Lying on the battlefield, stunned by a near death blow
He was woken by fetid breath, cold as the new fallen snow
He felt the sharpness of the teeth, pain exquisite, so bright
He was slipping from this world, when a bolt came through the night

Blue flame surrounded him, and he heard the hammer fall
The "god of thunder" had heard... a true, great warrior call
The vision of that horror, a thing that was of the night
Was limned, struck down and blasted, from his very sight

Opinions form before words
they swarm every syllable
subjected to recourse the
hollow hoarse, what else
of course.

Reasons fall victim to treason
upon any plinth that shatters,
the faithful rally not now
don't dilly dally.

The brave never behave
fame etched here on the
grave, remembered in verse
departed yet still belong.

I digress at your behest
my time in passing I won't
invest, subjected but none
the less beyond the intersection
of interaction may well detest.

Deprivation

Deprivation
Is the sperm,
For poetic emotional creation,
Without which there can be
No procreation.

Two are needed,
One a sperm
Another
An ovum
And
In creativity your are
The natural sperm
And
Mind, is your ovum

brush the rain
that draws
the light
in beads

the steam
on the glass

radiator growling
and the television
fills the emptiness
and chases
darkness into corners
and under beds

I wait forever
for tommorrow
and falter in ruins
I have cast

and I think of
the cedarline
cold rains
that fell

and where you
are in memory
and in my heart
where you dwell

The undressed oaks of winter
Stretch their fingers to the sky,
Contemplating autumn's end,
And sharing silent wintry cries.

Brown leaves have faded to the ground
And back again to dust,
Breaking underneath my feet,
Veiled beneath the frosty crust.

They stand helpless in the bitter cold,
Some bent from ancient storms,
Keeping watch in winter's twilight,
These majestic, dormant forms.

,

but you started it
yes of course I did my friend
I always do.

,

                                  REFERENCES:
 Inspired by the Norse Myth: Sif's Golden Hair: How Loki Wrought mischief in Asgard. (compilation: The children of Odin Padraic Colum 1920) Source: Sacred Texts Archives @ sacred-text.com  Many different compilations to choose from, great resource for inspiration. Kat                            

Those Blasted Jeans

Who so ever invented jeans
For women
Had never had one
The whole day
They now compare the gait
Some have even outdone men
When they capture powers
Man feels with undone zippers,
Like they appear out in the open

But as the sun decides to wrap up,
Come the gals home
That’s when about them
Guys, hubby’s, boyfriends roam.

Down with the jeans they say,
Come let’s play
That’s the only way
They can their manliness display

Each instance of existence
is the truth of my reality,
fleeting moments riding high
on spreading waves of past
into all futures.

I am not made of past,
for as new moments
turn to then, it dies;
I am not future,
nebulous, undreamed of
by new choices not yet made;
I am neither then nor when,

I am this now,
immediate in present,
a life upon the cresting apex:
behind me, withered and forgotten past,
before, bright chaos undefiled by choice...

White bed within four white walls
Tied to it or else she falls
Greenish robe, white wisps of hair
« Have you seen my teddy bear?»

Fed by tube and countless pills
None alleviate her ills
With slurred speech and vacant stare
« Please bring me my teddy bear »

« Enough of these diagnostics
My conditions you can’t fix
He should be right over there
My best friend, my teddy bear »

« Saw him just the other day
He should not be far away
Did you look well, everywhere?
For my darling teddy bear? »