29 October 2014

To War

Storm Flag 
8 feet by 14 feet
Fort Sumter National Monument

To war
derives from
words meaning
to confuse, to perplex, to bring into confusion
Germanic words
to avoid
mistaking Latin
bellum with bella.

War is not beautiful.

Noisy fireworks
confuse me.
I too
am perplexed 
by their 
fumes and 
their intent
to entertain.

Concepts and colors are beautiful,
but war is not.

Rocket red
lights up
my country tis of thee’s
anthem and flag
loud and dark

Beautiful war? or dumb luck?

I never war—never consciously
perplex or confuse anyone.
    Ha!  You confuse me!
Not intentionally.
Besides war
is prolonged violent
collective struggle.
I never war, but
people war against me.

And it is not beautiful.

    You are beautiful.
No, I am not!
     Are we warring?
Not with each other
but maybe
the audience
is perplexed.

Audience members are innocent.

Unless they intend
to watch
and to be confused for a while.
And hurt.  
When it is a prolonged
violent struggle
with weapons.
    But they are bystanders!
    They are innocent.
Not if they pay
to get in.
Not if they earn
money from it.
Not if they prolong it.
     You are confusing me.

War is not pretty.

     It’s pretty confusing.
Let’s talk about peace instead.
     Do we have a flag
     and anthem
     for peace?

Inspired by Gabriella's prompt 

Poetics – War Poetry at dVerse Poets Pub

(The info in the first stanza is from Wikipedia's War.)

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

To the Nightingale

The Rape of Philomela by Tereus, engraved by Virgil Solis,
1562 edition of Ovid's Metamorphoses (Book VI, 519-562).

Philomela, lover of fruit and sheep,
I join your lament for this raped planet.

Nightly I sing your song, but out of key
with nightingale’s legendary revenge.

Odd they should call him husband whose false act
destroyed Give-and-Take’s delicate balance.

Husbandry was born for better not worse,
not for bleeding the land that feeds us all.

And song was born for life and joy not death,
for day sun and storms, not nighttime’s shadows.

Philomela, will lament restore your
love and heal your mutilated body? 

Sweet Hermaphrodite, can nothing reform
those who cut their way into your nature?

Inspired by Susie's Bits Of Inspiration ~ Nightingale
at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

28 October 2014

The Great Relay

When October hands off the baton to November,
earthly time stretches to  a l m o s t  breaking point
and I see beyond this material world
into under- and over-world spirit.
Woodland sprites lure me to ritual,
challenge my terror of dead ones
 and my caution near magic,
and compel me to where
gods know each other
and God welcomes
travel back
and forth
belief systems.
Here, safe and holy,
I name my cat Wicca,
invoke Gaia, He-cat-e,
Saints and Jesus, eat with my
dead, circle and drum with sisters.
We then pray for the New Year and record
wishes on snips of cloth and papers to burn
away or plant deeply in next year’s grounding earth
for nurture until Winter hands the baton to Spring.

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

26 October 2014

The Knell

For Poe by Odilon Redon

you hear
bells?  You
asked for them
and we
clang dong
clang dong clang—
We knew you loved
their echoes.
Did you
Or were
you too soon
soon a-

For Margaret's Play it Again, Toads #10Dance the Night Away, the Waltz Wave Form by Kerry at Imaginary Garden with real Toads.

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

Believe Me

File:Friendship love and truth.jpg
 Currier & Ives

When I tell you I believe you
I am not talking about faith
There has been no leap, my feet hold.

Grounded in my experience
I know you and thus I trust you.
Believe me.

I can’t believe I said that! O
How easy to say believe—like
Love—a word overused when not.

Acted or lived—never over-
I’m done using words not born from
Experienced relationship.

You need not believe me.  Come here
If you wish.   Come closer to me
I  won’t shield myself from you.

Posted for Poets United Poetry Pantry #224

Inspired by today's Richard Rohr's Meditation on Trust.

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

24 October 2014

Ghost story

She never slept alone
what with the goblins
in the walls and trolls
under the bed and ghosts
in the closet.  In terror
she cocooned herself,
wound blankets around
so no skin and not a strand
of hair betrayed her presence.
And don’t breathe.  Until
one came who breathed
comfort and who loosened
the fears that bound her
and slipped in cool when
she was hot and warm when
she was cool, toes mingling
with toes, face to face.
with a coo like a mother
and sighs like a lover
and touch to remove head-
aches and tension lines
so her rest was sound.
Who can compete? You
who think to embrace
her loneliness and ground
her nights would be
one too many, too long
has this charm calmed her
nights without questions
without peaking, with
out demands or dreams
and without speaking.

Inspired by Grapeling's 

Get Listed for October - Ghost Stories

at Imaginary Garden withn Real Toads
(without the word list).

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast