an uncomfortable waiting period…

composite image cwmartin

when pain
is deep
into the bones
there is no
other thought
than death
the joy of
bright-eyed children
shared sympathies
are as empty
as the promises
made over
cheap wine
menthol cigarettes
in a conference bar
far from home
and family
where vacant blue eyes
attempt to refocus
on the conversation
and the reason
for it in the first place
just as you try now
to refocus on life
but the pain
the pain
stops each refrain
of the song
of life

the vanishing…


 by River Urke and charles wm. martin

in the sands
he waits
a drop of time
but finds only
the dry bones
of yesterday
no future
no present
minute by
finished minute
of past moments
the bones
begin to cry
dry tears
empty of life
and true feelings
another masquerade
for god to see
or was it god
that took tomorrow
noticing people
don’t seem to care
about the future

River Urke and I have entered into a duel poetry challenge and this is the resulting poem.  Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete

a gentle reminder…

your promissory note
came due
quite some time ago
but you can
keep the damn mule
i’m unemployed
and can’t afford
to feed it
the land
would be nice
that way
i’ll have a place
to bury
these tired
old bones
i die
i can’t
a funeral plot

dissociative entity …

Image Provide by Vlad

i am here
just below those
fragmented pieces of colored glass
an illusion
just a
can you see my bones
a spirit without form
but with substance
not to be touched
or prayed to
an angel
a demon
as you must
but i am here
and unlike your
windows of belief
i see what you do
i follow you through the day
and see how words in the glow of god
fade in the light of day
for years
those petrified saints of glass
have looked down upon you
watching you inside on your knees
proclaiming your faith
rendering your thirty pieces of silver
but i
i move in the shadows outside
beneath the lies you tell
i’m the reflected colored light
in a night’s bed of passion
winking at you
before you crawl home
to a cold dinner
of yesterday’s hope
i am the cold touch
as you fall asleep
and the sharp pain
that you feel
as you

This is the fifth part of a series of poetry challenges between Jade ( and me. The whole idea behind it is to send a picture ( in this case by Vlad) to the other as inspiration (or visual muse, if you want to), and the other has to write a poem inspired by the image. Visit her site to see how she has responded to m third challenge photograph on her site.


in my distress i cried unto…..

can you hear
the sounds of war
the dried
broken bones
rattling in the night
just inside your room
a loose window pane
is what you think
but there is no breeze
just a pungent smell
like burning flesh
there in the darkness
you hear it again
louder this time
and the dragging of feet
across the barren field of hope
carrying the weight of a man
in some forbidden land
some place darker than your room
again the sound
pierces the silence of your thoughts
is it just your beating heart
or can you hear
the cries of a thousand souls

the king is dead…

here lies
the king
fallen hero
his bones
carved into spears
and thrown
into his sons’ eyes
and his cross
melted down
and used
to ordain his followers
while young warriors
dress in his cloths
repeat his chants
but sleep
with his enemies
while those
who slept with the king
that the king