December 28th, 2016

Shaman - Horse

Poem - Curtains Drawn

I enjoy the online poetry competitions found on Deep Underground Poetry. They push me to explore a variety of topics. This time around I embraced one that challenged “step back and compare, analysis, and introspect about your online identity”.


Curtains Drawn

I present with the flair of Oz
great and terrible on his throne
floating head above the stage
smoked explosions and flashing lights
when I’m the one with curtains drawn.

Striking pose on music’s muse
walking step with love of form
triple step to a passing turn
with the loveliest on my arm
if only I could really dance.

Despondent in the depths of pain
seeking release by trigger’s pull
when all has lost meaning’s charm
I mean it this time, I really do
oh look, it is a butterfly.

Radical rallying the good fight
against the hatred of bigotry
flags flown from pickup trucks
these will have to go
when the skeletons leave my closet.

Impassioned ally of equal love
biology and choice inseparable
when joy is all we seek to find
truth will win out in the end
so says the one with much to hide.

Poet with a thousand words
daily mantras in stanza form
creating kingdoms from my poems
revelations of good and bad
when all I want is to be heard.

The one with mind still twenty-five
demanding that the clock turn back
rewind the years to find my place
just within my grasping hands
across the gap a hundred miles.

All of these are my face
on intranets across the web
desiring you to see the span
imagining by this mortal man
still hiding behind the curtains drawn.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161228.
Shaman - Horse

Poem - Flowers in the Hair

Emily is a fictitious name chosen for very real person who graces my life. An image on their Tumblr page inspired me to write “Flowers in the Hair”.


Flowers in the Hair

Emily is the kind I like
freshly picked flowers in her hair
bangs set loose against the world
with demons laughing in her head
I hear their echoes on the walls
glee expressed when sadness calls
these imps molded by her world
in images of close authority.

Mirrors set that should express
her beauty full that takes my breath
instead they show the past shadows
of mother’s love inflicting pain
haunted would be the wrong term
when similar stalks my dusty halls
her past invoked is more fresh
while mine is thrust to past decades.

Her charm is in the similar
how we walk through the world
reflections of the ying to yang
as fingers touch across the span
dialogue confirms our match
recognition at long last
for a soul that bears the marks
scarlet letters few seem to wear.

Alone we would be disgraced
abomination to the human race
examples of the norm surpassed
by criminals of the social sort
yet in this place I find relief
that I’m not alone in my defeat
perhaps victory is near at hand
as I move to others of our band.

The demons that live within and out
the flowers that adorn our hair
I’ll walk in step with Emily
solidarity as our demons prance
they loose their strength in the light
shown by one that knows their bite
these imps we own will repent
they’ll now laugh with merriment.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161228.