Poetry – Page 3 – Wordsmith: At The Forge

The Devil’s Debt

by brian francis

When I was growing up among the corn and dairy cows
Every meal was begun with grace and praising of our God
The food was always special because it was made with love
I remember Grand-Mom sayin’ it was a blessing from above.

She claimed that momma never could cook when she was young
She was so bad said Grand-Mom they feared–could she find love?
How would she catch a man if smoke drove them all away?
But Daddy, he inspired her to with only good words to say

And Daddy worked from dark to dark we never saw the man
Unless we broke one of the rules and we’d hear Momma pray
She’d go into the kitchen where she’d pick up a broken belt
Hanging it upon a hook, that would make our young hearts melt

It was the hook by the back door where Daddy changed his clothes
We couldn’t help but look at it, as we imagine how it felt
Every time we glanced at it, sorrow would haunt our souls
As Daddy said if you want to drive then you have to pay the tolls

We would be in our beds when daddy finally came home
Sleep would usually catch us in defiance of our goals
But we would wake when Daddy gently sat down where we slept
he would talk about right and wrong and paying the devil’s debt

It always hurt so much more when it hung upon the hook
Anticipation tortured us the way it slowly crept
I’ve been in raging battles, and I’ve feared the line would snap
But I’ve never feared anything like that hook and broken strap

Gaea

by brian francis

I found a world spread out naked before me.
I searched for meaning in every glen and dale.
And there I grew, a child of rural splendor,
Amid the rows and fences, both stone and rail.

In the woods I discovered nature’s secrets,
and I explored other secrets there too.
Hidden in the brambles of distant ridges,
the lessons so very many; the days so few.

When time had passed, enough for growing.
When the fence posts, were, no longer so high
I turned away, from all that splendid landscape,
and I looked for answers, hidden in the sky.

Searching took me far from my beginning.
Half a world away I found my place.
The green and rolling hills a distant memory,
seen through the mist of a chemical haze.

In the heat of the desert I discovered glory,
a rapture born of cactus buds,
an electric buzz in fungal fury.
Those college days, drowned in suds.

Along the way god became a theory;
argued hard and long within.
Debating points of syntactic twisting
I found in truth – the greatest sin.

In mountains high above the desert;
islands, cool forests, in the desert heat.
I first heard nature’s gentle calling.
A melodious voice both strong and sweet.

Beneath an oak of ancient lineage,
the songs of times past were found.
A flute and fiddle sang well together.
Tears soon flowed, a precious sound.

Mother earth, and mistress heavens
Appease my heart and sing to me.
A cast light of lunar dimness,
an offering beneath the tree.

Wildfire

By brian francis

Where chimneys rise above the ash
to stand in ordered rows,
where fire’s dance engulfed the homes
destroying all one owns.
Where tears shed, streak and flow,
ashen mascara on the face.
Images enchant, playing in the mind
of another time in this place.

Trees who once bore crowns of leaves
a home to squirrels and birds;
only tortured twisted skeletons remain,
crying wind, the only thing heard.
in ashen heaps, sorted for some pearls
Everything stained by fires touch,
loving hands grasp at memories inspired
by the loss of so, so very much.

The rising odor that pervades it all
a smell like that of Hades’ gates.
The sullen mood, shoulders slumped,
the lost souls clinging to their mates.
The smolder burns and chokes the throat,
words can not seem to be found.
A lifetime lost to the raging flames
drift in ashes dancing on the ground.

Copyright ©2021 brian francis

Reflections

by brian francis

Reflections upon Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
(July 1 – 3, 1863)

The grass now dances with a gentle breeze
Across this hallowed ground.
Where once the clash of sabers clanged
And the blood of heroes poured down.

Where farms and people were once engulfed
In the fury of a brother’s war.
When death and dying, were the rule of the day
And victory the only cure.

And from the ranks on either side
The battle cries were heard,
Echoing down across the fields
Where the courage of boys was stirred

The charges launched across those fields
Burnt powder filled the skies,
And through the smoke and stench there rose
So many death-filled cries.

The grass now dances with the gentle breeze
Across this hallowed land.
Where once the best and worst was seen
That can come from the soul of man.

That strength within

I have found the peace of our Father’s love
It resides within our reflection of
His love so true it is a gift within
That allows us to be a reflection of Him

I have hoed so many crooked rows
Until I learned what true love was
And now with his guidance within
I can walk assured of avoiding sin

Bent and broken though he was
My father taught that there was love
So pure and true a sacredness
He smiled wide in his faithfulness

He had found the peace of our Father’s love
It resides within our reflection of
His love so true it is a gift within
That allows us to be a reflection of Him

My heart was lost in the tortured sea
When the sins of man washed over me
I fought and strained to gain a hold
The waves assailed me strong and bold

when my heart in fear called out for Him
and I felt that warming so deep within
The strength to walk a tortured sea
Became his gift that set me free

I have found the peace of our Father’s love
It resides within our reflection of
His love so true it is a gift within
That allows us to be a reflection of Him

By brian francis

Deep in the Mountain

By brian francis

The cold and the dark refuse the flicker
of gems who lie so deep in the ground.
Bones lay scattered among the trophy
the lost, the magic reach, out to be found.

With less of a slide and more of a slither,
Of silver and gold, the dreams the drive
The piles discovered beneath the great mountain
In heaps and mounds the treasure resides

A whiff of sulfur drifts in the darkness
A glow almost seen through the cover of gold
Rumbles subsonic reach in and touch you
stories of dragons not believed when told

The burden too much to carry escaping
Dribbles and drops dancing away
Better to flee and lose all the bounty
But greed alas has a loathsome way

The bones will be scattered among the piles
As Draco reclines and cleans off the flesh
Casting them about for the next warning
And settling again to gather his rest

Happy Birthday

**With tomorrow being my birthday I give you:
by brian francis

Youth has passed
its burden gone;
the climb to age
is over.
What once was endless
now moves on,
the feeling left
is somber.
The lessons of
those long passed years
stole the innocence
of youth;
and left me here
so austere
watching shadows lengthen.
My time has come
to saunter down
the hill I sought
to conquer;
and to look with fear
upon the year,
I’ll walk this land
no longer.

The Veteran

by brian francis

You’ve shown a nation just how to stand tall
In wearing the uniform, in hearing the call
You’ve shouldered the burden standing the line
Setting aside, the plans for life, of your design

We the people, as a nation, are grateful for you
In the way, you represent us, the things that you do
We know that you hold us deep in your heart
As you struggle there for us while doing your part

The scars that you bear in your body mind and soul
As you act on our behalf in obtaining our goal
The tears that you cry remembering what was done
That feeling alone, sudden attacks at the sound of a gun

The burdens you carry those that flash into the mind
Or just that sinking feeling that is there all the time
The terror that haunts you even after coming home
The feeling here among us of your still being alone

That suffering that endures for you deep, deep inside
Should be more our burden and so much more your pride
Discounts will be offered, and of course; an annual parade
In remembrance and in honor of the sacrifice you’ve made

Stumbling Through

by brian francis

Seeking out the source of inspiration
I found myself in a deep dry well.
Nothing there could offer stimulation.
So alone I built myself a living hell.

Hidden in dusty volumes: past consideration.
Doodles lining margins, once passing time.
Scanning ancient notes with contemplation
Finding only aggregate no thoughts to bind.

In frustration I lashed out against creation
Yet again my drunken muse does not respond.
So alone I sit in my silent meditation,
Imagining the banks of Walden Pond.

Then gently, without notice, sleep overtakes me.
The day then fades away and soon is gone.
Dreams, torment, and chase; will not let me be.
A restless soul who fights to carry on.

When morning comes and wakes my sleeping sorrow
Another day to seek and find that, what I need.
A turn of phrase or a thought which I might borrow.
Anything that will help me germinate the seed.

Blossoms

by brian francis

Bluebirds singing songs of love
Dance upon the windowsill

Flowers bloom in ordered rows
While sunshine falls to color them

Days stretch out their limber limbs
Embracing more hours than before

Darkness shrinks losing hold
Springtime’s touch has come again

And summer calls her rally cry
To gather strength for wilting work

As all of nature’s enduring might
Rises to the challenge of life

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