Down Pembleton Road

There lives a mystery down Pembleton Road,
Where it makes its abode with stools of toad,
And ever thick fog hanging low over its bog
That brightest light cannot penetrate —
Tis always night and filled with blight —
And you ask, what lives there but a reprobate,
Some deformed shadow lurking all around
Under naked tree branches so you hardly see,
But you know it lives in dark as thick as brick,
And that it’s been there long before the street,
And it has no name but it has staked its claim,
And no one is welcomed on Pembleton Road,
But the unwary move in some times, at least,
Until the pet-beast craves another meal
And, thus, seals the doom of strangers,
Who seemed oblivious to the curse, and so
Now find there place in the back of a Herse,
That is, if there is anything left to bury . . .
And this is the only time it makes merry
With cackling laugh that can only be heard,
Never seen . . .
There lives a mystery down Pembleton Road,
One undiscovered but still known all too well,
And at a short distance chimes the church bell
As if to punctuate this evil on Pembleton Road


On the Night Train

What cargo do you carry as you come barreling through?
Is it good or ill to seal my destiny desperately or in ecstasy?
What passengers ride along and do they belong to the night
Or to the light? Are they kind enough to mind themselves?
And do you bring grain for the hungry soul or only pain?
Nothing is plain to see in such numinous rain; it’s insane!
But, then, what should one expect . . .? It is the night train

Something Has Changed, Something Strange

Something has changed inside you, something strange
Over the whole range of your person, now rearranged,
Yet you smile the same way and walk through the day
Just as you always have, but it’s as if you have cried
For the last time and somehow have now died inside;
So as we walk side by side now and talk as we have,
There is only your shell, your inner-well has run dry;
And try as I might the sight is not the same, not really;
You are present, persisting in existing, but with no life;
Is this just the gyration my imagination, or is it true?
Did your spirit finally break for the sake of survival?
And is there is no hope of revival? Are you living dead?
Something has changed inside you, something strange;
Yes, something vital has changed you are not the same


Eyes sting
Ears ring
Black ravens sing


Spirit ages
Face rages
Devil turns the pages


Soul urges
Heart purges
Ghost plays dirges


Mind thinks
Psyche blinks
Wise owl winks


Body falls
Anger stalls
Rancid rat crawls


And eyes sting
And ears ring
And black ravens sing . . . again

Note: My fellow-blogger and friend, Tanya Cliff, penned another “vers l’avant,” the type of poetry read above, and inspired me to do the same. Thank you, Tanya! This was an invigorating challenge and fun!

Singing Hallelujah

Razor sharp edge cuts clean through the pledge
And alleges love while I lie bloodied on the floor
With the door wide open as an overt invitation
To leave without mention or excessive attention
While you bring white dove to sing ‘hallelujah’

Traveling at the speed of light love takes flight
In dead of night with nowhere to lay my head
But nothing is said about what we once shared
And how we bared our two hearts, part by part
I only know the black crow that sings ‘hallelujah’

And grace sways above me like some mighty tree
And I can see the glow but can’t touch the flow
So low I lay from the blow struck from far below
And I know this is the end and bend in humility
As my soul burns as I learn to sing ‘hallelujah’




Bid Farewell to Your Monster

Does the monster wander back to try to conquer,
To conjure up fears like a stalker from your past?
Even though you have commanded him to leave?
Stand strong, reprimand and demand the demon
Never return; be brave; allow your heart to burn!
Remember that the monster has no right
To cause you fright or to blight your day!
He has no place in this space you call your home;
He has no authority nor any priority in your life;
He has no power over you to tower o’er the soul;
Be finally done with him, then, and let not his sin
Any more room in your heart again to tear apart!
Make him to hear your clarion call
To have him gone once and for all!
Be rid of the demon as you bid your final farewell!
Say your final ‘goodbye’ to the nefarious monster!

In the Deep of Darkened Keep

In coffin dark and deep I lay,
Awake to know and in dismay
As two lovers hover and play
And say, ‘I love you, too,’
Never aware that as I stare
Into darkness, I hear and fear
I shall never receive affection,
My heart in dejection,
My spirit in rejection,
My life but a reflection
Of the death of lovely dreams
In the rich cream of romantic
Aspirations before stagnation
And then horrid damnation . . .

But then the wind still blows
Over the earth, place of birth,
And she sings some silly song
About where I really belong:
In arms of love from above,
Yet while I am here laid low
In black coffin deep keep of
Numinous burial, no aerial
Sight – fright holding heart –
And all fight is lost and gone,
But still she sings and brings
Me wings to fly into the sky,
If I will but believe
And receive her gift

death-557025__340And her hand reaches to lift
If I will but sift thru thoughts
Of depression and impression
That led to repression of soul;
Ah! then might I be finally free
To walk and talk and truly see,
Leaving behind toxic debris
Of a life lived underground
Where love-sound was heard
Like chirping bird, yet unseen?
Might I now arise
To claim my prize
Of but one ‘I love you, too?