Lyrical Ramblings
Lyrical Ramblings
a little book of poetry
by
Stacy Stutz
Copyright Stacy Stutz
Table of Contents
Foreword
Dedication
Momentary Zen
Angry Young Woman
Flights of Fancy
Throes of Love and Hate
Reflection Pool
Author’s Note
Foreword
Poetry is for the young, the foolish – the idealistic among each generation. Some follow rigorous rules – tucking inspiration into set lines, rhymes and rhythm while others prefer the free flow of words that tumble out with tenuous threads capturing them together in a semi-cohesive bundle – or not. The desired results are the same; poets want to engage you, the reader, with powerful thoughts and imagery that invoke, evoke and provoke.
Poetry is for the old, the wise – the realist of past generations.
Anger-ridden angst filled children that know nothing of the truths in this world write poetry. It is written by free spirits who long to share a glimpse of the beauty they see every day. It is penned, pecked and jotted down on bits paper by those whose emotionally outbursts cannot be contained, or shared. Poetry is the voice of the one who will not speak.
For me, poetry is the music in my heart and mind.
Dedication
Daddy:
A man great and strong.
He gave me strength, he’s now gone.
Memory kept alive deep in my writer’s soul
and it’s in his name that I strive.
He gave me more than morals,
more than any could know.
He gave me my dreams.
His love for me had,
no boundaries,
no limits,
no end.
Belief was all it took,
a gift he gave to free
I miss the man who taught
words are powerful tools.
He believed I had the talent,
to wield them with ease.
My heart aches with sorrow,
knowing he will never see,
the fruits of his devotion to me.
I will cross the barrier of white capped waves,
far from the safe haven of the bay behind me.
Taking to the ocean as we did that day,
we said forever good-bye.
Momentary Zen
Naturally…
Autumn
Noisy chattering
black speckled breasted birds fly
southward bound to roost.
Flocks landing upon
fire red fruit laden trees
stripping them leaf bare.
Sweet tones on thin air
songbirds season finale
the mating dance done.
Feathers fall lightly
worn ragged and torn from use
of the seasons passed.
Ring added this year
dead dry leaves litter the ground
graceful lines, nude boughs.
Autumnal fire dancing
on darkening skies
the gloaming begins.
Night falling early
slipping into tomorrow
the chill of dawn breaks.
Cool air breathes upon
silver gilded leaf litter
mourning icy lace.
Cinders
Cinders on the hearth
blackened soul left to ashes
life begetting death.
Fire
Bolting from heaven
silver white heat destinies
strike with hot fury.
Fire consuming
new life and green tender limbs
debris cleared away.
Heat boiling the sap
running through the golden heart
of the proud oak tree.
Dry tinder explodes
red hot sparks of destruction
foster the fire.
Seedpods bursting forth
germination from the flames
settle in white ash.
Purifying heat
baptizing absolution
cleansing by fire.
Life forged by the flames
tender new shoots emerging
to smoke tainted air.
Glass Beaches
Verdant greens abound
cut‑glass crystal clear water
lapping up white sands.
Reflections of paradise lived
in fractured waves of reality.
Morning Haibun
Morning is a special time, when the sun crests the horizon bringing light and warmth to
mother earth. Never is this more apparent than in the spring. Trees budding and
exploding in glorious color the dreariness of winter becoming an echo of memory. It is a
good time to quietly reflect on the past and dream of the future.
Light slipping over
cresting of the pinnacle
baptism of earth.
Perished memories
fertile soils of tomorrow
spawn the dreams to come.
Life’s Coil
Lovers touch lingers
as the sun reaches zenith
cresting pinnacle.
Fruits of the labor
forged with eternal spirit
born unto the world.
Enlightenment gained
attained in life’s endless coil
fulfillment complete.
Life’s Renewal
Hope eternal springs
as tender new shoots begin
reaching for the sun.
Unfurling to light
gathering inner energy
husks fall to the ground.
Blossoms delightful
petals sweetly scent the air
as the south wind blows.
Bee’s buzz lazily
from bloom to satiny bloom
pollen clinging tight.
Season’s of Life
Leaves fully open
tiny buds of fruit appear
life’s continuance.
Sighs upon a winters winds gale,
laughter, lonely in a cool forest glade.
Soft summer winds billow the sail,
while we sip Margareta’s in the shade.
Linger a moment, cherish the earth renewed,
sweet blossom, burgeoning upon the knoll.
Mountains patch worked, admiring the view,
cloaked, Mother - nature sharing her soul.
Summer Flowers
Burgeoning tight bud
hold fast against humid heat
slide slowly open.
Slipping petals push
outwards fanning petticoats
behold natures gift.
Heavy heads swaying
lazily in light warm winds
soporific scent.
The Glade
Awash in green light,
sun-dapples delight
upon dancing—
among sparkling
dew droplets.
Deepening shadows
gather pools of light.
Moss bound banks
binding soil,
the lazy stream
bites - nips away
Mother Earth.
Yellow flowers
thin stalks,
perfume misty air.
Tall pines tang scent
veils thinly
the dank must
of decay,
humus.
Angry Young Woman
an angst filled child
> Anger
Words spoken in haste-
zesty bitter lemon rinds
leave you spitting
dust settling ‘round ankles
shins black ‘n blue;
kid shoes hit their mark.
Desert Sands
Winter, spring - fall, summer.
The winter of my heart falls in spring.
The heat of a summer’s day burns furious,
an inferno beneath azure winter skies
in the desert.
Rats dig holes in the shifting sands,
a timeless land standing still no more.
Winds blow
sugar-fine demons of dust swirling,
eroding walls built to enclose emotion.
Hate, love – jealousy, fear.
Love begetting hate, when jealousy
allows fear to propagate in minds
of foolish people,
who believe they, alone, are right.
Worms eat flesh; deepen the holes
while bodies rot beneath the sands
of land that moves, undulating, changing
never standing still,
and yet, left unchanged in the hearts of men, women,
children.
There are those who believe, who know
the sands will erode walls of hate.
A single, sharp-edged, grain etching deeply
burrowing into the buttress until,
at last, it crumbles back into the tides
of undulating earth..
West to East
Sun up and the day begins,
crisp yellow light blooming over
the horizon yellows, tangerines
pinks cut fresh from the garden, dying faster
in cut crystal
filled with stagnant water spilling
on wood, racing towards the edge
of eternity
to drip slowly down on vinyl floors,
more comfortable to the foot than tile.
Droplets of water wash away yesterday's
grimy footprints to be sopped up
by a musty old sponge that sits beside
a clean sink of dirty dishes that will serve
a luncheon to ladies wearing pearls
choking swan necks
clad in yesterdays fashions imported
from China, India, Pakistan and they wonder
with fluttering hands
why the economy is heading south to Mexico
slipping behind the wheel of Hyundai’s fortune
returning to empty nests to roost
as the sun dips low to the west returning
home in the East.
Shroud
Threads ragged edge used cloth of life
frayed, soft fringe and tired colors
ravaged by light, touch and tears
swaddling new life, shroud of shadows
that dance across many souls.
Bull’s Twilight
Blazing cardinal banner snaps to attention,
huffs of steamed breath expel from flaring nostrils.
Eyes, shot with blood, narrow as the magenta sky burns
away the day’s last vestiges – hope.
Needle sharp stiletto blade, finding its mark, sinks
deep to the hilt. Billowing rage rents the air,
as a thin scarlet trickle,
droplet of life,
falls unheeded
to earth.
Prideful beast, head thrust to the heavens.
Vermilion shafts of light fading fast, dusk’s
slender fingers slide in, reclaiming shadows.
And he tucks his head to his chest in a final
defiant charge, gorging the air with fury
against that crimson pennant of pain.
Shuddering, the ground quakes in his wake
as dust demons ride his flanks
spurning his fury.
Liquid golden dagger of light consecrates the
night, desecrates the day. Mother Earth
gracelessly receiving the behemoth weight
to her breast, sanguine stain blooming
a winter’s rose, viscously forced
by man’s own hand.
Punishment
Now I lay you down to sleep
Slicing through the soft sinew
and tissue, you stole the breath
of life, a father to a son, gone.
I pray the Lord, your soul to keep
Today you reap the rewards,
the fruition of promises made,
apples, bitter from tainted soil.
If you die before you wake
Almond scents the air around you,
inhaled deeply, accept the acrid
aftertaste following you to afterlife.
I pray the Lord, your soul to take
Delivering you to the bowls of hell,
brimstone and sulfur cloak you in
acid blankets of torment.
In the Name of the Father,
The man you took from
the Son,
will never play ball with.
the Holy Ghost:
Have pity on your soul,
I will not.
Amen
Loathing
you are
nothing
in
My eyes.
you mean
less to
Me
than the
filth on a
camel's
ass.
Be gone
from My
sight you
loathsome
toad.
your intellect
less
than a
fleck of
spittle.
your
arrogance
is beyond
all measure.
The
very sight
of you
is more
than
I will bear.
I loathe you
Cardinal Song
Silenced- our cardinal song, essence shattered
into discordant broken melodies.
Folderol of the heartache- so battered.
The livid bruises of disharmony.
Souls sliced asunder, love sours to hate
and fervent steel bequeaths entwining scars
now tangled threads, we seek to extricate
from silken bonds as they begin to mar.
Ensnared cruelly, blindly love falls apart.
Raining tears- abandon your emotion-
descending fears locked fast in the lost heart.
Sufferance, life devoid of devotion.
Indifferent to passions sweet symphony,
yet, in your eyes I seek epiphany.
Fear
I lived in Fear, Insecurity
leading to Jealousy, Hate
living Deaf Dumb and Blind
Eyes wide open
staring
at the world
blind
to all shut tight
lids heavy with
sleep of a dreamer
A face
Soulless reflecting eyes
window to the soul
Blinded by emotion
shine with harsh light
Deaf to my pleas
You hear, but don’t listen
You speak but say nothing
words echo’s of nothing
empty promises
singing discordant
harmony
never the song.
Flights of Fancy
bits of fluff and nonsense
Four Seasons
Hot hazy, lazy days of summer,
red riot of overblown roses,
their petticoats litter
the ground below –
scented carpeting crushed
between a child’s kool-aide
stained hands.
Groovy grape lips,
greedily sucking the juices,
trails from quickly melting
refreshments clutched tightly
to keep safe from the puppy
whipping tail.
Faded blooms
dead-headed to
propagate more
more,
more,
‘til the leaves turn
dark green and lose
their luster under the
punishing
shimmering
heat of the solstice.
Painted matron
garish orange yellow
and gold,
robes set ablaze
the new light
angled to show
her at her best.
Behind gouged out gourds
flickering candles burn
the soft inner flesh
and goblins,
ghoulies,
witches
trip lightly up
the steps sing songing
mantra from candied lips.
Her pretty plumage falls
unheeded
in piles of decay – rotting
beneath the emerging skeleton.
Bare bones striking
against the purest shade of blue,
crisp cold air allowing the truth
of the heaven’s reflections seen.
White cold blanket
tucks her in for the winter’s night.
Cross hatched across virgin snow,
sparrows lay lacy trails
obliterated,
whuomp,
by a falling angel.
Leftover leaves hang
stubbornly, refusing to fall
to the frost hardened ground,
rattling dry old rustling - in the winds.
Bobbling yellow heads
threatened decapitation
on stems so fine, so weak,
heralding the coming of renewal time.
As sweet rains cleanse the earth,
clearing cobwebs from the heavens,
blown on the March currents.
Lightly bundled tots
clutch tight with pudgy hands
spools of fine twine and above
towheads, dancing on the streams
of the lions roar - kaleidoscopic kites aflutter.