Tag: Poems

Bonus Poem: Possible Realities

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

There is a face,
that colors my memories,
from a time long-passed,
of childhood vulnerabilities,
but looking back,
the face bears pleas,
for love and attention,
that its owner buries,
so that it might still weather,
the coming, stormy seas.

There was something then,
that I must have sensed;
a touch of daring,
in eyes, courageous, tensed,
of full earthen-hue,
or when red and incensed.
It was something that changed,
as we grew older, condensed,
into creatures arising
to rest in minds, en-fenced.

But age has withered the old,
replaced images with new,
as each passing moment,
becomes fewer and few,
and time marches onward,
ever distancing we two,
These thoughts of what could’ve been,
leave me seeking a clue,
to the truth of past moments,
and whether you see them too.

But we may never know,
what could have been,
and dwelling too long,
keeps us from looking when,
life comes a-calling.
Maybe we shouldn’t imagine,
for the roads have diverged, and in,
the light of the past,
possible realities are broken.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Life’s Unending Quest

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Surf the great wave,
from atop a coral cave,
while throwing down the glaive,
for there’s Humanity to save,
and all the free and knave,
deserve to rant and rave,
about the fluids they gave,
to the insane and the brave.

And they wish they could’ve known,
before their fates were sown,
that gold-thread and bone,
and all the God-like tone,
had writ upon the cone,
that fate could not be postpone,
but instead they went alone,
and got lost there on their own.

Rarely did they sit,
while wand’ring in fit,
as the Earth’s great golden tit,
nourished them with wit,
they took for granted it,
and wound up forced to quit,
and to defeat admit.

There they settled down,
each wearing their frown,
for each was made a clown,
and lost all their renown–
and even each their noun–
to end up quite uptown,
for the ever-sparkling crown,
had turned them all aroun’.

Even at their best,
each was forced to rest,
having never passed the test,
of life’s unending quest,
for food and cumly breast,
such matters not in jest,
however doth protest,
find peace in their arrest.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: To Show

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Sycophantic psycho cat,
stepping up to the bat,
beats her cleats upon the mat,
to ready up her brilliant stat,
and lift the corner of her hat,
while the umpire and the catcher, fat,
are wishing they’d instead sat.

After the game she’ll go to see,
visions of eternity,
in raving drug and booze party,
where perhaps she’ll meet me,
for some psychedelic tea,
that will force us into memory,
and leave us stranded out at sea.

Perhaps then we’ll make a bet,
that could never be reset,
especially if we haven’t met,
or maybe she may take me yet,
her loins throbbing, pulsing wet,
and then I, she will get,
with expert-knotted, new fish-net.

Maybe we’ll win,
feel skin to skin,
as I dive in,
deep in her satin,
wet warm I pin,
she feels me within,
committing original sin.

More likely though,
we’ll never know,
what the future could sow,
were we to go,
together, en-tow,
all others hollow–
should’ve put my money to show.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Soar

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Withered and ashen gray,
curled beneath full moonlight,
the wind whispers incessant seductions,
while midnight rivers drain of blood,
and the scent of a fresh kill taints the air.

In the distance coyotes are calling.
Who or where is as equally our question as theirs.
Beneath them is the sound of even-further waves,
they crest with crescendo, their sea a symphony.

Between here and there is all reality,
but if no-one is there to witness it,
it fades.
Thus men of faith, religion,
pay homage to imagined creatures,
so that it might forever remain.

There is something to be said here of hope,
belief its benefactor, life its assassin.
So that it might meet reality, too, in the end.
But the abyss is wide,
deep,
ever growing.

Serpents’ forked tongues can sense death on the air,
like crimson blood tainting white wine.
There are no secrets to life.
No greater meaning.
There is only existence and those that exist.

Take heed this lesson.
Remember it.
For no meaning,
no purpose,
is true freedom.
We are bound by no shackles.
Soar.