A big thank you to Strider Marcus Jones for including 

five of my poems in the Lothlorien Poetry Journal.

Yggdrasil’s Collapse

 

The mighty tree Yggdrasil grew from first existence.

Its sacred name was never writ.

 

Sadly, there are those who will one day 

chew away the tree to make paper. 

The reality will starve the world

because no words will fit upon the ornamented wood. 

Histories will not stand.

 

Right hand pages will be blank, 

and no more chimes shall ring.  

Left hand pages will be blank.

Planets shall be divested of 

the decisiveness of their vision. 

With a rush of air, 

the paper center will collapse

into a pillowed cloud of powder and ash.  

There will be no more winning allegiances, 

nor more presences of Spring.

 

The tremendous magnitude of the mistake, 

destined to be discovered too late, 

as the last of nations falls.

 

 

Admiring Brains

 

To aid the children of men,

a puzzling problem

arouses interest in the machinery of thought.

 

From embraced doctrines of dreams without disorder,

to flights of fancy,

it would be foolhardy to

forget our memories,

or fail to speak of them with candour.

 

Solutions can be accomplished by changing tactics.

 

Points and counterpoints

can be hammered and bent,

or modified as a shaped ball of clay.

 

The transparent medium of brains,

strong greys,

forming elaborate distinctions,

old and new fragments,

some startlingly fresh.

 

A bridge or tunnel built,

a vault, a dome, an arch,

all of impressive scale

added to the mental landscape.

 

As learning grows,

understanding changes upon the canvas

splashes stimuli of colour,

a head full of aurora borealis with dancing waves of light

as we seek to discover what the stars are for.

 

 

Rendezvous At The Intersection

 

Profound influences exerted

that struggle against dissolution 

now king of the road.

Signs markedly different,

once considerably distant to the next,

divisions of style paired with a contrast of values. 

 

Great minds may not think alike,

sloped surfaces may present as the lanes of despots, 

but a great many new elements,

reworked in some way

and incorporated into their own personal imagery,

will allow those tilting planes to flatten.

 

Inevitable thoroughfares of welded idealism

that fly in the face of peace are deconstructed.

Reimagined interlocked highways,

examined for a short time as risky shapes,

and held in abeyance,

become a fresh network for brotherhood.

 

And when strict comparisons are invited,

there will still be varying points of view.

It’s imperative to encourage divergent thought.

 

Borrowing philosophies,

intriguing varieties of thought advance,

and what can be bonded will become

of lasting interest to both.

 

 

A New Broom

 

A need expressed as a mighty force.

A new kind of piped light organizes my space,

that diverted thought creates

after the period of questioning is done.

 

I turn to business,

and develop the thick press of the sublime.

I act accordingly.

 

A new flow of tides, suddenly desired,

pours forth,

is cast into place,

sweeps away fine grains

of what was once wreckage

using clean grace,

adding sparkle to actions

in the search for salvation.

 

Old, bungled gripes,

my bygone testimonies of sticks and stones,

swept into a dustpan,

along with old, discouraged debate

fading into the background.

 

 

Dilemma

 

I’m caught in the whoops of a predicament.

Extraction is difficult.

 

My circumstances seem a double bind.

 

My fate appears to leave me

sinking inside a quagmire.

caught up in a sad, complex complication.

It looks like 

my epitaph might read

as an epigram of defeat.

 

However, the inscription shall be written 

in the style of dark humour,

depicting me facing such a trying position

using droll courage.

My triumph - 

my feet would eventually stand on solid rock.

 

The irony will be

that I was still damned either way.