but beware
there are those out there wanting your wallet, swinging
a blade after it buttered morning toast.

So, we landed on Mars, celebrate our short hop
into infinity, maybe enjoy a Mars bar we've eaten long ago
while trying to catch a glimpse of the flesh sitting
close by in the old Ford turned living room couch
or perhaps a star-lit bedroom on wheels.

Artificial Intelligence has always been, one quick peek
at nature can tell you that, celebrate your days but never think
mankind is at the top of the ladder, we still grunt for supper
no matter the fine linen, the gold chalice, for we still walk past
the tin cup, we still watch mayhem as the home run is swatted
out into left field -- Kitty Hawk once again before the bounce
back to earth.

Edward Rochester Esq.

(Have fun, Michael)

[Michael Pendragon]

MAY

May comes to me with cherry blossom smile
While tufted titmice lift the voice in praise
Of one who walks in orchid-scented style
To warm my wintered heart with sun-gold days
And greengrass carpets soft as kittensꞌ fur.

She wends her way down winding country lanes
Where rhododendrons and wisteria vie
To crown her brow, while dandelion manes
Release their honeyed splendor to the sky
Beside a brook whose giddy waters purr

A joyful hymn, then glimmer on their way
Lost in the budded-wonder of the May.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

THE PIPES OF PAN

The pipes of pan blow soft across the glade
Like echoes from some long-forgotten time,
Their hollow chambers waft a serenade
Whose haunting strains float through the trees to climb
Above the clouds in search of ancient days.

I listen to the tune the piper plays
And feel my heartstrings tighten with each line,
Then tremble as my thoughts incarnadine
In memory of the lovemad satyrꞌs crime
That damned them both to play loveꞌs mournful tune.

A million miles away behind the moon
The ghost of Syrinx heaves her plaintive sigh,
I hear her in the piperꞌs tune and cry
For one Iꞌd loved, and lost, too soon… too soon…
And beg the gods that they might let me die.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

-------------------------------------------------

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

----------------------------------------------------

Silent Nights

You row against tides and wind --
steady is the struggle which becomes
filled with yesterday thoughts of
of neon, dance and dizzy,
no crown of thorns,
no burlap bag filled with fishes,
just a stumble over puddles
as the faithful look in wonder,
‘he walks on water’ they cry,
grabbing the garment pleading forgiveness,
but fooled they are
when neon calls again to the faithful
and the offering brings a cold one;
saved one more time, looking outside
stained glass windows of self-reflection,
while looking inside yellow cabs
filled with pretty angels stuck in traffic.

Edward Rochester Esq.

[NancyGene]

Practice
by NancyGene

He’s yesterday’s news, I told him that.
I gave my cruel speech then, tit for tat.

I’m better off now, I’m not star-crossed.
I’ll heal but remain, the girl who’s lost

All loves through misdeeds, but cannot lie--
It hurts less each time I say goodbye.

[Ash Wurthing]

Here hope will be held nevermore
Here where dreams have gone to die
Mournful whispers and soulful sighs
Now merely echoes of memories forevermore
~~Ash Wurthing

[Michael Pendragon]

THE MAY QUEEN

On May Day young girls wash with morning dew,
Twine primroses and gorseflowers in their hair,
To form a faerie court for one most fair --
The Maiden, flower bride, with eyes sky-blue
And cornsilk tresses bright as noontide sun.

They deck the trees with marigolds and shells
The wishing tree, the hawthorn, ash, and oak,
Leave milk and honey for the faerie folk
And Beltane cakes from where Cailleach dwells
In nightdark woods where Winter rivers run.

Then merry meet adown the mead
Where rowan vies with yarrow weed
To trim the Maidenꞌs gown;
Where Flora waits the Green Manꞌs smile,
May Eve, when Brightfire flames beguile
Her sky-blue eyes beneath her floral crown.

I wipe a teardrop from my eye
Remembering the Mays gone by
When love and I were young;
While peeking through the newborn night
The faeries tip-toe into sight
To whisper blessings in their Sylvan tongue.

Then ring-around the blazing fire
The damoisels and fays conspire
To battle with the moon,
While young men sing the Maidenꞌs praise
And pledge their troth till end of days
Then bind it with an ancient witching rune.

Then lo! The Green Man takes the May Queenꞌs hand
And leads her to her blossom covered throne;
He tells her of the hidden things, unknown
To all save bards of Oberonꞌs dark band
Who wrap their visions in a nightbound dream.

The moon and stars, hers to command
She bids her loyal subjects stand
And sets the pipes to play;
Then round about the Brightfire so
The skyclad dancers come and go
To welcome in the merry month of May.

Cloaked in my robe of midnight ꞌneath the stars
I watch the nightꞌs festivities alone,
For in my heart I know my May has flown
Like love songs from a gypsymanꞌs guitar
Lost in the echo of a candleꞌs beam.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Start posting!

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The Visit of Yesterday

Mom called and said he was dead
and I said, "That cannot be, I just talked to him"

"No, he's gone."

"But I just talked to him."

"Please come by."

Flashback:
a green garden turtle,
a small child's rake
but enough to pierce the shell
and his legs moved in slow motion,
one eye closed, the other
in a half close.

"He's dead", I thought,
from nothing more than a child's need
to hit.

"I'll be right over."

There he was, my father covered in white, dead.

We just had supper six hours ago
and we laughed about all the silly things
growing up.

I never did tell him I killed a turtle once,
with a silly child's rake.

He would have laughed it off, telling me of once killing men,
not turtles.


We never talked deep on realties,
death never entered the conversation --
always tucked somewhere inside.

I do know his father left the family
in his care, abandoned to a mere child.

My Grandfather ran, my father has now died.

He had taken what was offered and met the challenge.

I'll visit come spring, a new member
at Calverton.

Hopefully the turtle's soul is under the Forsythia
where I buried him, long ago.

Death is so final.

Edward Rochester Esq.

[ME]

[NancyGene]

Ilion
by NancyGene

Achilles won’t fight
Patroclus dons the armor
Don’t get dragged around

[Michael Pendragon]

EPIPHANY

I watched a tiny beetle scuttle across
a bare patch in my lawn, only to disappear
into a ragged mound of weeds --
its greengold body glistening in the sun.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

NIGHT FOREST

Tonight the trees stare down at me,
gather around me,
herding me in
much like a frightened lamb.

Black silhouettes framed by a moonbright sky,
penumbral giants from the dawn of time,
primordial guardians of a hidden world --
their black eyes penetrate my secret thoughts.

They whisper my name with gentle, rustling sounds
Though all the winds are still.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[ME]

[ME]

[ME]

[ME]

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:

> Start posting!
--------------------------------------------------------

Through the Days and Years


Today I went and washed off the humidity,
rinsed the mask, for tomorrow I still can’t
get a sandwich without covering half a face

Yesterday was Independence Day, finding ourselves
dependent on all wise words of those with charts
and swabs with added words from some, of forget all of that,
go frolic in the sea, gather as a swarm of gnats,
all will be well.

The line has been drawn down the middle of wisdom.

But hell, I’ve adjusted before, all my life, it seems,
letting out a notch in the belt, from school to drafted,
air raid drills diving under the desk and covering up,
hurricanes, school shootings, murder, mayhem,
assassinations, fatherhood, grandfather hood,
great grandfather hood, a mother and father’s inevitable goodbye,
all the things life can throw and now a virus that has altered
daily living throughout the world.

You say to yourself, ‘is it the end?’
but I said that when I had Poison Sumac,
when my art floated down the canal
to parts unknown, when my pneumonia killed
this past month of March and when I cried as youngsters
were killed sitting at their desks.

I’ve adjusted to the madness of the world
for there remains beauty in daybreak, flowers,
the seagull floating on air currents and poetry
where you can sit back and wander inside it all
with words.

If this is indeed the end, it has been one hell of a ride.

Edward Rochester Esq.

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

------------------------------------------------------------------

Add Bleach to the Screams
 
I asked the attendant if I could pick up the dirty sheets
at three.

"The tears will be easy to remove, the blood, more difficult, 
the fetus, well that should be reported."

“Do you know where a dumpster is?”

“In the back of Stop and Shop.”

"Nice, I need bread and milk,
kill two birds with one stone."

Edward Rochester Esq.

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

On Thursday, May 4, 2023 at 9:11:31 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Start posting!

------------------------------------------------------------------

What's Your Treat?

I'm sick of writing,
sick of pulling words
out of flesh and blood
sick of the never ending
thoughts of the ending
or the beginning.

So I'll do just one more,
one more I say,
till deep in the night --
the paper calls as a siren song
and I drift over
to warm the pen.

Poems are my whores
me, the pimp
and I'll shove them
in your face, on dark corners
or bus terminals.

You can turn away
or pay the price for
my Cadillac ride
of wanton lust.

For I'm my whores
best customer.

I'm sick of writing,
sick of not writing.

I'm doomed.

Edward Rochester Esq.
 

[Michael Pendragon]

DEEP NIGHT


You lie in bed with tired eyelids shut
Not quite asleep, but staring in the brink,
The yawning rift in time where dreams are cut
Like paper snowflakes.
Though too tired to think
Your thoughts keep turning back to little things
You said and did throughout the passing day --
Build mountains out of sealing wax and strings
Or fashion wings from chestnut twigs and clay.

Deep night when every weighted clock tick tells
A dead manꞌs tale of neverending years,
Of blackcat yowls and wicked witchesꞌ spells,
Of sightless shapes that know your darkest fears
And steal the tears that ease a troubled heart --
When shadows fill your lungs like heavy air
And bedclothes bear down on you; Midnightꞌs dart
Burns in your brain till you no longer care

To hang on till the laggard dawn returns
Dragging the sun in gilded funeral urns.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Michael Pendragon]

RABBITꞌS MOON

On fullmoon nights the rabbitꞌs furtive glance
And twitching whiskered greeting can be seen;
When Maytime blossoms bring thoughts of romance
Or Autumnꞌs frostbuds turn the leaves from green
To gypsy rags of scarlet, gold, and brown.

The rabbit winks and casts his witching spell
And moonbeams tint the night with silverꞌs gleam,
A couple races to a wooded dell
Their naked splendor stolen from the dream
Of Pierrot or wisps of thistledown.

The nightwind stirs the silent band of trees
That watch the loversꞌ tryst with knotted eyes;
The couple trembles in the midnight breeze
Each draws each closer with alluring lies
And blissful sighs that echo from the soul.

And as they lie entwined in loveꞌs embrace
The lunar rabbit smiles from above,
Adorns the night with hints of Queen Anneꞌs lace
To bless their mossy bed of stolen love
Till time is rolled up like a poetꞌs scroll.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[ME]

[ME]

[ME]

[ME]

[ME]

On Monday, 15 May 2023 at 05:22:43 UTC-4, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> PERCIPIENCE
> It's the twilight of which wise men scry
> for they have given half of their worldly sight
> for enlightenment to shed some insight
> on what the words upon the wall decry
> ~~Ash Wurthing

[ME]

[Michael Pendragon]

DEAD OF NIGHT

Deep in the second watch of night
When crickets quit and bats take flight
And dormice just beyond my sight
Scamper across the floor;
I close my eyes and lie in dread
Of midnight, when the restless dead
Rise up from their eternal bed
To walk the earth once more.

The shifting shadows sense my fear,
I count the seconds drawing near,
When from a steeple bell I hear
The midnight hour toll.
Then like a magic lantern show
The imps and goblins come and go
As fleeting as a candleꞌs glow,
As black as smithyꞌs coal.

But blacker than the fiends of Hell
Are demon thoughts I know too well,
Iꞌm caught fast in this witchꞌs spell
For evil things Iꞌve done.
I draw the covers round my head
And the curse the words Iꞌd left unsaid
Renounce the wicked life Iꞌve led
Thatꞌs left me here alone.

I hide my face and pray for death
To let this be my final breath,
But only goblins hear my prayer
And theyꞌre not going anywhere.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[ME]

[NancyGene]

Last Door on the Right
by NancyGene

Still the man struggled on through the wind and the rain,
which he knew had the power to drive men insane,
but he had to get back to the girl at the bar,
who’d been clinging to him since he’d mentioned his car

and was doubtful that he would return, and he prayed
he would find his way back but he started to fade,
as there were no streetlights and the landmarks were few,
and the lady would know he was long overdue,

but his eyes would not clear and his legs could not hold
his strained body upright and he fell hard and rolled
down the cliff to his death and his romantic doom,
and he simply had needed to use the rest room.

[Ash Wurthing]

To: that Abyss...

Darkness, silence and stillness,
that which haunts- and lurks within us
All the time you shadowed me, always hidden
I've never heard your voice, just an echo
of your emptiness, an apparition unbidden
Silent you lay in wait, upon fears you prey
And many fear, some imagine to lay blame
as your gaze touches their chilled soul
~~Ash Wurthing

[Michael Pendragon]

TO LIVE

To rise an hour or two before the sun
And shiver in the early morning chill,
Day after day, until your time is done
Year after year, day in -- day out, and still
You search for meaning in each newborn day.

To see the morning sun climb oꞌer the hills
Or catch a golden sunset in the west,
To chase a rushing river as it spills
Its crystal contents down the mountainꞌs crest,
Or lie beneath a willow tree and dream.

To feel the sunlight seep into your skin
Or raindrops running down your face like tears,
To touch an open hand, let love begin
And hold it as though for a thousand years --
Then watch it die like April flowers in May.

The daily disappointments, sorrows, pains
Are bitter draughts that only make the sweet
Seem that much sweeter; and when nought remains
But bodies bent like withered husks of wheat
We scan the heavens for a fleeting gleam

Of guiding stars weꞌd set our course upon
When first we ventured out in rags of youth.
But stars grow dim, and age knows just one truth --
Weꞌre only here a season and are gone.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[NancyGene]

Feline Still Life
by NancyGene

The mother cat dozed in the warm sunshine;
her kitten launched war on a jasmine vine.
The gap in the fence framed a fast escape
from humans and dogs who would chase and gape.

Their winter fur shed to a striped, gray thatch,
a smokescreen which lulled each night’s stalk and catch.
They slept through the day, uncoiled springs until
the shadows dropped down and they lived to kill.

[Edward Rochester Esq.]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Common Language

It’s a common language
that is shared --
soft mellow tones as sweet
as bird chirps reaching his ears
or perhaps the swirl of angry skies
drift out from exhalation
through pursed lips,
until the quiet, once again,
of a sunrise or moon’s glow
over a night’s cityscape.

It speaks to him,
an instrument of connection
where all resides in desired notes,
music speaking of love
or strife, an understanding
of common variables only heard
by himself, knowing
how to listen to ancient history
or modern day exploration
from a beloved Sax
that sits quiet until coaxed back to life

Edward Rochester Esq.

[NancyGene]

In the Bin
by NancyGene

All the things of your life--
treasures,
images,
styles,
events,
memories,
writings,
ashes--
no one else wants
after you die.

Some are discarded,
most are forgotten,
and you and the remainder
are boxed up for disposal.

[NancyGene]

It’s Such a New World, I Sometimes Hate It
by NancyGene

Girl friends,
boy friends,
all friends,
he/them,
guess who?

Tell truth,
hear lies,
all good,
good’s bad.
Don’t tell.

Kids shot,
wars fought,
hate thoughts,
vote bot,
law less.

Priced high,
forced out,
dead right,
wrong place,
this time.