BRAVE
Fearless
Selflessness
Never gave it a thought
Did what I knew I ought
Stepped up, cried out ‘This is wrong!’
“The right thing, not the easy thing”
I found the form here, on Shadow Poetry
BRAVE
Fearless
Selflessness
Never gave it a thought
Did what I knew I ought
Stepped up, cried out ‘This is wrong!’
“The right thing, not the easy thing”
I found the form here, on Shadow Poetry
The lazy conflation of want and need
Consumerism’s ever-open maw
The thoughtless idolisation of greed
Self-sacrifice on the alter of more
Our bellies full with abligurition
Starvation remains for too many poor
It’s lack of food, lack of nutrition
Failure to meet a basic human need
Hunger for stuff will destroy us indeed
Quests don’t have to be publicised
Unsung heroes can stay that way
I have no need of applause, vacuous or otherwise
Each challenge risen to is its own reward
Talk to me of gratitude and being
Let go of the banging drum
Out with the needless praise and the hollow ‘like’
Unfriend those vexations to the spirit
Disconnect from the constant noise
I’m enjoying playing with new poetry forms. This one’s a Florette. The rhyme scheme is a,a,b,a, and the meter is 8,8,8,12. The
fourth line has a requirement of internal (b) rhyme scheme, which I quite like, on syllable 8. The prompt for this one was ‘a disaster poem‘.
The shrill alarm of wakening Banishes the dream, preventing A return to enfolding sleep His limbs obey like mindless sheep, mind-state changing A bleary face cold-splashed awake A stretch and a yawn ease the ache Day begins as ev'ry other Body pulls itself together, new day, retake Downstairs, en-robed, all good so far Kitchen, kettle and breakfast bar All he needs now is the coffee He opens the cupboard to see the empty jar
Kwanza lodge Kwanza River River of dreams River of schemes Schemes of lust Schemes of joy Joy in itself Joy in being Being here Being near Near to bliss Near to this This escape This repose Repose required Repose inspired Inspired by beauty Inspired by calm Calm as day Calm as night Night closes in Night enfolds Enfolds the spirit Enfolds the dream Dream of me Dream of you You in harmony You at peace Peace and quiet Peace flows Flows like a river Flows through everything Everything, everywhere Everything right Right for here Right for now Now, the moment Now, the place Place in time Place in history History winks History thinks Thinks of today Thinks of a way Way to make amends Way to move on On my own On the way Own Way
Neurons firing Across carriageways Under construction Messages half sent Half-received Half conceived Fantastical plans Free of consequence Free of sense Forging ahead To freedom Independence Responsibility looming 'Clean your room' ing All happening too soon Errors of judgement Under the spotlight Decisions of ego Seemed like Such a good idea At the time Practicing adulthood Without the tools Ill-equipped Metaphorically Hand-held And understood Letting go Safety-netted Still abetted A journey toward Self-actualisation A revelation
Burn the wick
Just as the flame can burn the hand That strays incautiously too close Blistered reminder of impulse So the hand can snuff the flame, command Extinguish the light and the heat Its purpose quashed and incomplete Gentle shielding will understand Nurture, direct the naked light Use its power for doing right Protect the flame,reprimand The feisty draught set to blow out The light offering to end doubt The thoughts and actions left unplanned In darkness fester and take on A life, a needless marathon Illuminated, become grand The candle flickers and breathes life Burning passions put paid to strife
Essence
A precious gift winged back graciously with a newfound comrade
Requested, admittedly, but despite that still nicely played
Tiny little thoughtful gestures, building bridges, setting scenes
Providing succour, nourishing, customising host cuisines
What begins as a love/hate relationship makes us braver
This is now a comfort, familiar and homely savour
More heartfelt, problematic and contentious than mere flavour
Let me open your secrets and won’t you come to my aid?
Darker and scarier than multitudinous Halloweens
It’s a matter of taste, I insist, my point to belabour
© 2020 Scott Langston
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