Oh! It burns!
Foul sun, winking at me in mockery
pesky crocus shoots piercing my fading skin
the purity of my white pristine blanket
bespotted with all manner of cloying color
such a haphazard array
Spring once again vomits forth
Yes, you laugh now
and smile with the very teeth
that chattered in fear when near me
your flesh exposed now
to the weakness of a pathetic breeze
you did not dare expose an ankle
to my penetrating glare
how you dance without a care
for I'm no longer there
forget the months of blizzards bluster
when every sigh you mustered
turned to frost upon your lips
those endless nights of snapping tree limbs crashing
your nightmares screaming
crying with teeth gnashing, begging
for a simple warming ray of hope
Yes, forget me now, you no longer
have to cope with me
I've gone away
I'll watch as I'm forgotten
over Summer your joy's wonton
It's as though you've never
had to trudge through snow
your life is blessed
you have a whim and that is where you go
but comes the day the greening fades
the pretense fills your mind
for Autumn is so pretty
such splendor there to find
beneath the ground
you stomp upon so recklessly
I choke the very roots of every tree
I start their hell
for every leaf will fall
and crisp upon the ground
For Autumn is the death of all the joy you've found
A single snowflake tickles as it lands upon your nose
you laugh for you've forgotten
that I've been in repose
I breathe in deep for I remember
every mocking squeal
and every oh and ah
you've had your time of silliness
to frolic and to feel
it won't be long
with rest, I'm strong
best go inside you don't belong
within the world I'm planning to rebuild
a frozen land of white where
all hope and joy is killed
perhaps you will remember now
there's no escaping me
I will always be fulfilled.
by michael cahill
so blank and bereft of interest
left to my design
a spinning begins to churn within
for a moment I pause
a bead of sweat forms
I consider the stars…
I shoot through the clouds skyward
inhale lungs full of galactic materials
then return and exhale them
liberally over the page
it glows and dances in glorious gavottes
as puzzles are posed
and reasoning resounds
do you approve?
are you peeved?
it matters not,
the page is full
morning glory seed
to never soil
now the journey begins
a bottle set sail
a blue whale's whimsical tale
of magic pods to scatter
on the breeze of the silver wind
is the wind
trustworthy with suspect origin
and catspaw entrances
the winking wind in the willows
clever and crooked
as if it could be measured
for intent or intentions or deemed
to have any or many or none
beluga cold from blue to white
a seed within
marshmallow science focus
the iceberg melts
the bottle is free
the journey continues
the cork master is extinct
|Author Notes||Thanks to Picasso for attempting this painting. Yeah... it makes a lot of sense.|
I stand at the ocean's door and bid the sea rise
I clear space
suitable for writing
a table for pen and paper
a coaster to honor all mothers everywhere
a cup sits to the right honoring all sons
I clear a path to the horizon
it opens to
mountains in the distance as a reference
the sunset changes … I'm undecided
the moon … now, hurry
yes, moon's reflection … rise quickly
while the real moon floats
only I know,
flying fish shy away
a dolphin leaps
why so high?
another path leads to a wolf in a tree
the tree dances a tango
with another tree
the wolf howls at the moon's reflection
the reflection shrugs
and tips its hat
my dog Kellie is on the moon taking a nap
Suicide leaves the living with that horrible thought, "If I was only there." And there is some truth in it. That is why it hurts. But, it takes such a brief time to commit suicide. No one can be watched round the clock.
Somehow Rest In Peace just didn't seem to be appropriate for Robin Williams.
I could see no way to make my point strongly except to take off the gloves and condemn those that I hear speak this in the name of their God. Not all believers do, of course. But, there are certainly some rather loud fervent factions that sound just like this. I don't include the many true believers that spread nothing but love and peace. To them I wish complete victory. I count myself among them.
|Author Notes||The treatment of American Veterans is this country's greatest shame in my opinion.|
|Author Notes||I couldn't enter the antonym contest, but I liked my little antonym piece so I expanded it.|
Missed the deadline on "The other side of romance" prompt. A piece about heartache or betrayal.
the carousel slowly turns
falacious colorful fantasy mounts
await a willing rider
children of all ages
find a cushy satin saddle
ponies with wings
unicorns with blaring horns
strapped in tightly
the journey begins
the envious throng
crane their necks
keeping an eye
on their lucky traveler
smiles saturate sensibilities
Satan polishes with panache
anticipation feverishly grows
he extends his hand
all grab for the
shiny brass ring
the carousel slowly turns
the carousel slowly turns
the carousel slowyl turns
I think things have gone too far. The economy is not fixable. Whatever this country once was, it no longer is.
|Author Note:||Biographical, Auto? Perhaps...|
oh the burden
the hopeful eyes searing holes
through every dream I dare to
yes, with ease
but if you please my needs
yet you stare for you once were a
will I remove the sting of failure's ring
when all around you sing of my
will skies become a royal blue for you
the clouds are going somewhere
that much I can see
I envision chariot wheels turning and burning
the air with speed
and now I return
to your chagrin
you muster cheer
from wells of regret
failure only exists
when it matters
it began to rain
I've come home
from my journey
I never was a
|Author Note:||LOVE KNOWS NOT AGE|
Inspired by an astonishing piece by I am Cat, "Elderly Snow". This isn't quite up to the quality of that, but I enjoyed spilling this nonetheless. :)
|Author Note:||Mankind is not synergistic|
I have such little time for reviewing and responding. I am so sorry for that. I stopped posting as a result. But, I have to feed my addiction once in a while. I'll try to respond if you're kind enough to leave a comment. I always read and appreciate every word. Somehow I will make it up to you. :)
|Author Note:||PRISONS AREN'T ALWAYS OBVIOUS|
A Treatise On Human Imprisonment
by michael cahill
so, dream your sweet dream
while a river grows from a stream
and a nightmare rears
and struts the sky
Hi ho silver
my oh my
and where is high
when low you fly
without the will to try
and did you die
when she told you
well, not tonight...no baby, not tonight
is it what she said to you
when you tripped the light fantastic
is it what she told you boy
when she melted all your plastic skies
and deep inside where the demons lie
and you just can't help believe
that a dream is just
a nightmare you think sweet
and still you cry
for a dream where you're the dragon.
cry for a dream
where there's not a naggin
doubt of what you're about
it's a world without that girl
and within your world
no flags unfurled
for you're alone
and the wind is not impressed
a bow to the power of a love unknown
a tip of the festive hat,
a feat of nature shown
to an audience of bones
a cyclone seeking wind
when nothing is within that roams
did you not hear that she implored you
that she could not afford you
an entrance in a dream that you foretold
for she is not the dancer in your centerfold
she is the silver breeze
that left you
blind and old.
what if a moment didn't mean
what you schemed and dreamed
in a vacant stare
that no one sought
what did you give?
a cyclone is a product of the wind ... it's whim
|Author Notes||The Moonlight Sonata is a simple piano piece that most pianists are able to play. However, to play it properly and bring out the beautiful melody requires great skill. Love over time can fall into the repetitious sound of the sonata and the melody is easily lost if the skill is not constantly applied.|
|Author Notes||To best answer the question put forth is to write something that is as completely in a form that pleases one's self as possible. This is what I would write for myself and most reflects myself and what poetry is for me.|
love does not recognize time's dominion
a moment and a decade the same
a year as a glance in contemplation
a kiss fleeting but immortally so
this faulty memory
where birthdays and holidays travel
on capricious eddys of sparking electronic
misfires difficult to unravel
sharpens to the picture of you
Shy and vulnerable your pose, standing there naked
branches trying to cover your shame
but I blow them skyward
and see what I want to see
how lovely you look dressed in white my dear
though I have had my way with you
night after endless freezing night
where are your fickle friends now?
no chirping or scampering or even a slick slither
how quickly they abandoned you
as I swaggered down the path
only I am here now to caress every trembling stem
feel the shiver of each kiss I bestow
you are mine my pet, every conquered bough
It is my pleasure, concubine.
|Author Notes||minimal punctuation.|
|Author Notes||The dandy feeling of being in love with a girl that couldn't care less about you and doesn't even know that you exist. Good times!!|
obscurity is relative
between dissimilar minds
an unbreachable gulf
and perceived disinterest
we stare endlessly
into something unfathomable
looking for a raft
to float on
for a moments peace
and sadly we look for a leaf
impaled by a toothpick
as an ocean liner steams by
with millions of outstretched hands
leaning in peril to grasp
Not always obscurity my friend is it?
Is it excused blindness
or simple failure to adjust
to the glare?
a forlorn and irritated soul
sits on an abandoned ant hill
starring at a blade of grass
growing under a mushroom
and feels empathy
"Poor little thing growing
in the shadows."
but, only the blade of grass
has the vantage point to see
"From here I see you are soft
beneath your intimidating helmet.
I'll be damned. I can tickle you."
an empty sea of longing
to fathom tides and the clever toying of the moon
smiling and making the stars giggle
they mocked us with their winking
motion speaks of tiding reverie
we scan the vast waters with heavy sighs
separated but of a kind
dreams of sailing haunt our horizons
a kiss awakens a sleeping princess
a frog the handsome prince through adoring eyes
a jolly laugh slips a child's hope down a narrow chimney
faith transforms the stiffest wood to leaping life
a journey uncertain
whose destination holds joy or oblivion
waves to ride to shore tumbling and shouting
an abyss embracing separate sorrows unconnected
in the deepest and most wide ocean
two souls entered the water
they sought only love
the most perfect love in the universe
and they found it
|Author Notes||I like this myself.|
It can never only be
just a poesy meadow's walk-a-bout
oblivion replaces mere fancy
Winter's blue's a desperate dirge drowning deluge
a song sung sans serenity
spring's hope a delirious dramatic dream-state desiring
mirthful melodious madcap merriment
a summer to find the truest deepest love
a fall from the highest oubliette
back to a winter's longing cold embrace
I am but a humble poet my darling
I do not merely love you
I breathe in deep the entire cosmos
and exhale a universe repainted for two
Red blood flows in waterfalls skyward
blue sorrows become transformed and fall
persuading purple-passioned pressured pleading
"Please! Never stop!"
A true poet believes every word written
|Author Notes||Acrostic with "I Died" repeated three times.|
so, I'm walkin' in this kind of tunnel
that not quite strutting kind of
ambling that tells you I'm better
but, I'm not gonna rub it in
and I have this vague sense of
bouncin' in the grey
but, it just seems too ancient
like someone would have constructed
during the march of the fish
to dry land
if someone were around
and though the seal is tight
I have an uneasy sense
of water all around me
with some kind of telepathy at play
conveying feelings without language
it's music, I think
but, there isn't a tune
there's harmony but, no melody
and somehow the feeling of the song
and now I'm thinking: "Oh Lord!
I'm supposed to be the melody!"
But, I'm not fitting in
there are so many parts
in too many octaves
and I'm being drowned
though feeling surrounded by it
and off in the distance
I hear a pretty voice humming
"la la la" over and over
so, I join in
"la la la…..la la la"
and add a little "la" of my own
and now I'm losing the beat
and I'm singing louder now
"la la la…….la"
"la la la…….la"
but, damn it, it's not connected to anything
and it's not matching anything
so, I'm becoming frightened and forlorn
and I'm just screaming now
filling the tunnel with some kind of
echoing screeching wail of sorrow
and I'm falling apart
cell by cell
and the tunnel is collapsing
molecule by m o l e c u l e
and the water I surmised
is seeping in
and I'm in some kind of primordial soup
cells meeting molecules surrounded by drops
and though I am completely dismantling
I am still aware
even while I bond with foreign particles
and dri ft
in some ever expanding sea
I feel countless cells
brushing by me
sometimes crashing into me
and further diluting me
and finally all I am able to say
is that I am a part of this
and I realize in every scattered piece
that all of this is a part of me
and now I am back in the tunnel
a sense, no, a knowledge of water
an ancient structure indeed
filled with melody
all in counterpoint
all one work
I boldly sing my song
I cry as I hear it echo
through the tunnel
growing as it joins
the work in progress
and now I'm still kind of amblin' along
a little humility, a bit of arrogance
'cause I know I should be
so, la di la di da to you my friend
|Author Notes||This was for the personification of winter prompt. I was too late. If you think I would have won, I am happy to accept cash or McDonald's coupons. I accept donations out of pity as well. Pride is for sissies.|
I careen through the poisoned underground currents,
holding my breath
with vague trepidation-
For I choose this pathway, somehow.
It is seeping through my pores;
taking me in a more subtle way,
with my respect, of course.
As I wish it after all my false denial.
As I feared in every cell.
As I couldn't stop anyway.
I breath deep the destiny
of that first glance;
subdued by endless wasted denial,
weary of an ego dance avoiding defeat.
The façade of my hidden power
I fall to the ground.
As you walk by.
Your stiletto heel
pierces my eye.
"Sorry", you say
as you carry on.
My heart sings with joy
for you noticed me.
I remember being poetic
when my heart was a cathedral
made of organ pipes
shinning brass tubes
and angled glass
into colorful dreams
surrounding the melody
and conveying it skyward
with a pretty picture of a galaxy's lost aria
I remember being athletic
from a trapeze
in a leather collar
and inviting them
at the same time
of course, they had to know
I remember the giddy pretense
of a ginger bread dream
that I baked inside their thoughts
I must confess
I wish I could capture
as clever a liar
I am hungry
Winter. Oh, dear friend, winter.
How endearingly long
have we solemnly spent
our solitude silently together,
as life doggedly endures
a stoic inspiration?
I seek your company every year,
and silently applaud,
rest within the strong cradle
of your steely-eyed resolve.
Yet, for all my reverence and attention,
I have never seen it snow,
even as I, myself, have entered
my own perceived winsome winter.
This is my very own spring and dancing summer
come to sudden life,
a pleasant surprise indeed.
This is not relentless rain-
stern and predictable,
nor haughty hell-bent hail-
rude and admonishing.
This lives in defiance of every law,
foiling gravity's stern admonitions
with but the softest chuckle and wink.
I know God is well-pleased
with every Summer's spectacular riot of color
and the smiles of all his children
frolicking carefree in the abundance of plenty.
But, I know as I see these snowflakes,
down, in patterns designed by playful angels,
that this is where the Lord
comes to play
It is why I am not cold.
upon witnessing snow for the very first time.
words to soothe
an aloe vera blanket
to cuddle in
where is truth
in words measured
and chosen carefully
put in order
to please the ear
the truth is in the thinking itself
the endless downpour
the mind's bedside vigil
if only I could lift off
the top of my head
and show you
look at it!
for God's sake!
that's what I'm trying
in such a tidy
I'm talkin' bout
a lawnmower mowing
a field of water balloons
It is honey
a butterfly to beauty
born a caterpillar
hope grown in chrysalis
takes wild flight
And where is the road
that leads there?
What device of time foretells when?
So weary of irony and pathos,
Nobility, a thorn in my ass,
Honor is some hat racks companion,
Character, my assassin.
There will be another,
(but, I want no other)
some tasty dish, to erase
your limited visage.
But, I'm already blinded by merengue,
in my lemon whipped world.
You'll love again.
But, not like this,
not like this.
And now I understand
stalking and peeping,
a voyeur's predilections.
Those are by-products of want,
obsessions relentless beckoning,
mocked and ridiculed,
by your own joy,
in the midst of your tragic failed existence.
I sit at a table,
surrounded by elegance,
broke and eating breadsticks;
watching them eat my steak.
the unwanted encouragement from friends when your heart is broken. you know who you love. you don't want to love anyone else. at least not yet.
maybe being admired
for your nobility
is the ultimate goal sought
but, the conquering hero
receives but empty cheers
riding the winds of envy
cradled in silent and bitter tasting
of course if you were there
in that particular happenstance
the cheers would be for you
you lick the urinal rim
to expunge that jealous taste
contemplating the cool waters beckoning
imagining your epithet
when they realize
and what of our reverence
for your suffering
as all you sought is forfeit
all your just desserts
spoil in the burning valley
for want of a spoon?
but, aren't we all chuckling to ourselves
behind the stoic guise of pity?
we somehow manage to avoid embrace
for fear the jinx will rub off
a condolence by its very nature
only brings solace to the messenger
is there not a sweet taste
in a love unrequited?
surely we all sigh at the thought
or, maybe the remembrance
but, what is more safe
than a silent world of possibility
where no door is opened
yet, no door is closed
and endless journey imagined
rocked in the cradle of could've been?
but, in truth a thought has no weight
nobility after all
is just another word for inaction
inaction the cornerstone of cowardice
to endure your life
how foolish to emulate the pallor of death
and accept the tip of a hat
as payment due for your effort
you don't get to hear your eulogy
no matter how elegant
you leave with your final thought
a remembered victory
a lie uncorrected
your private defining moment
known only to you
I'll be thinking of a kiss
a long warning for those that need it.
|Author Note:||PROBLEMS? WHAT PROBLEMS?|
xenocracy : government by a body of foreigners
|Author Note:||A BRIEF AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL VIGNETTE|
Dad an abusive alcoholic, mother insane.
figure out the rest. :)
|Author Note:||NEVER MARRY A REVIEWER|
This is all just stuff I heard. None of this is auto biographical. NONE of it ... really.
Yes, the staggered lines are intentional. It's a technique in free verse to draw the readers eye across the page. It highlights certain phrases and is designed to encourage pauses for reflection.
I realize that some find the technique distracting. If so, just read the words in order and try to ignore the format. Words are words.
"A rolling stone gathers no moss".
|Author Note:||LOVE IS LOVE REGARDLESS--A GOOD THING|
I ponder oceans
but not their depth for that is known
to me and surely known to you
and yes I've considered
mountains tall piercing Heaven
knowing you are of its fabric
it is miles considered
on this lonely beach
and how to breach
the vast expanse of circumstance
the waves roll in
and offer not a ride away
away to you
where I know you've built a castle
our souls dance in the mist
far out to sea
where no one need be privy
a sweet embrace
that is only beautiful
such is love
when the oceans
do not approve
This is me and Tori Amos. I'm sure she'd NOT be pleased. :))
Not exactly sure what the song is about, but many of the phrases
strike me as ones that pertain to the feelings I'm expressing, so
here it is.
Apologies for the sound quality, etc. This is all I have. I had this little tune I was tinkering with and the phrase "A loss for words" in my head. So, I started playing and this is what came out. Overly long, choppy, sloppy and noisy, yes. When I get discovered and signed by Geffen Records I'm sure I can improve on it. :))
Idle longing-- envisioning
lucky smoky-room encountering
endless daydream erupting
twin chairs rocking
|Author Note:||IS THIS ABOUT YOU? YES.|
surely, though a whisper in a prison,
souls know only truth,
words that aren't words waft on the wind.
and the fickle currents
bow to their will and intent
for the impish breeze does have one master.
the soul speaks;
the heart and mind listen,
and for a moment
all is known in certainty.
a sprite without a name
can only dance a joyful turn.
would that the heart harken purely
to the music
but hearts are healing places,
and wounds in the most delicate places
heal slowly and scars impede
a smooth touch confused by resistance.
the most well intentioned kiss
stings when applied to a bruise;
the most-tender caress
grates across an uneven surface;
words not even known to be careless
grip tightly to a meaning
unknown but to the rhythmic beat
being foolish, we solicit definition
and ascribe blame
or declare innocence
when neither need be considered.
the inexplicable retaliation
to the warmest smile
garrotes the tongue
and inflames it.
venom forms in the empty well
(a space heretofore unknown)
and spews forth in a surprise attack.
war commences in
the most peaceful of valleys.
and the burn obscures
the idyllic landscape.
the soul pines in
love becomes a word
to bandy about,
paralyzed by the folly
it is real,
though encased in regret
and twisted by the past.
to set it free,
I told myself I'd stop posting. Something told me different.
This looks to my liking in classic Fanstory if you've a mind to switch over for a moment. :))
Thank you Rama Devi for pointing out the little details that elevate this piece so much!!
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