Ascending: A Poem

I dream of swimming up
through a velvet ocean,
ascending towards the purple dawn.
Sometimes when I reflect upon my life
it seems I've always been submerged.
I'm fighting my way up a steep incline
to a new world
where life will finally be manageable
all my conflicts tied up
in a neat white bow.


This was a word bank poem: 


velvet, steep,purple,neat,reflect

Poem: After Reading Many Depressing Poems

Sometimes I can only wonder
is it adversity that kills us
or this mindless, soul-numbing apathy?
Not the rushing tidal wave
that overwhelms
but the cold incessant dripping
of water on stone
flowing to
that noxious, mud -corrupted 
stagnant pool
That drowns us

Poem: Frozen Thunder

Frozen Thunder: Reflections on a Painting of the Battle of Waterloo


Sadly, I've lost the link to the painting that inspired this, but it was a rendition of the Battle of Waterloo, complete with charging horses, firing muskets, and soldiers lying dead on the battlefield.


The short, staccato beats, the cries,
the moans of wounded, smell of musket smoke
Captured in time, silent
Still, like gray slated stones
that sit so neatly, row on endless row.
We have forgotten them -
their names, their lives, their private battles
Their loves, their families, their secret hopes and dreams
In that place where hope curdles
clumps together, runs like pus
weeping from infected wounds.
Marching down hills, the soldiers came.
In pressed, stiff uniforms, they came.
Floods bursting from the dam of reason,
Soldiers came.
In that place where the sun darkened
where the soil was kissed with blood.
From sticks and stones to guns, to bombs
Through the days and down the years
War goes on and on.

The Pack

"The Pack"

This is their fierce circle.
They range round the bloodstained snow.
Reclining
on hairy paws.
With their claws and
things sharper.
They wouldn't like the comparison
With their costumes
in yellows and blues.
Their fastidiously applied war paint.
And the chanting that
comes with the territory.
Carefully orchestrated moves
to bring down the big game.
They wait and wait.
For any sign of weakness
and then pounce.

Authors Note: Dedicated to some cheerleaders of my acquaintance. This poem appears on helium. To see how it was rated, go to the site http://www.helium.com/items/1536165-poetry-on-bullying