Submissions by cabcool
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I have been writing poems since I was 13 years old. I have had many publications of individual poems in newspapers, magazines, electronic forums, and on radio.
anansi
It's not always about being the hero, sometimes it's about
being the trickster.”—Anansi Boys
akan-jamaican passion
landscaped not by vext ration
a little axe that fells big trees
cunning in sun and rain and breeze
fearful of no assassin
stealthy without moccasin
an octopus with human
face and spider’s acumen
he...
being the trickster.”—Anansi Boys
akan-jamaican passion
landscaped not by vext ration
a little axe that fells big trees
cunning in sun and rain and breeze
fearful of no assassin
stealthy without moccasin
an octopus with human
face and spider’s acumen
he...
#Africa
#narrative
#culture #tradition
#culture #tradition
70 reads
0 Comments
shall the wicked
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men
to do nothing.”—Edmund Burke
shall the Giver
of the river
wait forerever
for the ‘clever,’
who will never
seek to sever
his endeavour
from the...
to do nothing.”—Edmund Burke
shall the Giver
of the river
wait forerever
for the ‘clever,’
who will never
seek to sever
his endeavour
from the...
#dark
#identity
#evil
#LifeCycle
#morality
62 reads
0 Comments
memories
Tribute to the Memory of my Late, Great Mother
Blanche Medorah Cunningham Bowen
(1913 February 06-2020 July 14)
“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”—Robert Browning
my mother passed this way
a century and eleven years ago.
memories cannot decay,
although the rusts of time across them blow.
she has no further cares,
where once her heart heaved underneath the strain
of sentiments and fears
that rattled hard against her windowpane.
my mother was the earth,
fertile with an abundance of...
Blanche Medorah Cunningham Bowen
(1913 February 06-2020 July 14)
“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”—Robert Browning
my mother passed this way
a century and eleven years ago.
memories cannot decay,
although the rusts of time across them blow.
she has no further cares,
where once her heart heaved underneath the strain
of sentiments and fears
that rattled hard against her windowpane.
my mother was the earth,
fertile with an abundance of...
#mother
#motherhood
#family #memories
#family #memories
101 reads
2 Comments
exeunt
my january days
“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.
Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no
such thing as separation.”—Rumi
the speaker stood there, speechless,
the pleader’s voice beseechless,
the vital river ran aground, bone dry.
the view, once so breathtaking,
enero was forsaking,
my tired eyes knew no more how to cry.
the night sky, stark and starless,
making my daydreams far less
inclined to populate my fitful sleep.
my final hopes were waning,
vitality fast...
“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.
Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no
such thing as separation.”—Rumi
the speaker stood there, speechless,
the pleader’s voice beseechless,
the vital river ran aground, bone dry.
the view, once so breathtaking,
enero was forsaking,
my tired eyes knew no more how to cry.
the night sky, stark and starless,
making my daydreams far less
inclined to populate my fitful sleep.
my final hopes were waning,
vitality fast...
#grief
#breakup
#MovingOn #emotional
#MovingOn #emotional
73 reads
0 Comments
seasons of the earth
a galactic journey
"While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not
cease."—Genesis 8:22
were there not twelve mensajes in my book
when, on that silent january morn,
the mountains bade me take a solemn look
at how the seasons of the earth were born?
the chilly winds a path made for the spring,
their passions melting in the radiant sun,
as pregnant birds and flowers on the wing
rejoiced to know the banquet had begun.
...
"While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not
cease."—Genesis 8:22
were there not twelve mensajes in my book
when, on that silent january morn,
the mountains bade me take a solemn look
at how the seasons of the earth were born?
the chilly winds a path made for the spring,
their passions melting in the radiant sun,
as pregnant birds and flowers on the wing
rejoiced to know the banquet had begun.
...
#summer
#winter
#fall
#spring
#MovingOn
53 reads
0 Comments
upon this lovely january morn
a debut saltation for 2024
“I like the dreams of the future better than the history
of the past.”—Thomas Jefferson
upon this lovely january morn,
o how my heart, intrepid in its pulse,
keeps vigil, as the fledgling year is born,
while earth's nerves, in her afterbirth, convulse!
she sucks her first breath from the virgin wind
...
“I like the dreams of the future better than the history
of the past.”—Thomas Jefferson
upon this lovely january morn,
o how my heart, intrepid in its pulse,
keeps vigil, as the fledgling year is born,
while earth's nerves, in her afterbirth, convulse!
she sucks her first breath from the virgin wind
...
#hope
#holiday
#TimeHeals
#MovingOn
#NewYear
69 reads
2 Comments
grandma has no teeth
Be true to your teeth or they will be false to you.”—Soupy Sales
grandma has no teeth
to sleep with,
lest she swallows them at night;
snuggled underneath
her blanket,
e'en the dark she dares not bite.
her indentured smile,
perpetual,
in its saline water jar,
boasts no lethal guile
to victual
harnessed by her canine war.
when she pops them in
at morning,
speech reclaims her lisping tongue;
words she could not spin,
adorning
arias night had left unsung.
...
grandma has no teeth
to sleep with,
lest she swallows them at night;
snuggled underneath
her blanket,
e'en the dark she dares not bite.
her indentured smile,
perpetual,
in its saline water jar,
boasts no lethal guile
to victual
harnessed by her canine war.
when she pops them in
at morning,
speech reclaims her lisping tongue;
words she could not spin,
adorning
arias night had left unsung.
...
#love
#family
#memories #aging
#memories #aging
74 reads
3 Comments
he took his own life
Death will come for all of us but let us fight to live.”
—Jamie Tworkowski, If You Feel Too Much
i.
the bullets rang out,
piercing the night,
commingling each shout
with gashing light;
the children were hushed
against the plight,
paraded and pushed
into blind flight.
ii.
unable to flee,
the blind boy stood,
wishing he could see
some trifling good.
the two sides were armed
with weaponry,
the rivals alarmed
by bigotry.
iii.
all reason was gone:
no gallantry;
right...
—Jamie Tworkowski, If You Feel Too Much
i.
the bullets rang out,
piercing the night,
commingling each shout
with gashing light;
the children were hushed
against the plight,
paraded and pushed
into blind flight.
ii.
unable to flee,
the blind boy stood,
wishing he could see
some trifling good.
the two sides were armed
with weaponry,
the rivals alarmed
by bigotry.
iii.
all reason was gone:
no gallantry;
right...
#anxiety
#conflict
#violence
#war
#vulnerability
97 reads
2 Comments
long night weeping
There is a certain pleasure in weeping; grief finds in tears
both a satisfaction and a cure.”—Ovid
the tireless rain,
the endless weeping of the dark and sullen skies,
flooding again
the aquifers that brim my red and swollen eyes;
sorrows full bred,
disconsolate, the clouds that feed my sateless lake,
unsnug in bed,
yet dreading how to face the day when i awake.
wherefore these tears
that heave the bosom of my slumbrous, starless night?
what are your fears:
are not my songs sufficient for a guiding light?
give...
both a satisfaction and a cure.”—Ovid
the tireless rain,
the endless weeping of the dark and sullen skies,
flooding again
the aquifers that brim my red and swollen eyes;
sorrows full bred,
disconsolate, the clouds that feed my sateless lake,
unsnug in bed,
yet dreading how to face the day when i awake.
wherefore these tears
that heave the bosom of my slumbrous, starless night?
what are your fears:
are not my songs sufficient for a guiding light?
give...
#sadness
#heartbroken
#rain
#night
#water
79 reads
0 Comments
of life and breath
Sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away that
breathe purpose and love back into your life.”―Steve Marabol
i remember you
from another world,
elegant one, in a thousand roses.
naked now, of dew,
wherefore are you hurled
whence i’ve lusted for your orgic poses?
where, the stunning blush,
of...
breathe purpose and love back into your life.”―Steve Marabol
i remember you
from another world,
elegant one, in a thousand roses.
naked now, of dew,
wherefore are you hurled
whence i’ve lusted for your orgic poses?
where, the stunning blush,
of...
#sadness
#death
#flowers
#rose
#LifeCycle
131 reads
9 Comments
once upon a song
a sonnet
“On the other side of pain, there is still love.”
—Madeleine L'Engle
she was the sweetest song i’d ever sung,
though amateur my quivering baritone;
upon her dulcimer my treasures hung,
my red wine her compelling pheromone.
her plagal cadence brought me to my grave,
not one sip saved for future poetry.
how fallen, i, a soldier once so brave,
slain hopes interred in love's cold cemetery!
but, like a seed, i struggled from the dark
soil of ignominy (i caught my breath!),
craving of light the...
“On the other side of pain, there is still love.”
—Madeleine L'Engle
she was the sweetest song i’d ever sung,
though amateur my quivering baritone;
upon her dulcimer my treasures hung,
my red wine her compelling pheromone.
her plagal cadence brought me to my grave,
not one sip saved for future poetry.
how fallen, i, a soldier once so brave,
slain hopes interred in love's cold cemetery!
but, like a seed, i struggled from the dark
soil of ignominy (i caught my breath!),
craving of light the...
#love
#heartbroken
#breakup
#illness
#healing
123 reads
2 Comments
brenda
tribute to a resilient spirit
“For in Him we live, and move, and have our being…”―Acts 17:28
nor have i writ, nor angels sung,
if i write not for brenda
these few words, which are but fair dung
to Jesus, her Defender.
***
because she knows each breath swears not
the promise of another,
she tends each tittle and each jot
as though she were earth's mother,
relying not on circumstance
or fleeting bursts of passion,
but on secure reconnaissance
that Christ has fixed her ration,
...
“For in Him we live, and move, and have our being…”―Acts 17:28
nor have i writ, nor angels sung,
if i write not for brenda
these few words, which are but fair dung
to Jesus, her Defender.
***
because she knows each breath swears not
the promise of another,
she tends each tittle and each jot
as though she were earth's mother,
relying not on circumstance
or fleeting bursts of passion,
but on secure reconnaissance
that Christ has fixed her ration,
...
#strength
#hope
#courage
#inspirational
#faith
72 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by cabcool