On such a day when sea-moss skittered sand
on bare wet toes,
as sky-sail scuppered all need for dour grum,
you and I
shackled wonderment for a miniscule while.

All rile was left in a yesterday-mire and just
nothing felt slutchy
to our touch of contentment that afternoon.

On that day we chawed risps of clandestine
pleasure,
talked of delight and gloried in being fettered
together as gyve.

Those stolen moments hankled all the asurn
of heaven and earth.

On such a day we two for a shimmering time,
became gently alive,
bare passion slaked, was sleaved in smeddum
as never before;
hagseed may take tomorrow but we had what
we had waited for.

We pierced a rive in infinity on that azure day
you and I.


N.B.
Grum = gloomy, morose
Slutchy = mucky
Asurn = vault
Risp = green-leaf branch
Gyve = handcuffed
Sleaved = raw
Smeddum = energy

Not the lone glory of an orange
basking in Depression’s dusk—
its fluted bowl of purple glass

Nor the fall ways of amber
Leaves burned by roadside
curling smoke’s sun-lit sash

Not tree-lined streets
rabid leaves’ raspy voices
whirling giddy in the wind—

...in none of these

But in the moments I filled with fixing
a lamp shade
painting this place
to a stern perfection

...I thought of you
ordering the tyranny of me
the glass of me
the concrete conscience
I must be right!  Mustn’t I?

The religion of our lives
Driving through Sundays with Polkas blaring
feeding the ducks
and a roast at noon
Waffles and TV later
Lassie and You Asked For It
Wiping my mouth on a Sunday sleeve

I asked for it, alright

He came and went
to the smell of Ice Blue Aqua Velva

He came and went larger than life and first on the scene
to hurricanes, fires, muggings, and races
and of course—THE SHOP!
in an amazing array of uniforms and vehicles
Ambulances, wreckers, pickups, and police cars

He was terrifying! Wonderful!

We would love at a pained distance

His cabinet in the cellar was always locked
But now, just suppose—

if a kid were to haul on its handles...
supposedly—the sheet metal would heave and roar
with the thunder of him!

And those late nights
those harsh ****** lights
lidded hundred watt cones
in the spotlight of THERE
where I wasn’t
in the odor of oils too noxious to dare
beyond the girlish shadows—

he cleaned his guns

I waited and watched where everything seemed
to be
What...?
It seems—he just pushed her against a wall!
I step from girlhood
with my two-cents worth
and it seems I will not be Queen for a Day!

I take my vows!
I swear I will not scrape wax
from the corner of the kitchen floor with a knife!

I have waited.  I have watched
the routines of his mornings
He’s brushing his teeth; he’s combing his hair
he’s tying his shoes while he chats with the cat
I can tell you the creak of the stairs
and the sound of his footsteps rounding the house

...the routine of his return at supper
the routine of anger
My routine of being late—
and as good as dead
squeezing behind—
HIS CHAIR
Praying he wouldn’t notice the mud
Praying for the epiphany of his good mood
when the TV and me--

wouldn’t be blamed for the downfall of the nation

He tried to fix me,
And I was too clumsy,
I broke his heart so steadily,
A small rip and feelings trickled freely;

He tried to show me love,
And I fearful of things I don't have,
Dare not make the same gutsy move,
So instead I gave him a shove;

He tried to understand,
Why I'm afraid of making amends,
When all he did was extend a hand,
And I saw it as a start to many bitter ends;

He tried to show more than just care,
But I took one look and saw despair,
Afraid my temperament will be a scare,
For him to put up with from here on until there;

He tried to win,
And I a sore loser,
Only wanted to ink 'fin',
When there's a whole new chapter.

@byizn

the day
when even the not so faithful
were tempted to pray
for the health of the nation

America, I cannot close my eyes
Nor sheathe my skin color-
Which is that of which she was
Built upon-
Which was that where my ancestors
Were left under supremacists.

Look out and see the restless
Peoples rising with tides
Flourishing under nothing's banner,
How the planet has shrunken
Destroying proud origins
And lamenting the absence
Of patriotic diversity.

America I cannot look
Out in the wilderness of words
That cross this poet daily
And not fathom a poem that
Crosses borders and enigmatic
Skin tones, that water breaks
Itself upon the stone,
Yet blood would stain its surface,
Yes the sacrifice of fools.

I cannot close my eyes
Nor change my skin,
Here in the land of dreams
And the spinster's lamenting
Polishing blue and red tears.

America, much angst is flowing
From open wounds from yesterday
And tomorrow that comes crashing
At the precipice of dawn's early light.

I hear your pain America,
I watch with a selfish pride
At the pain we share,
The differences that unite us,
The words that explode in freedom,
Your stars are not lost
Upon the impenetrable sky.

In your depths you are one,
In the bitter difference of eachother
Filled with children and uncertainties,
We shall not fall gently.....

America, I cannot close my eyes,
I see the beauty of our nation,
America I cannot change my skin,
Nor would I care to.

America, beautiful mutilated rose,
I am convicted as a patriotic
Fool,
America I cannot close my eyes....

America, I will not.

If someone else wants to touch you I can't tolerate
But when  you bloom in my arms I really celebrate
My sweetheart you are my good fortune and not fate
My eyes carry your image which is wonderful ,great

My eyes kiss your beauty and my heart starts dance
Love and beauty are intoxicated in just real romance
My beloved hails from Italy and I hail from France
Let be real lovers and try to take chance after chance

My beloved I carry you in my eyes to my sweet dreams
In dream you and me together play with all light beams
You have taken my heart as a play game to me it seems
My soul plaintively cries and my heart in dejection screams

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 golden Glow