Friction (Sweetbriar)

Friction (Sweetbriar)

See the companion piece Friction (Etheree).

Opposites clash.
Slow, abrasive,
each its ammunition:
carpet-bombing
napalm throws sparks,
filling the location.

Relentless strife,
shoving, pushing,
its predisposition
to pull down and back
relentlessly:
the prolonged collision.

4-26-2020

What is a sweetbriar?

April 2020 Poem-a-Day Challenge #25

Plague Skies (Gwawdodyn Byr)

Plague Skies (Gwawdodyn Byr)

the pallid skies flush with fevered clouds
each cough of thunder and drop cast doubt
over sunshine like a shroud, quarantined
till the quaking foundations settle down

lightning hides in nimbus cover, aims
its bah-bolts at passersby, lame
from their stumbling flight from enflamed fears
and rubbled homes lost in tectonic games

who will grab the corners of the earth,
steady its morse-code vibrations, spurn
the chaos with iron stability, grant
new limbs to the lame, wounded, and burned?

3-11-2020

What is a gwawdodyn byr?

Aflame to Gaze (Seadna)

Wherefore Gregory makes the contemplative life to consist in love of God, inasmuch as through loving God we are aflame to gaze on His beauty.

St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II-II,180,1.

The heat that spreads and warms also
Serves as light to repel the dark,
That warmed and lit we may bestow
On beauty as our fixèd mark.

11-12-2019

What is a Seadna?

November 2019 Poem-a-Day Challenge #5

Call Down Fire (Veltanelle)

I yield the javelin, buckler, and spear
To hands whose stronger grip
Can relax my fists, my fingers clenching
And my vain vengeance strip.
Let blessing then be my javelins hurled:
May kindness, goodwill, my banner unfurled.

Let the fire I call down upon their heads
Be the flames of mercy;
Let the wrath I deserve to feel, instead,
Fuel waiting patiently.
May my forested eyes be burned to ash
That I may see no foe, but brother, pass.

2-15-2019

Doused

Yesterday’s campfire doused and drenched with a hose
As the atmosphere begins to wring like a sponge–
The hissing, billowing smoke yields to the water
And I turn to leave.

But today, the wrung sponge is replaced by a faucet
And yesterday’s ash is gray and black mud–
But a hissing plume of smoke still rises in defiance
Before the embers leave.

10-14-2018