Tag Archives: poetry

Ancient Discovery

Author’s note: this one has been sitting around in my drafts collecting dust. While I work on my next post, I thought I’d blow that dust into the wind.

Discovered by man anciently
Holds the anthropologist;
Robert Frost believes
The world will end with this.

Bono sings of one unquenchable,
While Billy Joel wails, “we didn’t start it,”
And Natalie acknowledges
This house is by it consumed.

Many have been notable,
Including Chicago and Rome,
Blame laid on the cow and the Christians.

Always accompanied by heat and light,
A tool to cook and sanitize,
A weapon to destroy.
Useful for filling urns,
Required for a pyre.

Often made a metaphor
For love and hate alike

Peter Garrett sings of beds acquainted with it,
As well as something
Twenty times as hot
As the hottest stuff in Gehanna.
But there may be some thing hotter still.

Copyright © 2023 H.K. Longmore

Don’t Die

"Don't die!" she said.
The words echo through his noggin.
"I'm trying not to," he casts his reply
Into the night sky, into the past.
Years have passed since that sentiment
Was testament to her heart.
What ails him now may be more
Than his level ten nature mage's ken.
He's giving it time,
But each day the problem festers,
If color and intensity and size
Are fine attestors, the problem is winning.
Thoughts spin back to the start:
Conceptual change and a heart to mend,
The power of forgetting found.
He rethinks the time approach.
Perhaps necrotic tissue
The issue has become,
A dermatologist
May get to the bottom of this.
Copyright © 2023 H.K. Longmore

Statistically Significant

Author’s note; I wrote this a while back, but decided enough time has passed, that it was time to dust it off and put it out in the visible universe.

Apart so long,
His heart began
A mournful song,
For his tears to gan.

Desire to see her
Once again, intensifies;
Until similar features
Trick his eyes:

Others, he knows,
Are not her,
Yet seem for a moment
They could be.

These hold his gaze
Until at last
He is satisfied
They are too dissimilar.

But it seems
The greater his longing,
The less similar
Another must look;

At what degree of dissimilarity
Will his eyes cease their tricks?
What is the threshold to keep them
Statistically significant?

©2023 H.K. Longmore

Out to Lunch

Allow me to set the stage:
The stage was set,
From strings to winds,
Percussion at their back.

Trombone scans the audience
Looking for familiar face;
Between strings and lights,
Sees none.

No matter,
Though life-changing it could be:
Now is time to focus,
Now is time to play.

Trombone shifts to euphonium;
Focus, his shadow.
Back to trombone,
Shadow maintained.

Applause over,
Ovations ended,
Instruments
Clear the stage.

Brain out to lunch, shadow stays;
Trombone turns to talk to tuba,
Then bid farewell until next time
The orchestras combine.

Leaving the stage,
To retrieve his shell,
Trombone's brain
Returns from lunch.

"By the way,"
Trombone brain says,
Replaying the recording made
While out to lunch,

"Someone called out,
'Nice job on the trombone!'
While you were talking to the tuba."
It may have been that familiar face.

Already gone from the stage,
And minutes passed,
Trombone
Picks up the pace.

Back on stage,
Putting instruments in case,
Trombone searches remaining audience,
Finds no familiar face.

Trombone leaves
To put all gear
In his car,
Then enters again

In search of that voice,
That face.

Crowd thinned,
It was clear,
The Complimenter
Had left.

Trombone replayed the compliment,
To identify the voice;
Memory obscured by delay
Before the replay.

Time steals clarity,
Memory morphs,
'Til Trombone remembers it
As if compliment was heard when spoken,

Leaving Trombone with the guilt
Of ignoring the Complimenter,
And the effect,
But not the intention.

© 2023 H.K. Longmore

Closed-Captioning

Movie fantastic:
Watching real life unfolding,
Senses enlivened.
An unwanted change;
Video signal goes blank,
Audio remains.
Still captivating, 
Listening to audio:
Movie fantastic.
Video returns:
Brief interludes side by side;
Pulse quickens and skips.
Signal cut again,
Audio also is lost;
Movie fantastic.
Now closed-captioning
Only signal that remains.
Relationship strained?
With no video,
No audio, still I'm sure:
Movie fantastic.

© 2022 H.K. Longmore

Beans – an Elegy

Oh to have your plaintive voice
Interrupting our virtual meetings again.
Those expressive meows, your speech with humans,
To distract and entertain once more.

But your cuddly, soft paws
will pounce on the keyboard no more.
Your sentinel spot, standing watch o’er your human,
lies vacant.

Thou eater of cat grass,
which took a week to grow
Thou master of the bowls,
so earning the pride of human souls,

Into the night you’ve gone,
Walked on through that door—
Fare thee well, until we meet once more.

© 2021 H.K. Longmore

Unnecessary Risk: The Original

Author’s Note: when first I wrote Unnecessary Risk, I could have sworn I had already written a poem by that name. I didn’t find it, so went ahead with it. But I stumbled upon the first one recently, so here it is, unedited, almost exactly seven years later after I first wrote it.

The thrill of unnecessary risk
Flows through my mind quite brisk
I can hear you now saying tsk-tsk.
Into my life I fold it with a wisk.

From the height of the stairs I leap.
But the landing angle’s too deep,
So I catch the concrete, sow then reap.
My knees are grated, but my speech needs no bleep.

The scar from the incident, seven years later.

I roll, my “ouch” uttered, pick up my hat.
A quick check of my knees; blood does not yet mat.
I look around and find no one around —drat!
I’ll be the last on the bus, so I fly like a bat.

© 2021 H.K. Longmore

Fetal

Curled up in a ball
Wrapped up in a hammock
Swaying in the salty breeze
Saline stained cheeks turn salty red
Red ball dips below the water line

Or, buried in the sand
Naught but head
Protrudes from mock grave
Sand a bearable weight of being
Brings calm to anxious limbs
Deepens once shallow breaths

Huddled ’round a 55 gallon drum
Fire burning low
Fingerless gloves the compulsory style
Company sells tragedy cheap
But Rails sing a compelling song
To be part of the wave

Buried in thoughts of death
Unbidden
He seeks new life

©2021 H.K. Longmore

Donuts in an Empty Parking Lot

“You seem hesitant.”
The words echo in temporal space.
From squamous to sphenoid,
Thoughts race.

“Go away,” spoken to a notification.
Stirs up memories vague.
Emotional power of the plague,
Positives lean toward negation.

A fact shared
Or omitted—
Scale tared,
Over-analysis committed.

Grief Tantalean
Becomes grief obsess-ean;
Grief Promethean.

Relief
Requires efforts Herculean.
Answers Protean.

Seize seal shepherd
From behind; hold tight
While shapes shift for fright.
At last a voice heard:

“Son of Atreus,
What do you want from me?”
From mental prison to be freed,
To know what will be.

“Son of Atreus,
Why ask me thus?
Better for you not to know,
Not to learn what my mind holds.”

No future glimpse,
No respite from second guesses.
Seek out Tantalus,
Offspring of Zeus and nymph.

Parched tongue and lips
Inquired why, hands on hips.
Swift reply
With heavy sigh:

To drink, and not thirst;
To eat, and be sated.
“Me first,”
Tantalus waited.

Hands a scoop,
Water-soup
Brought to lips;
Fruit of bough
Into mouth slipped.

“You want to do donuts in an empty parking lot,
You want to put an end to over-thought;
To heal from childhood fears,
And teenage years,

“To not have your confidence
Stolen by the thief
Of yester-years’ defeats,
Nor drained by consequence

“Of verbal wounds, real;
Inflicting damage still;
Wounds that change perceive,
When only perception changed, self-deceived.

“You’ll have to wait until it snows.”
But there is another way I know.

© 2021 H.K. Longmore

Tantalus Lookout is to the left of this picture; as in, Diamond Head is visible from Tantalus Lookout.

Doldrums

I need heat and Helios;
I have cold and cloud.
I need sand and surf;
I have snow or tundra for turf.

It’s winter, winter at high altitude.

Tiny bits of RNA
In moist droplets abound.
For nose and throat they’re bound;
They’ve come for our DNA.

It’s cold and flu season in this hemisphere.

© 2020 H.K. Longmore