"A YEAR OF SUNDAYS" - SUBMISSIONS - September 2023

[Michael Pendragon]

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[Michael Pendragon]

THE BLUE ROSE

Somewhere a rose of cobalt blue
Blooms by a woodland stream,
Kissed by the breezes passing through,
Lost in a lover's dream.

Far from the clutch of pick-purse time
Brief as a rainbow's end,
Teasing my soul with thoughts sublime
Always around the bend.

Love called to me one Summer day
Warm as a rose in bloom,
Love spoke my name, then turned away
Fleeting as rose perfume.

Somewhere a rose's petals fell
Blue as a Summer sky,
Life came along to break the spell
Letting love's flower die.

Somewhere a lover seeks a rose
Blue as a Winter star,
Gone faraway where no one knows,
Gone where the old years are

Rolled like the heavens in a scroll
Beyond the brink of night,
Hidden within a broken soul
Always just out of sight.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

****

[Michael Pendragon]

WITCHESꞌ MOON

Tonight the harvest moon burns red
And bathes the world in pumpkin spice,
She calls the Old Ones from their bed
With whispered words that run like mice
Across the sleeping land.

She hums tunes snatched from black cat cries
From gingersnaps and fenny snakes,
She sweeps the cobwebs from the skies
And smiles as the world awakes
To dream at her command.

Tonight in some forgotten glen
Her worshippers will dance in rings,
And hidden from the gaze of men
Engage in foul, ungodly things
As dragons eat the stars.

There in the moonlight's pumpkin glow
They'll call upon the Ancient names,
Then round about the bonfire go
Toss wicker scarecrows on the flames
To burn away Earth's scars.

Tonight the blood-red witches' moon
Looks down to cast her timeless spell,
Where dreams are tossed like scattered runes
Before the gates of Hell.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Michael Pendragon]

SUMMER PASSING

If I could only catch the fleeting hours
Turn back the callous step of Old Man Time,
Preserve the blossoms of the Summer flowers
That dance their parti-colored pantomime
Down hill and meadow like a gypsy band.

If I could only stay the laughing brook
That splashes joy across a woodland grove,
Press scents of fresh cut grass within a book
Lock memories in a secret treasure trove
With Summer kisses, seashells, grains of sand

And scattered moments when your windswept smile
Came home like sparrows resting on my brow.
If I could hold the Summer just a while,
Entwine it in an endless here and now
Like meadowflowers in a young girl's hair.

But Dawn sleeps later with each passing day
And August's roses wither on the vine,
The old man in the looking glass turns gray
As Autumn whisks away what once was mine
When crocus sang that Spring was in the air.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Ash Wurthing]

DEATH'S-HEAD EPITAPH

Your vanity has poisoned the waters
of the wishing wells you seek to plunder
Despite the cost of selfish blunders
no matter the battles lost, you wonder
why ego will be your hill to fall on
its sword, your shame is skewered upon
Your intentions held to be so swell
I will see them all in Hell
~~Aah Wurthing

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

My Life as a Butterfly
by NancyGene

I fly up, linger, flit, and flirt,
I cannot waste my wistful time.

I must mate soon and often now;
I have to lay my hundred eggs.

Come lie with me, my gentle Sir,
I smell of flowers, bathe in light.

I have two weeks of love to give--
You do not have to stay for long.

[Michael Pendragon]

EMPTINESS

There is an emptiness behind my eyes,
A mindless void where happiness and pain
Have no more substance than the cloudless skies
Where neither Winter tears nor Summer rain
Would dare to wash away the somber grey
That paints my world a barren, lifeless tone.

There is a constant chill within my heart,
A hollowness no love can hope to fill
Though Heaven sent or cast by blackest art
It beats against my breast against my will
To waken thoughts I'd thought to lock away
With murdered dreams and youthful passions flown

To somewhere far beyond the stillborn sky --
Some place where broken dreamers go to die.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[NancyGene]

Life Spans
by NancyGene

If we’re fortunate, we grow old.
We may die young,
Good or bad,
Or sell our souls
To the lowest bidder.
To die young is to end dreams.
To die old is to know disappointment.
To live forever is both.

[NancyGene]

Us
by NancyGene

Fully, only, all encompassing
Sears, devours, two lives tumbling
Apart, never, treasonous
You, me, no one else, us.

Scatter families, forge our own
Us, them, no overtone
Whole, together, consummate passion
Grand in love, nothing dare happen.

A glance, distance, a call, a sighting
Cruel answers, from you, uniting
More, words, beloved, bargains
Parting, lies, detachment hardens.

Over, ended, done, don’t care
A scene, a song, no, still there.
Deny, evade, accept, agree
You’re gone from us; us now is me.

[NancyGene]

A Time to be Grateful
by NancyGene

Would I be grateful to be born Christian
in a Nazi overrun country?
Did I win the wheel of fortune spin
so no armband need be worn by me?

Everyone shows gratitude after the fact
but not while evil is extant.
Who fights back at the first contact
and doesn’t let tyrants ferment?

It’s easy to be grateful when others die
while doing the fighting for us
Shouldn’t we join in the battle cry
Long before we pardon the treasonous?

[NancyGene]

FULFILLMENT*
by NancyGene

I hold a satisfaction in my being,
A completion in my mind,
As if I were only now seeing
The greatest of good in mankind
And the brightest of hues
Which overlay my world of happiness.

I am warm with the love that wraps my heart,
Forever from you, forever for you,
And there is not a single part
Of me that does not want to shout to
The love-starved world the news
Of us and that God has blessed

Us with more than dreams could bring--
Not just sky or clouds, but Life’s everything.

*A companion poem to Michael Pendragon’s poem “EMPTINESS.”

[Ash Wurthing]

Parade

My heart raced,
more marching band
than muscle,
as a young boy
saluted his father's
procession
with the precision
of an honor guard's
rehearsed remembrance.

Another shattered
soul struck down
by madness -- the politician,
the preacher in the
cross hairs of twisted civility.

I was young then,
old now, as small children
become faceless and cries
of why still ring out
with no answer but leaving me
to believe a higher power
has closed its eyes
on a failed experiment.

~~Reverie

***Posted with author's permission. Ash posts for Ecthrois Grimm, Last Dance and now Reverie on AAPC, in AYoS only, since they don't wish to come here under the current conditions, but want their work posted to AYoS.***

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

AZRAEL

Come to my bed on wings of midnight sky
When candleflames burn low like dying stars,
And sixty years extinguish in a sigh.
Cradle my head and brush away the scars
Of sixty Summers, Winters, Autumns, Springs
So that my wicked soul might come to rest.

Grant me a kiss whose dark enchantment brings
A peace plucked from the Isles of the Blest,
As Aidenn's fruit returns men's thoughts to clay.
Gather my bones, like children, to your breast
And in a heartbeat, carry me away
Where thoughts lie stillborn, feelings unexpressed --

Adrift on ebon waves that have no shore;
Swept up in dreamless sleep forever more.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Ash Wurthing]

Battle

Yes, the night bites
at thoughts of permanent
goodbyes -- the final scene
rehearsed, though I've sprained
no limb -- follicles never rejecting
a single hair, the brow, smooth
as parchment, yet it stalks
vowing to win the battle
of stolen breath and last syllables.

The morning sun offers
a pardon though caution is advised --
one false move and the night
will become forever.

~~Reverie
**posted for and with the author's permission

[NancyGene]

The Happiness Thief
by NancyGene

He comes sneaking in through unlocked tears
And asks you where your lover is.
He then riles your calm and baits your fears
Of all the Hells you say are bliss.

You can never have a sense of peace;
He whispers, “What is wrong with you?”
You still listen and there’s no release
From scornful laughs and silent truths.

He will steal your life and rip your soul,
And you give up, all severed veins.
You will know your mind’s lost all control
To him when you seek love again.

[Ash Wurthing]

I do believe that I know this character...

[NancyGene]

He goes door-to-door.

[Michael Pendragon]

PUMPKIN SPICE

The scent of Autumn lingers in the air
With hints of ginger, cinnamon, and clove;
At 42nd Street and Herald Square,
On 8th Street, Bleecker, Christopher, and Grove --
Each crowded sidewalk, every crosswalk where
New Yorkers sip their pumpkin latte dreams.

The years run back to homemade pumpkin pie
That warms my spirit as the days grow cold;
And somewhere in some long-forgotten sky
I see your face in tones of burnished gold --
But men grow old, and memories fade and die
And life's not half so wondrous as it seems

When love was young and knew no greater bliss
Than tasting pumpkin spices in your kiss.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Michael Pendragon]

STITCHES IN TIME

She sews the stitches in the cloth of days
With cobwebs stolen from Arachne's loom,
Spins moments into threadbound photoplays
Binds years to years as cradles to the tomb
Then with a snip, her tapestry is done.

Yet every cloth is to another sewn
And each, in turn, is bound to many more,
A shadow show wove out of flesh and bone
With aeons laced to those that came before
By sinewed sutures older than the sun.

Each fabric has its fable to unfold,
A linen latticework of hope and fear --
And when her snip proclaims the tale is told
Her timeworn figures fade and disappear.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Ash Wurthing]

Vow

I tried
to grab at the mist –
it being the only thing left
of yesterday's 'I do'.

My faith remains
at the alters
of bitter whiskey –
a union meant to last
'till death
do us part'.

[Michael Pendragon]

BOHEMIAN YOUTH

We prowled the city streets like alley cats
From Mondo Cane, Blue Note, to Alcatraz
By Tompkins Square where strains of modern jazz
Spilled from the bars while bands of 9th Street rats
Dodged junkies, punks and hookers chasing thrills…

All dressed in black and decked in gothic frills
Like biker rings displaying grinning skulls --
We'd stop at Backfence, Scrap Bar, Café Wha?
Peculiar Pub, or laugh at the bourgeois
And sip espresso when the bars would close
At Café Yaffa, Borgia, Figaro…

We'd fill our cups, then fill them up once more,
Pontificate as though we knew the score --
Drank decadence that only youth can know.

We mocked the mores of the days gone by
Smoke cigarettes to thumb our nose at death,
Wrote hymns to sin, blasphemed with every breath
And vowed to spit into Jehovah's eye
When called for judgment at the Pearly Gates.

We argued Sartre, Nietzsche, and Camus,
Prayed to Ayn Rand, then raised a glass or two
To Dylan Thomas railing against fate
In White Horse Tavern, while the hours flew…

We thought our words would set the world askew
For we were young, and being young, we knew
Our thoughts were forged in Hades' fiercest flame.

But life went on exactly as before
And should we ever stand at Heaven's door
I doubt the gods will even know our name.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

Last September
by NancyGene

Last September, you lived and I was well;
This September, I’m sick that you are dead.
Were you sick before you lived?
Was I dead before I loved?

Last September, I cried for what was lost;
This September, you died and it’s not right.
You would tell me that you’re gone?
I don’t know how I should feel.

Next September, the world is unconcerned.
Fallen gold leaves will waft away to rest,
And no man can hold his place
While life’s seasons bury all.

[NancyGene]

Player Slayer
by NancyGene

He’s a player--
But I’m a player too.
Love Purveyor--
He knows not what he’ll go through.

I’m not purblind--
I know the ropes and spins.
Contacts aligned--
And that’s what I will trade in.

I won’t stay home
And wait for his return.
XY syndrome,
And never will he outearn.

[ME]

On Sunday, 3 September 2023 at 04:23:08 UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> THE BLUE ROSE
>
> Somewhere a rose of cobalt blue
> Blooms by a woodland stream,
> Kissed by the breezes passing through,
> Lost in a lover's dream.
>
> Far from the clutch of pick-purse time
> Brief as a rainbow's end,
> Teasing my soul with thoughts sublime
> Always around the bend.
>
> Love called to me one Summer day
> Warm as a rose in bloom,
> Love spoke my name, then turned away
> Fleeting as rose perfume.
>
> Somewhere a rose's petals fell
> Blue as a Summer sky,
> Life came along to break the spell
> Letting love's flower die.
>
> Somewhere a lover seeks a rose
> Blue as a Winter star,
> Gone faraway where no one knows,
> Gone where the old years are
>
> Rolled like the heavens in a scroll
> Beyond the brink of night,
> Hidden within a broken soul
> Always just out of sight.
>
> -- Michael Pendragon
>
> *****

[ME]

On Saturday, 9 September 2023 at 03:40:08 UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> WITCHESꞌ MOON
>
> Tonight the harvest moon burns red
> And bathes the world in pumpkin spice,
> She calls the Old Ones from their bed
> With whispered words that run like mice
> Across the sleeping land.
>
> She hums tunes snatched from black cat cries
> From gingersnaps and fenny snakes,
> She sweeps the cobwebs from the skies
> And smiles as the world awakes
> To dream at her command.
>
> Tonight in some forgotten glen
> Her worshippers will dance in rings,
> And hidden from the gaze of men
> Engage in foul, ungodly things
> As dragons eat the stars.
>
> There in the moonlight's pumpkin glow
> They'll call upon the Ancient names,
> Then round about the bonfire go
> Toss wicker scarecrows on the flames
> To burn away Earth's scars.
>
> Tonight the blood-red witches' moon
> Looks down to cast her timeless spell,
> Where dreams are tossed like scattered runes
> Before the gates of Hell.
>
> -- Michael Pendragon
>
> *****

[ME]

[Michael Pendragon]

SEPTEMBER DIES

September dies
In bursts of morning chill,
In fallen leaves
And sheaves of bundled grain;
Nocturnal cries
As nightbirds claim their kill,
While Ceres grieves
And Earth grows still again.

September dies
As geese cut 'cross the sky,
Black arrowheads
Hurled at some Titan's heart;
While Summer lies
With all the years gone by,
Awash in reds
Like blood from Autumn's dart.

September dies
As pumpkins break the vine
And brittle stalks
Of corn await the blade;
When weary eyes
Search heaven for a sign
And Jack Frost walks
Like death across the glade.

Then is the time
When old men gather round
To snatch at flies
Beside the parlor door;
Life's paradigm
Played out without a sound,
September dies
And Autumn comes once more.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[Ash Wurthing]

Day's End

So, September,
I'll not cry; seems
you've always said goodbye
this time of year, but you
remain the lucky one,
living again and again,
never knowing
you're bidding a final farewell

~Reverie

[Michael Pendragon]

BLACK CAT

He stalks the deep October night unseen
Through shadows and the spaces in-between
Down alleys where the rats run thick as thieves;
With yellow eyes and fur as black as sin
A crooked back that mocks the pumpkin's grin
He slinks in silence through the brittle leaves
That haunt the hidden paths each Halloween.

Some call him imp, or demon spawn of Hell
Twitching his tail to cast a witch's spell
On those who cross him 'neath a harvest moon;
A backstreet banshee yowling at the stars
Or mortals stumbling home from late night bars
Whose drunken singing interrupts the tune
He croons of things that dead men fear to tell.

He prowls the twisted backroads of my dreams
To fill my thoughts with dark, alluring schemes
That good intentions could not hope to match;
He howls his lullabies as stars grow pale
Strings incantations in a plaintive wail
As though he sought to conjure forth Old Scratch
With tortured notes that echo Hades' screams.

He walks where jack-o'-lanterns light the dead
On Hallows Eve when angels fear to tread
Between two worlds that meet this magick night;
The night is his, but when the night is done
He wanders home like Satan's long lost son
And as I wake to greet the morning light
He's curled up on the mat beside my bed.

-- Michael Pendragon

*****

[NancyGene]

With Love and Mutual Respect, Always
by NancyGene

I am the barghest which keeps you from sleep,
The hag who smiles at you on the street,
The spirit which leaps if you open your eyes,
The shape that lurks behind doors in disguise,

The monster who hides, not under the bed,
But in the basement and wants you dead,
The Oni who reaches your door and then pulls,
The werewolf who waits for the moon to be full,

The basilisk rising up in your back seat,
The killer of lambs, and you hear its last bleat,
The Bogeyman coming for you when you’re bad,
And your name is first on Old Scratch’s notepad.