Tag: Poetry

Introducing ‘Twenty-One Jack’ Poetry

Introducing ‘Twenty-One-Jack’ Poetry

 

Might I be so bold as to introduce you to my ‘Twenty-one Jack’? Simply put, it is a poem of your choice with twenty-one lines: rhyme, no-rhyme, free verse, simply, compressed poetic thoughts and feelings. I give you here my first attempt and hope you might enjoy trying it yourself.

 

“Ah, The Sting”

 

Ah, the sting of memory,

The gasp, the dip in sorrow,

All the loves of yesterday…

 

Time, the arbiter, the squire

Upon whose donkey for me

Rode the night’s pleasure…

 

Twas all a moment’s fancy

There in diluted memory,

All gone in morrow’s dawn…

 

Yet, still would I so linger

Among the music and mist

Perchance one dalliance left…

 

For fools exist for pleasure’s

Hopeful lingering at the trough

Of Bacchus eve’s merriment…

 

Only, now, wrinkled fantasies

Visit in grotesque dreams

That deny a relevance…

 

Still, tis good to know that

One’s life does not foretell

Mysteries yet beyond the veil…

Billy Ray Chitwood – May 13, 2019

 

Please preview my books:

https://billyraychitwood.com

 

Please follow my blog:

https://brchitwood.com

 

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Westward, Toward the Light

Westward, Toward the Light

There was magic borne on the wind that carried my assorted and disassembled dreams westward. Go West, young man, go west! was the mantra that kept playing softly on my harp of hope, onward to dispel the cravings of a life so unspent, so emotionally charged, to find a place of peace and refuge.

The hay straw still showed behind each ear as the journey took my meager belongings toward the unknowable, the fancy of a young man’s flight. The salt air of an ocean reached and settled sweetly in a naïve mind, its aroma a quiet compelling elixir of jangled thoughts filled with youthful wonder, wild imaginings, and a nervous sense of doubt and fear from an inconsistent past.

So began my adventure into the world where youth gave way to the neon lights, adventures built from beach sand and romance, with but a glimmer, always, but a glimmer to a dream that might come true. Aided by Bacchus’ soothing near-miraculous stirring of spirit, my reach, my grasp, were temporary, daring me to the very edge of some total climactic and thunderous denouement.

And, so it was for a lifetime, this chase, this forever search for some reasonable continuity of existence and purpose. Along with the virginal beginning and the tempest days of debauchery, there came the muse who perchance reached into a soiled soul of enraptured, uncaptured, carousel of desires and bade me be a scribe to all I see, sense, and embrace.

Thus, here I be with the only gauge of my existence, my mind free to roam all expanses, sullied only by its depth and cognition. How much of me is obsequious, imaginary, existent, is not for me to say. ‘Why can you not say’? One could ask. Because I do not know would be my answer.

No long white beard announcing Socratic wonders, still, here in the bosom of old age, I wander down the paths of my mind, still, emotionally, searching, plotting courses uncharted in this, my minimal odyssey.

BR Chitwood – May 6, 2019

Please preview my books:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Hey, World!

15241296_10210589180546815_7619236045342556019_n (1)
-Hey, World!-

Hey, World,
Look at my girl…
She’s standing right here
Beside me.
Hey, World,
I’m in a whirl…
I’ve found the girl
For me.

She’s lovely,
And, Wow!
Those Eyes…
She’s Lovely,
She’s Paradise,
She’s Lovely,
Just One of a Kind,
Hands Off, World,
She’s All Mine!
*
She moves with the grace
Of an Angel,
She’s Diff’rent in her own
Special Way.
All that I’ve longed for,
A lady with Style,
Hey, World –
Outta my way!
She’s lovely,
Just One of a Kind…
Hands Off, World!
She’s All Mine…

An Up-Beat Stylish Song by: Billy Ray Chitwood

Please preview my books at:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog at:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

River, Keep on Flowing

-River, Keep on Flowing-

I look out over the valley

From atop this tall, tall Pine

And I can see the river flowing

Over this land of mine.

There, on the bank of the river,

Sits a love that I once knew,

Her hair aglow in the sunlight,

Her eyes lost in sky of blue.

River, keep on flowing

River, flow for me

River, ease my heartaches,

And take my misery.

*

Where does she go at twilight?

The love that I once knew…

Does she go in search of tomorrow

In the arms of someone new?

*

River, keep on flowing

Over forgotten ground,

River, keep on flowing

Let my peace be found.

River, keep on flowing

River, flow for me

River, take my heartaches

Relieve my misery.

 

A slow (old-time country) tempo song by:

 Billy Ray Chitwood – April 23, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog at:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Ode to Lamentation

Ode to Lamentation

 

What is it makes us yearn?

Lonely in peculiar ways?

Is it only hearts of Romantics

That connect to life’s gauzy haze?

 

What of a past we must give up?

Nights in love’s joyous cloud?

Is it so simple to pass and merely

Become one with the crowd?

 

What mocks us most in life?

The mistakes we made in our pace?

The glory that might have been?

Or the wrinkles upon our face?

 

Does dimension lie beyond this orb?

Does Heaven or Hell Await?

Tis written, ‘ours not to know’?

Doth then we yield to fate?

*

©Billy Ray Chitwood – April 6, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Insomnia

Insomnia

 

Night Comes

With Its Demons,

Stays Late Into My

Hapless Toss And Turn…

Brings Its Jabbing Thoughts

Of All My Yesterdays,

Leaves Me Tangled

In The Wet Sheets

Of Memories…

With Dawn,

The Weary Self Of

Bone And Flesh

Seeks Cessation

In the hopeful

Sunlight

Of Day.

 

©Billy Ray Chitwood – March 22, 2019

 

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/brchitwood

Altar of Remembrance

Altar of Remembrance

All things you are to me I now render unto our altar of remembrance…

No long list this of platitudes and love words written idly…

Our love deserves a solemn, sublime space here in the domains of our souls…

Reach gentle fingers to your heart and watch the wispy thoughts of yesterday rise softly before you…

With caressing fingers hold the moments that filled us with memories for the ‘morrow…

Smile with dreamy eyes the awkward delivery of our first kiss…

Ah, the wafting scent of the fragrances we sprayed on our bodies…

And the blushes we could not hide during the early blooming of our love…

The tedious nourishing of those magical moments when our bodies touched in the night…

The balladeers and violins of enchanting moments at our favorite bistros…

So many endearments…and I must leave you now with a misty good-bye…

Billy Ray Chitwood – February, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog at:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Lazy Moments in Time

Lazy Moments in Time

What folly this

That binds me,

Betrays me,

Leaves me here,

In this strange

Subtle land?

Glory must

Surely shed

Its light

On yonder

Brows,

Not mine!

Here,

Dreams live,

Greatness appears,

And, so soon

Expires…

What fool am I

To stand among

These great

Images of

Proud history?

Tis Folly here!

Must be folly

For I see not

My Image

Smiling back

At me!

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 31, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on:

https://www.twitter.com/brchitwood

Winter’s Lassitude

Winter’s Lassitude

Perhaps it’s the winter days that has me in this patch of lassitude, here in the pale used-up corn stalks of boredom, where words won’t form and thoughts come in slow motion and without any great desire to be fulfilled. The sunny day falls on a layer of snow and cannot alter the artic bite in the air, yet without the glowing essence of a clear day, I might very well give way to purposeless stagnation.

I want to write, to create a marvelous ‘flash fiction’ piece, a poem of praise for the deity that claims my being, yet, the torpidity seems all-consuming and bids me crank up the leg-rest of my Lazy boy and wile away the day with patches of slumber. But I fight the off-kilter feelings and press on with words that might or might not warrant any qualitative analysis. So, I cling to the notion that out of the lazy meandering the Gods on Mt. Olympus might bring life to my fingers as they tap onward the laptop keys.

Wouldst I write about the political nonsense that is frightfully ambiguous and bordering on insanity? God, forbid! My takeaway from the blabber would be of no import and would only show my informed but unpolished political leanings that would please some and anger others. No politics, thank you very much…

What, then, Lazybones?

I shall try a poem for my good followers and then put the day away marked as ‘non-essential’ and ‘lethargic’!

Here, then, is the poem…ah, what name shall I give it? Ah, yes…

Wasted Day

How does one forfeit a day?

Wasted but adorned beautifully

By Sunshine and snow?

Tis a mindless pity to waste

So much energy and time

To say, ‘I don’t know’!

The blog and book must wait

Until tomorrow comes

For an intellectual glow!

After all, words are cheap

And book sales are small

So much for my folio!

One day, surely, I can miss.

My brain can use the rest

Tis no huge fiasco.

Tomorrow, then, I shall

Write a #1 bestseller

And all the world will crow.

*

And so be it this Tuesday morning in January.

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 22, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/brchitwood

Portrait in Time

Portrait In Time

Young man, do you not see me as once I might have been?

Is it the wrinkle, the sagging skin Time laid upon me that you see?

Once I stood, perhaps like you, with noble thoughts and dreams

A new bright morning might bring.

Time wore me down with its ceaseless ubiquitous ways and subtle promises.

Time taunted and tempted me with its guile and deceptions,

With its beauty beads of love.

Time gave me its reins to run wild with the wind toward sunrise and sunset.

Time now leaves me here along the sea, better to have had its moments of joy;

Sad to have you see the frail and broken parts of me.

Young man, can you not see me as once I might have been?

(An ending poem in a book by Billy Ray Chitwood, “The Cracked Mirror – Reflections Of An Appalachian Son”)

Billy Ray Chitwood – October 12, 2018

Please Preview My Books:

billyraychitwood.com

Please Folllow My Blog:

brchitwood.com

Please Follow Me:

twitter.com/brchitwood