Tag: Poetry

Darkness and Insomnia

Darkness and Insomnia

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(Image Art by Andrew Neel – Unsplash)

 

Darkness and Insomnia

By BR Chitwood

*

Sleep waits with me until

Insomnia might mercifully

Quit its nightly routines,

The tossing and turning

Becoming an unbearable

Stir of stupid body scenes.

*

How to position my hands?

My head? My legs? My feet?

My brain goes hither and yon.

The grandfather clock ticks

Off its steady pulsations

As thoughts pound on and on.

*

Now, I sit in my Lazy-Boy

Typing out my wariness

With words that rhyme.

My head begins to nod,

Drowsiness comes to tease,

Off to bed one more time.

*

Again, beneath the covers

My body comfortably in

Tune with my mind,

The damned cat pounces

On my naked form and

Decides it’s time to unwind.

*

A Restless Poetic Effort by BR Chitwood – October 4, 2019

*

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Darkness and Insomnia

(Image Art by Andrew Neel – Unsplash)

 <*****>

Darkness and Insomnia

By BR Chitwood

*

Sleep waits with me until

Insomnia might mercifully

Quit its nightly routines,

The tossing and turning

Becoming an unbearable

Stir of stupid body scenes.

*

How to position my hands?

My head? My legs? My feet?

My brain goes hither and yon.

The grandfather clock ticks

Off its steady pulsations

As thoughts pound on and on.

*

Now, I sit in my Lazy-Boy

Typing out my wariness

With words that rhyme.

My head begins to nod,

Drowsiness comes to tease,

Off again to bed I trod.

*

Again, beneath the covers

My body comfortably in

Tune with my mind,

The damned cat pounces

On my naked form and

Decides it’s time to unwind.

*

A Restless Poetic Effort by BR Chitwood – October 4, 2019

*

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Not To Be Again

Not To Be Again

*

Long auburn hair bouncing

In gay amusement

Upon sun-tanned shoulders,

So casual,

So impetuously serene,

So provocative,

And,

So delightfully tormenting

To a nascent longing

In her merry laughter and stroll

Along the tide’s ending wave.

Her white bikini so enjoys

Its rhythmic stroll

Along body curves

That sway in the breeze.

Ah, so much a Goddess

This creative design

Of a Deity’s brush.

I remember her well…

*

©BR Chitwood – September 30, 2019

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Hail, The Neon Beacon of Debauchery

(-Image art: Aziz Acharki – Unsplash-)

Hail, The Neon Beacon of Debauchery!

(Short poetic prose)

*

Hail, the neon beacon out ahead

Guiding, leading the man onward

Toward wakeful dreams aspired.

Hail, the beacon is subtle in its

Duality of promise and purpose.

Its laser flashes In frenetic frivolity to

Elixirs and forlorn witches of the night.

*

So, the shadowy evening passes hastily,

‘Last Call’ too quickly ends the charade.

Awaken, ignoble knight of no honor

To a brutal morn of rueful regret.

Face the gallows of vicious thoughts

Cascading mercilessly against the

Dull temples of intemperance.

*

The new sun gives way dimly to

A pitiable litany of remorseful chattel

And self-indulgent curses to the

Demons of meek, repentant mockery.

Meager, modest work efforts ensue,

A duplicate day of detritus, alas.

Then a misty miracle convenes:

*

Hail, the neon beacon out ahead

Guiding, leading the man onward

To yet another night of wistful witches.

Hail, The Neon Beacon of Debauchery!

*

©BR Chitwood – September 26, 2019

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Life

Life

Life cannot begin

Lest you live it!

Awaken your dreams

Get out of the pit!

Find value in you

Don’t seek it in me!

Look inward/outward

Set yourself free!

Awaken to sunlight

Though dawn be gray!

Expand your horizon

Give in to the day!

Create your mantra

To repeat on the go!

Steady your rhythm

Go with the flow!

Walk with sublimity

At a joyous gait!

Reach for the stars

Therein lies your fate!

At day’s end

Rejoice in your worth!

Finding love heralds

Your peace on Earth.

 *

Billy Ray Chitwood – September 9, 2019

*

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All That I Am

All that I am

+

All that I shall ever be

Was gifted by an Intelligent Force

Known to me by many Names.

I choose to believe God is my Creator

A name given through the ages

By far-reaching tribes and Kings.

+

Through generations our experts

Plan and Experiment with the toys

Of my Creator, my God.

Each generation forms their initials

On the great book of records

With repetition and yearning.

+

Reaching ever out for the Stars

Seeking a nebulous wisdom

Of the unknown and forbidden.

Some with Generosity and Grace

Some with Furtive Motives and Guile

To suddenly come to History’s Coincidence.

+

Repeating Righteous Rituals of Fools

Only to find Doubled Knowledge in

Mainframe Madness for Space and Beyond.

Whose flags will be stuck in the aeonian

Mud of Mars and other Galactic outposts

To begin Civilization all Anew.

+

Deities and Desires freshly grown

Ideas and Mockery of Spoils left

On a Cold and Deserted Mother Earth.

When doth come the final planet?

When doth all of Life not matter?

In the Great Collosus of Death, Perhaps!

+

Then, again, perhaps I return

In yet another Incarnation to amuse

And Confound my brothers and sisters.

Ah, but that is not so bad, methinks

If love is there as well to greet me

In the Piano Bar of my mind.

***

Billy Ray Chitwood – September 1, 2019

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Who Am I?

Photo art by Henk van de Goor (Unsplash)

 

Who Am I?

A mere presence of blood, bone and flesh,

Collecting restless moments of time and

Memories in a swirl of delusion and desire…

A damaged derelict recording with all the

Misspent nights of neon lights and wonder,

In Bacchus search of some nebulous Nirvana.

A casual fool of vacuous vector shaping images

Fraught with a dilettante’s dribble and dash

For a delectable dalliance in Delilah’s domain.

Who Am I?

A Mockery to the wise and worldly. A clown

Dressed in gaudy colors, shouting his foolery

To all who would listen in the Devil’s Den.

Who Am I?

Surely by now you must know me!

Who Am I?

Come, sweet damsel,

 join me in a drink,

 and I shall tell you all!

 

-Billy Ray Chitwood – August 12, 2019-

 

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Believe

©Believe

Believe in the miracles inside you,

Have faith in the God who shapes your dreams,

Walk tall, to yourself be true.

 

Abide obstacles strewn along your way,

The nagging naysayers of folly,

In confidence walk each day.

 

Should not your wishes find

Fulfillment at the journey’s end,

Look skyward with peace of mind.

 

You have given in honest measure

That most noble part of your tender soul

And, in reward, heaven’s treasure.

 

So, believe in wonders yet to be,

Passing through life’s many gates

On your way to eternity.

 

©Believe

 

©Billy Ray Chitwood – August 6, 2019

 

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The Aberrant Knight

Photo Art by: Thomas Kinto – Unsplash

 

The Aberrant Knight

 

There’s ‘a man’ I met in a book where his dream and thought became one, a place in his fertile mind where a noble nomadic fool chases imagined windmills in the night, whose mind is inured to reality, who wishes to bring peace to himself, to the tired and weary peasants who labor in their masters’ causes.

 

‘He’ listened while walking the long tedious furrows of their labors and heard their soft voices humming, some singing in soulful whispers ballads of meager yesterdays or the bright tomorrows that never came. They were silent men and women who could not put the finesse, the literacy in their constant thoughts, but they bled when their skin were torn and their bodies ached from the long days in the shallow pits. Their dreams were not so unlike those who had means for fulfilling their wistful longings of the mind and of the soul, those whose fates were more clearly wise and defined.

 

‘The man’ I met in a book took me along for his evening rides, he on the back of his simple donkey, me in the adorned and flashy saddle of my great golden steed.

 

‘The gentle man’ would finally die a sorrowful and most lonely death, leaving a piece of his heart with me…

 

I have chased those windmills ‘the man’ left inside my mind. I have walked the furrowed land, heard the soft humming and singing in the pits and I fear my fate will differ little from that man who would be the patrician knight of us all.

 

Billy Ray Chitwood – August 2, 2019

 

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Summer Dreaming

 

Summer Dreaming

 

Sweet Silence surrounds me,

Save for my melodic humming

Of ‘The Wayward Wind’,

Soft, sonorous, and spacious…

Wafting, wending westward

On white cloud puffs

Of far distant dreams,

In flight and gentle frenzy

Toward more tomorrows…

 

Tis but a simple hum,

A Vagabond’s season-song

Of mythical mysteries,

Misty yearning yesterdays

Flowing, fleeting across

Lazy landscapes filled

With wistful wonder,

Sweet sorrow and regret,

A paean with gossamer wings.

 

Life takes its meanings

From fools’ frets and quests.

Minions find their way

To this poetic plateau

For the Romantic,

The jive of Jesters,

The sad throng of

Nomad Ninnies

Some will call Poets.

 

Billy Ray Chitwood – July 30, 2019

 

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