archetypical apple

 

What strange poison

did woman reach

for in the garden?

 

mother of all living bit into death for all

 

Was it a stinging tree

that touched her with

heart-shaped leaves?

 

intoxicating nature of toxic relations

 

Was she anesthetized

by curare-tipped dart

from satan’s blowpipe?

 

it can kill as easily as it can cure

 

Would eve even

succumb to snakeroot,

from salesman selling herbs?

 

fruit to make wise and pleasing to eyes

 

Would she suspect

the seeds of lovely apple

convey hydrogen cyanide?

 

seed of deception is sin, fruit of sin is death

 

 

 

 

true blue salute

 

former navy pilot unpacks

fond memories of his days

ordered in pristine uniform,

life aboard aircraft carrier.

 

forever alert, he still scans

ocean-blue expanse of sky

beyond white-sand islands

of floating cumulous puffs.

 

reminisces one shining hour:

officer’s personal invitation

to test-flight new jet fighter,

before honorable discharge.

 

accelerate to pure freedom;

loop-de-loop clouds, swoop

between sapphire skies and

cerulean sea, defy gravitas.

 

reverie reverts, retiree points

up – “those clouds look innocent

yet pose real threat to pilots;

may harbor hail, wind shears.”

 

in worn-out lawn chair, he bird

watches as sleek indigo swallows

swiftly cruise from barn hangar

to sail into loyal-blue heavens.

 

Clouds_over_the_Atlantic_Ocean

photo: wiki commons

 


A memory my 82 yr. old father shared with me while staying at our house this summer and linking with dVerse poets OLN in response to De’s “blue” prompt.

cemetery guardian

 

img_3561

St. George’s Cemetery, Bermuda

Near white sand beach,
inside the old church yard,
I stand watchful guard over
earthly body of departed child;
another angel, in human form,
who visited briefly here to be
caught in a rapid blue riptide.
I can only offer marble blooms
and silent stony vigilance.

Come visit the small grave
and cry on my empty arm,
broken from reaching; touch
my clipped wing, fractured
by gathered years of sorrow.
But even as heaven’s stars
gaze, I know the sweet spirit
has taken flight, like red scent
of hibiscus on ocean breeze.

 

Link to dVerse Poets Pub where Lillian is hosting a “chiseled conversation”…the photograph above is hers!

the accident

Linking to De’s prompt at dVerse on enjambment

(Enjambment occurs when a phrase carries over a line-break without a major pause)

If i remember right,

his grandfather told

story of when

they were filling

barn loft with

hay crop of

rectangular bales in

clutches of six, hung

from clawed

bale hook swung

from hay wagon up, up, up

in-to

loft’s massive open

door,

slide creeeaking toward back of

loft and released with a

jerkkk

when close to position of men stacking

bales (by hand) inside barn.

Metal framed hooks hung from

pulley on cable while entire

mechanism was

operated by horse power;  this day’s

chosen

 beast of burden was

neighbor’s loyal work horse, well-trained to

obey master’s voice commands.

They had un-loaded

a few clutches of hay bales when some-

thing terrible,  when some-

thing went terribly

wrong…

The horse, wearing blinders,

un-expectedly sidestepped, shying

in fear from un-certain threat, whether

dog barked,  kitten scampered, or

barn swallow

swooped,

that horse jumped off path, over low curb of wide

shallow well, covered by light lumber;

the now terrified animal’s weight

broke through

boards…

men watched helplessly as it

f

e

l

l

down  into

the  w

e

l

l

and drowned.