Tag Archives: consequence

What lies beneath

Uncomfortable in his skin,
He vowed it would never happen again.
He claimed mostly he was disappointed in him.

But allowing time for reflection,
It turns out he lied.
Yes, he was disappointed—
Even in his self—
But more than that,

Disappointed he didn’t act
When the timing was right,
Sorrowful for the confusion,

And heartbroken at missed opportunity.

The Cocoon and the Butterfly

Oh, return to me, my cocoon!
In days gone by I tried to flee
Thy protecting wall;
Enticed by a beautiful butterfly,
Beautiful, smart, and cunning;
Who passed by to catch my eye.
Confident you were holding me back,
I tried to flee, but it made my skin crawl.

One day I fled, I pushed through thy barrier;
I was free to pursue the dazzling beauty.
But it took time for my wings to dry.
As I waited she passed on signals,
Intended or no, that she fancied me.
At long last, my wings dry, I tested them.
They felt strong, they felt beautiful.

I sought an answer to the paradox
That to know whether I’d like to fly
On a long journey with her at my side,
I’d need to spend more time with her;
Yet making the request could rend her desire.

I forgot lesson learned, and sought
A simple answer to a simple question.
I fluttered and flew ’til I came to her;
The air around was warm,
Warm as the day man discovered fire.
I asked if she would for a time fly with me.
But lo! I took too long, or she forgot,
Or she was filled with treachery, I thought.
I play no games, words at face value take.
My beauty was sufficient, she had already revealed,
But by her words she chose disinterest,
And I, I nearly froze.

Come back to me, my safe cocoon!
Bring back the crawling of my flesh.
Protect me once again, and I’ll grow,
I’ll grow more beautiful than before.
Let her do whatever she will;
I will emerge when metamorphosis completes,
A grander thing with prettier hues.

Can a butterfly enter a second time into his cocoon?

I spent a sleepless night, defenseless;
Vulnerable as I tried to find you, my cocoon.
I carried on with my life, sad, solemn, painted smile,
Until time and circumstance provided that simple answer:
Her response, “Why would you ask me that?”
May have meant something else to her,
But for me it is the pointing finger of rebuke:
By asking that simple question,
I lost a slice of honor, and with it beauty,
As the missing honor reveals my inner caterpillar.
Treachery it was not, but her wings fluttered
More true than mine, flailing and ripping from caterpillar me.

I look about to find she has fled,
Distancing herself by degrees;
A dream I had while still cocooned,
Before I ever saw her, stands partially fulfilled.
In the dream after she fled, I could not find her,
And I became a creature most reprehensible.
Oh take me back, my cocoon,
Heal my self-inflicted wound!
Let me not arrive at the fate foretold.

But can a butterfly enter a second time into his cocoon?
I can’t seem to find you, my cocoon; gone as the butterfly.
So I seek building blocks of water and bread, flesh and blood.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

Gone As The Year

Gone are the days when she parented me,
Saying, “You should come with us sometime;”
Should being a parenting word,
Not a word for use with an equal.

Gone are the days when she talked with me,
Free as the dawn, bright as a butterfly.
Plauged with constrained conversation,
No give-and-take reciprocation.

That year is gone; now I get the silent treatment
Or paying no attention to me,
Only to others around.
A test of jealousy?

I feel no jealousy, only self-respect.
Of him, nor him, nor him am I jealous.
Rather, I respect myself to enforce this condition:
Pay attention to me, talk with me, be an equal.

Today the condition is not held.
Today she has only deliberately ignored.
Today is filled with inequality.
So I fill my heart with disregard.

Tomorrow I’ll try to disregard today.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

Related Posts:

Three Misses

Soaking wet

Leaving work one day I took my AWD vehicle through a patch of snow that wasn’t plowed. The magnitude of my velocity vector was too small, inspiring the second stanza. My pants and gloves got soaked trying to dig the snow out from underneath.

Was it this word,
Or that, that she said?
“Life” he thought he heard,
But ’twas spoken while she fed;
“Mouth” is thus not absurd.

It will not budge;
His car is stuck.
The ice-crusted snow it can only nudge.
Did he think he drove a truck?
Must he now homeward trudge?

For words overheard in passing he could
Seek meaning, though lacking context.
Alternate possibilities, weight of wood,
He might settle on the wrong text.
The comment made, was it for the good?

Copyright © 2014. H.K. Longmore

Three Short Strands


Every time I do, I’m glad I did.
Every time I don’t, with myself I’m livid.
Perhaps someday my gladness I’ll learn
To follow instead of letting my stomach churn.


One winter night
On her memory a blight:
Seized as I stood;
The result would not be good.

Pulled from a fall,
I turned to see gall:
Certain it was my choice,
To sorrow her feet gave voice.


Over the edge he leans,
The river’s eyes gleam.
He tries to let it run through,
To bid its warm touch welcome,
But fears what he’d become
If nothing grew.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Cathartic Ventures

The whistle of a teapot
As the painter adds another spot.
The spillway with water flows
As the writer pens some prose.

Steam exudes from the dryer vent
While the poet works out what he meant
And what he said from what he intended,
For fear the meaning was upended.

But tonight well after dark,
This guy, he was a madman in the park:
Singing at the top of his lungs,
A full concert was sung.

He sang some old favorites, some new
In full pursuit of cathartic stew.
Twenty songs later, he left for home
Solely because his smartphone battery groaned.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Veil of Curiosity

The query heard so oft
From the mouth of young
From your lips now ascends
Softly to my ears.

A child who holds “why” dear
Rarely she pretends
To hold it in her lungs,
Nor her mind aloft,

The answer that she seeks;
Her query comes sincere.
Repeatedly he asks,
His keen mind filled with

I think between your cheeks
An answer appears;
In the light your face basks
Of words with great pith
Hoped for aurally.

But no matter how bold
Nor how confident
I may be, I am bound;
To say what I wish
Is not my luxury.

My tongue I must hold,
Or reap the consequence
Foretold—I have found,
When words hoped for you fish,
I know I’m not free

By the way my skin crawls
As I mentally
Take that small step.  I stall;
To my face gently,
Quickly I raise the veil:

My answer returns softly,
My desire unsung.
Disappointment transcend
As heart changes gear

And through thin veil I peer;
My words I amend.
Hope upon these words hung,
As thin veil doffed:

If it’s meant to be,
Then someday it will be.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Power Struggle

Think not about Watts,
Not Joules over time,
Nor strength of rhyme
Cast from thought scheming plots.

Not one of delta-delta or wye-wye,
Nor yet of turbine against hydro-flow,Lightning
Nor Quixotic blades by air or lance
Made to do their circular dance.

This struggle is with powers on high;
And powers here below;
Powers of the mortal mind
And powers of human heart.

The struggle brings him to his knees;
Too proud to kneel, he cannot Heaven please.
A power granted once to another
Now his heart smothers—

Power granted was not announced,
Lest upon the opportunity the recipient pounce
And his heart—as the moment flounced,
And his mind seized up by the jounce—
Fail him.

Power over his heart was given,
Not the power to make it riven
Nor the power to with others be shriven,
But towards unity be thriven.

But the power unannounced remains
With the giver, unclaimed,
While under its weight he strains,
And to proclaim itself the power does not deign.

Awaiting resolution from inside or out,
He finds his words lose clout
And the unspoken is not kind.
Fear of losing dear ones makes him start—
He seeks someone to hear his pleas
Again, the struggle brings him to his knees.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Why At-One-Ment Doesn’t Involve Time Travel

Have you ever longed to go back in time and change just one choice so a life event would turn out differently, or a relationship could be preserved or never started?  I have certainly had wistful thoughts along those lines.  No, I lie.  I do still have wistful thoughts like that from time to time.  I went hiking a couple of weeks ago with some of my family.  My sister had spent three summers working at a camp in the area, and took the lead.  We headed toward that camp, then down a dirt road toward the trail head.  We passed a small stream flowing down the mountain and she remarked that the old trail went up the stream, but people kept littering in the (watershed) stream, so the trail was moved, and the old trail blocked off.  A little further down the road, and she indicated for us to turn off the road and head up the hill.  In the winter, this hill is part of a ski trail; in summer, it is covered with wildflowers.  My sister pointed them out, acting the part of trail guide.  Up the hill we continued, until we reached a spot where there was a spur of trail running to the stream.  My sister was wishing we could go up the old trail, so I told the others I was going to explore the branch, no one had to follow, and I would come back and let them know what I found.  My sister said to make sure it went up and not over, because over would lead into the camp.

The branch lead me across the stream.  A short distance further I found another spur that lead up the hill.  I took it a short distance to see where it led, then returned and informed the others of what I had found.  We headed that way.  The spur going up took me back across the stream not far from where I initially crossed.  I waited there to help my nieces and nephews find the best path across if needed.  While we were crossing, my sister had gone a bit further from the spur and found yet another path that led up.  She instructed that we needed to go up that way, so we all headed over. Continue reading

Soft Theft

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Confidently I will tell you
Of the crime I witnessed at noon.
The thing occurred sometime between
When she stole a glance at his jeans
As she stole away to get lunch
And when she her last bite did munch.

Confidentially, it was hers
But he stole it away with ease
He didn’t try, needed no keys
His touch was so soft—soft as furs.

Confidence—the thing she now lacks
Which he fain would return if asked
(I asked him if he had realized
Her attempting to cauterize
The wound, stealing backward glances,
But by her eyes he was entranced).

Consistent, compliant, softly
Now he seeks to her to restore
The confidence he never took
And I wish to tell her before
Her confidence by him was shook

This well-worn sagacious two bits:
If she’d have, in time, her druthers,
Never give it to another;
Only she has power o’er it.


Copyright © 2013 H.K. LongmoreHiking down snow-covered Rocky Sea Pass

Sometimes my tongue
Commits to things
My mind and lungs,
My heart the king

Know it commits
Sincerely true,
Yet it omits
Its fault, their rue:
No follow through.

It fain would do
What it has said;
Its mates have read
Consequence due.