Gloomstones Vol 3 part 3

Poetry is to express emotions with words,
If these words are as if stones, Which I’ll call Gloomstone,
Then I’d be piling them up like a rough wall around a graveyard,
Not keeping out, not keeping in, just a line,
A method to define what is within.

Sand: a Sestina poem

Bright sunlight burns the day
Parch, red scorch dries the skin,
Pour water soaks not the sand
Drinks just sinks slakes no thirst
Bleak to seek the shimmer sight,
Fall to crawl on blistered hand.

Hand in sand red the skin,
Slow the go midst the thirst,
Day burns way simmers sand,
Slake and take away sight
Crossed and lost crawling day,
Dry goes by death’s at hand

Yard by yard across sand
Slips and trips to burnt hand,
Gasp and grasp through the day,
With the grit scrapes the sight,
Not forgot always thirst
Yearns the burns flaying skin.

Scrapes and breaks of the skin,
Grind the mind cripples hand
Rays always burning day
Lodge mirage to the sight
Lake to slake endless thirst
Back the track shifting sand

Feel it peal off the hand,
Makes life flakes of the skin,
Down to ground lost in sand,
Bit by bit drying thirst
Moves in groves of lost sight.
Fight the bright that is day.

Be harshly ever thirst,
Be brightly all the day,
Be blindly lost of sight,
Be hotly red stain skin
Learn the burn of the sand
Feel the peal of death’s hand.


As you wander the day in endless trackless sight,
Scraped and burnt skin moving by foot and hand,
If you ever quench your thirst will you return to the sand.

G

Sestina
A kind of a poem having six six-line stanzas and a three line envoy:
The end words of the first stanza are repeated with progressively changed
order in the other five stanzas and are included, medially and finally,
In the envoy.

~ ~ . ~ ~ . ~ ~

This next poem isn’t any particular named style,
Just an image that popped into my brain.

Silenced Sounds

Dark is the night as he comes creeping on,
Moon is in clouds as the rain recedes down,
Dripping, slowing, ending, splashing,
Birds on their roost as they wait for the dawn,
Still in their nest as movement on the ground,
Slipping, sliding, rending slashing,
Spent is the storm as if goes raging harm,
Still are the birds and if not silent found,
slowing, going, shading, fading,
Short is the night as he goes sleeping on,
Till there are birds to return cheerful sounds.

G

This next poem is written in what I have termed my style
13 lines, although this has two stanza of 13 lines each.

Coinage

T’was a time,
When a conversation line,
Across miles
To hear smiles
Only cost you one thin dime,
Not this time.
And paper,
Financed a night’s wild caper,
You could go
To the show,
And still stop for a flower,
To buy her.

Time inflated with passage.

But what do we choose to spend,
What coinage,
How many dimes to call a friend,
Better add a quarter now,
The coinage
Shrunk down in value somehow,
So can’t you afford the price
The coinage,
Pay the effort to be nice,
Spend the time to talk once more,
Small coinage
Friendly chatter as before.

Life’s deflated with passage.

G
(actually the last line should be another 3, but I wanted to tie the
two stanzas together more and thought this would do it)

I guess I should dredge the depth of older poems and add something from there,
Hmmmmmmmm ,what one might do?

Left in Darkness

Darkness
Surrounds me
It hounds me
Impounds me
It binds me
Confines me
Entwines me

Black Leather,
No sparkle or studs flashing,
She walks by,
Boots thigh high,
With droplets of blood splashing
Sweat sweating
Blood letting,
Drawing blood with leather whips,
And she pounds,
Like heart sounds,
And the rhythm never slips,
Black Leather,
Pale ghost white skin with red stripes.

She leaves me
And grieves me,
Left alone
Just to moan,
And beg some
Attention.

G
Yes, a fine note to leave the Stone upon;


If you think of someone whom might like these Gloomstones
Either forward them the email you have gotten, of give them my email,
And when they request I will add them to my list.

If you tire of these Gloomstones Dark and dismal nature
Then write me and I will remove your name.
e-mail pgloom@hotmail.com

Although I don’t mind if you forward my work to others
Please do not post my material on public boards.
Thank you,
Professor Gloom