Tag: Imagery

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Of That Which I Speak

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Teeth gnawing bone to marrow.
Blood red spatters along a predator’s mouth.
Death taints the air with sickening sorrow.
But is it beast or man,
of that which I speak?

Cold and harsh with icy wind.
Needles stinging lungs with each breath.
Nipping frost along dew-moist eyes.
But is it love or hate,
of that which I speak?

Perspective.
Infective.
Detective.
Corrective.

Flowing outward in diverging currents.
Sounds both entrancing and distracting.
While in the middle of it all drifts dead-wood.
But is it a river or a crowd,
of that which I speak?

A million more ways it could be put.
Perhaps infinite more than that.
Going round and round in circles.
But is it life or death,
of that which I speak?

Poetry-Thing Thursday: The Species Human

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

A classic abridged,
s’like an empty fridge;
all potential courage,
but no porridge,
n’ dropped from’a ridge,
takes less damage,

for there’s nothing spoiled,
nor laboriously toiled,
and man a-foiled,
when reality’s roiled,
the would-be uncoiled,
to be re-boiled.

Humanity’s no dif’rent,
that much’s apparent,
sanity for-rent,
while ev’ry torrent,
of life goes unspent.

And empty are minds,
that should’a been fined,
by their own kind,
when forced to remind,
of the contract signed,
and battles they’d wined.

If not for facts,
we’d be without tact,
for solemn’s the tract,
which man does attract,
but when he’s in pact,
he uses his knack’t,

for wit and creation,
to seek out libation,
from life’s equation,
with hopeful elation–
sunny prostration,
and ocular dilation.

So may we rejoice,
with robust-like voice,
and plentiful choice,

in light of day,
with a better way,
where none can say,
that we didn’t try,
whether obvious or sly,
to use up, fly,

as one greater than kin,
or any name-pin–
the species Human.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: A Terrible Thing to Waste

~ S.M. Nolan ~ 3 Comments

An open mind,
is a terrible thing to waste.
So provide it wings,
and let it soar upward,
beyond infinity.

Suckle wisdom,
from the leaves of its trees,
wet from fresh rain of dreams,
and cupped with hopeful pleas.

Take heed warnings,
from those you trust have learned,
and be certain to always,
trust in your instincts when spurned.

Do not withdraw,
in fear or hesitation.
Instead press forward,
with immovable determination.

For life is short,
and merely is–
and an open mind,
is a terrible thing to waste.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Endless Circle

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Broken glass and showers of sparks,
rain down on the asphalt,
that’s slick-black with ice.

A foot hammers pedal to metal,
unaware of tragedy on the horizon,
that’s rushing to greet it at light-speed.

Across the neon-soaked city of money and night life,
a new mother gives birth at the same instant,
that life leaves the accident victim’s eyes.

A seemingly endless circle is formed by these events,
but it is only after viewing them from afar,
that we begin to see their form.

Without the benefit of perspective,
the world would be one dimension; all flat,
no height nor depth, only a dot on a page.

Imagine what we might see,
if zoomed to the grandest scale–
stars, galaxies, a universe.

Perhaps, like neurons and synapses in the brain,
they are connected with purpose.
Perhaps then, we are but DNA– or something smaller yet,
with a role just as great.

Then again, perhaps not.
Only time,
and perspective,
of the endless circle,
may tell.