WINTER SOLSTICE

The dark night of our souls is Solstice,

for winter's courtship with autumn divorces,

its manifold of amber and gold;

and all is concealed beneath a cloak of snow.

Fire has expelled it's last breath,

giving way to winter and it's death.

And, as I gaze across the silvery field,

no living things or life are revealed;

Yet the umber milk-blossoms are still exposed,

and splay their fairy wings as their pods unfold,

and burst from the white, innocence of snow.

In the silence of this day, I pause;

For, the musk of the rose doth not waft,

and quiet, are the bees and the wasp.

Other beings with gossamer wings,

have turned into unnatural things;

as the snow blankets the grass o'er field,

and I hear the distant church bells peal.

From light to dark, and dark to light;

The great god of Yule ignites a spark,

and the Goddess matriarch embarks

from perpetual day and endless night.

The sun and the moon collide in it's arc,

And from the sun, they take flight.



©Denise Goodwin, All Rights Reserved

***This entry is repeated from my poetry blog: https://moonspyre.blogspot.com/

Image credit - elephant journal

OF TRUMP

It is difficult to imagine that last year at this time, many of us were busy posting pictures of pumpkins and corn mazes on Facebook, and Tweeting comfortable news on Twitter.  I don't think any of us could have believed that our country would be in such a maelstrom of division, as it is today.  This election year has brought out the worst of all of us, and our emotions are deeply visceral.  Never before have I been more concerned about an election outcome, than this year.  I have found myself addicted to the news, and I anxiously wait for the next bomb to be dropped. 

I am an angry that the fundamental issues that we should normally expect to discuss and debate during an election year, have been squashed by what has been nothing less than a side show in a circus.  I want to hear how the candidates will help the homeless, feed our families, and heat our homes.  I want to hear about how they will answer to nations that threaten our freedoms.  I want to hear about their policies and their responses to American concerns; yet, here we are, feeling as if we must don chain-mail to deflect the insults and rhetoric of our opponent's views. 

I am a Democrat, always have been, and no one can take away my right to express myself, as I am an American and I'm sure many will not agree with my position, but that is between you and God.  I am female and I vote.  Today I am angry.... And, when I get angry, I write. 


OF TRUMP

Eminem, will you rap this?
The whole country is knee-deep in shit.
And, I want to live in a country where the definition of separation, 
means distance, and nothing else;
Because we love each other, despite of our hardships or wealth.
Where all men are created equal, includes women, too;
And that we have the right to do with our bodies what we choose.
Prosperity through hard work, is still the American Dream,
And, I believe that our country's ideology can be redeemed.
We should not tolerate power as a means to molest,
nor should women normalize or expect an unwanted caress.
We've come to far, to be reduced and ridiculed;
Our minds should not be dismissed, nor our bodies misused.
Shame on you, who turn a blind eye to repeated incidents,
For you are degrading the victims and mocking the innocent.
Many are defending the actions of one, as a common distraction;
But, if you're jumping on the wagon of this adverse reaction,
You're flaming our flag and disparaging our one nation.
Wake up!  These people are paid, that you see on the news,
To support him and his distorted point of views;
For anyone with one shred of decency,
Would never tolerate his racism, hatred and obscenities. 
Some of you must have turned the channel,
during that last, now famous, debate; 
Because the world was bombarded with irrelevant babble,
and, most of his answers were to topics that didn't relate.
Our world is changing, and not what it used to be, 
We live in real time, and are barraged with rapid technology;
Our country is riddled with problems, this much is true,
But don't we all stand under that flag of red, white and blue?
Because, above all, Democracy should be stressed:
The American Dream remains the same:
Through hard work, we can all reap the same benefits, 
But only if we work together, without bigotry or prejudice.
Civil Unions should not be regarded as sin, 
Because love is love, where ever one finds it!
And, one should never be judged by the color of their skin;
Old Jim Crow should be buried, gone and dead;
But stands to be resurrected, if he is elected -
and this we should dread!
We need to continue to develop laws that are reflect our times,
And our lives are endangered, if you think otherwise.
For our own safety, background checks for those who want guns,
Is plain common sense, and these we should conduct.
Your rights will still be preserved under the Second Amendment,
You can still hunt and have fun with your guns,
But let's protect each other, and our little ones.
I believe that one must educate themselves on political facts,
Before you make statements from contorted rhetoric.
A Presidential candidate should be experienced,
and should possess a grain of common sense.
Unlike him, she is calm, cool and collected;
She's traveled the world, and is well connected.
Imagine this churl having high tea with the Queen!
Truly, you're not that naive, 
to think he's capable of negotiating world peace?
America, now is the time to dig down deep,
Can you really trust a man with nukes, that you can bait with a tweet?
I am a female who votes, and I'm a U.S. veteran,
And, I take offense when our freedom is threatened.
Yet, many continue to praise him for his business brilliance;
And, I don't care if he's worth one cent or millions,
For, if all Americans are held to the same standard, 
That our intention is to pay our fair share of tax, 
Shouldn't he be held to the same expectation?
Are you excusing this behavior,
because he's famous for giving the axe?
(This guy can't even find Syria on a map).
Yet, weeks have passed, and he still has not provided this information.
A world leader should not represent power through intimidation
Nor, should our immigrants be threatened with relocation.
How many decades have we fought to tear down walls?
Yet, he wants to build another, twice as tall!
Her emails in question, are simply strategies of an election,
And for the record, 
there is nothing wrong with striving toward perfection.  
Maybe you could take a lesson!
The election draws near, so here's your last chance,
To stand with the woman with stamina and perseverance.
Who is ready to defend the down-trodden and the disabled,
For she has proven she's steady at the helm and more than able.
She has proven she'll fight for the voiceless, and the victims;
She will provide you with facts, and doesn't rely on fiction. 
Examine your conscience, and cast an anchor into the blue;
Our nation is bleeding, divided, and there is too much hate;
And it is because of this, I must advocate:
Never, ever believe that he can "make our country great".

 © Denise Goodwin, 10/16/16

Dreams and The Sea

I have written *poetry for many years, and will concede that it frequently has a dark flavor.  I suppose it is the means in which I process emotions, and is a safe way for me to rant about topics of which I cannot otherwise write.  Today, I have selected 4 original poems to share with you that are related to water and/or dreams.   I post with a bit of trepidation, as I fear criticism.  On the other hand, I feel that one cannot write without a feeling of dread, for our egos are easily bruised and it is healthy to keep ourselves in check!  

"I Remember Thee" are the words on my grandmother's gravestone.  Though I had her in mind while writing this poem, I held onto the notion of a man sailing off to sea, never to be seen again.  This poem represents what could have been left behind.

Similarly, "Down to Sea" is my memory of living on the harbor in Gloucester, Massachusetts.  As I looked out of my apartment window, across the harbor was the Fisherman's Statue, and down that same Boulevard was The Fisherman's Wives Statue.  This poem is about an elderly woman that I would sometimes speak with, and I embellished my thoughts to create this poem.

"Water Dreams" is intentionally meant to be surreal and is what I consider to be free verse.

Finally, the poem "Oblivion's Throes" is a 4-part tale that I attempted to describe sublime to decline, and it describes the visions or journey, of a person who is dying, and then the eventual realization that it is the end.

I REMEMBER THEE

She wakes to the sound of thunder;

The clamoring roar hath disturbed her slumber;

Tossing,

Turning,

She listens,

as it changes by degrees.

The rain splashes over eaves,

and onto leaves of grand oak trees.

It drops down crawling tendrils of verdant vine,

Bruising morning glories, and drowns the heads of columbine.

It falls through the sinewy trellis of cross stitched lattice;

Branches scrape the window panes with skeletal scratches.

It plunges and splashes, pooling onto the earth below.

With the wailing wind, she hears a distant murder of crows.

And, as the rain begins to wane, and is slowly dying;

The cunning moon resorts to spying,

as it seeks its source.

The percussion is an echo of the ocean, that is undying,

Repeating a fading concussion, beating onto shore.

And, as it winks light through its gossamer veil,

She scarcely dresses, and softly exhales.

Barefoot, she steps out of doors,

onto the weathered wood of a decrepit porch.

She gathers the fabrics of her night skirts,

to walk a path of decaying planks and dirt;

Exposing a thin limb of porcelain flesh,

As the deluged earth caresses every step.

The night has awakened the lilies, and the musky scent of yarrow.

She travels to the crowning mound, that emerges like an ancient barrow.

She bends at the rosebush that once soothed a pulsing heart;

Arising like a royal sentinel, it now stands guard.

She reaches for a sodden flower,

One, the rain had drowned, and the earth devoured;

Waking the velvet petals, from their dreamy rest.

A single crimson pearl manifests from a fingertip,

as a pointed thorn pierces skin.

She looks to sea and sky, and onto the foamy shore;

Her heart now, is barely beating;

Like the tide, receding.

Faint and faltering, like a canyon echo.

As she recalls the gentle words so long ago.

He left her with a kiss and flashed a smile.

"With a fortune I'll return...I'll only be gone for a while."

Beside the roses, is a grey stone, etched with a sailing mast,

and inscribed with words of three,

Beneath the stars and the thunderclouds, and the incessant sea:

It silhouettes the barren womb, 

the eternal chamber of an empty tomb,

"I Remember Thee".

© Denise Goodwin, All rights reserved.

DOWN TO SEA

One morning, I watched her from my window, 
Outside, in the fog and drizzling rain,
She is alone, and wandering, 
down the lane again.

Near at hand, 
the grayish sea batters land.

She is wearing that same thin lavender frock,
with a pattern of flowers, sprinkled through-out.
As I watched her bull-legged, elderly pace, 
I recognized the distinctly crooked face, 
I wonder, what returns her to this place?

From the large pockets sewn at each side 
of that thread-bare day dress, 
Crooked fingers extract a cotton handkerchief, 
that she presses to her face.

As she looks out to the cheerless sea, 
cruel and angry, on this day;
What is it, that she holds in her memory?

Though many dawns have come and gone,
and the inevitable conclusion has been drawn;
The imagery, is still in our minds.
As she is one of many wives, 
who said goodbye,
and then, waited patiently.

Far out to sea, they sailed; 
Perhaps a sou'east wind prevailed.

Trawling familiar grounds, 
Into waves, crashed the stern and bow;
When lo, the ship was troubled, 
Something fore or aft had broke and buckled.

Imagine the pushing and shoving,
the fumbling and grumbling;
Among the white caps, and warning bells claps;
The creaking, crushing, bubbling, and flooding,  
From the ship, that was buckling.

Suffering such terror and dread,
Grown men crying, 
as if dreaming;
The gulls were flying, 
calling, screaming, 
over head.

© Denise Goodwin, All rights reserved

WATER DREAMS (Free Verse)

The faucet is leaking.
Collecting rust 'round porcelain
like a bloody stain.

The slow, obnoxious drip,
drip,
drip,
down the rusted drain.
I hear it's drip in concert
with the grey and falling rain.

I listen to the hollow echo,
Hear the persistent allegro,
Whispering my name.
Voices call to me, from beneath;
I opine, the weary finds no relief.

At the river's edge, 
my love awaits;
Hand outstretched, 
as I reach, it fades.

I contemplate that drowning offers sleep.
O, to submit to such relaxation,
and the thought is sweet.

Subsequently, I am standing at the shore,
Where the salt and sand swirl round my feet.
Dreams of water, water dreams,
The moon is aglow over a turbulent sea.

At dawn, I awake with a revelation.
Disturbing and deep, was my sedation.
Curtains swell and fall with the breeze,
The drone of honeybees,
lull me back to sleep.

© Denise Goodwin, All rights reserved.

OBLIVION'S THROES

I. 

Outside, the sky was alight, lazuline and gold,
Which begins to describe a summer's day, of old;
When I had attended unexpected company,
Under a slumbering canopy of trees,
Where we hoped to capture even the faintest breeze.
It was all a vain attempt to escape such humidity.
As the trees gave scant reprieve, on that sultry day;
Their leaden leaves drooped in liquid, languid repose;
Heavy and listless, against the changed sky,
Now of indigo, amethyst and rose.
Heady blossoms released intoxicating essence,
and sweetly perfumed the air and our presence.
How distinctly I recall the scents, from that day of summer;
I mused they knew not time, the month or hour.
And yet, their fragrance haunted and hovered,
much like a concerned and doting young mother.
In that moment, on that afternoon, beneath the trees,
It seemed to me, the world was in deep contemplation.
(This was my passing observation)

II.

The soggy trees and the incessant heat,
are still fresh and alive, in my memory.
When, alas! a sudden trill disturbed my lethargy.
I bowed forward, toward a curious face, known not unto me.
She sat, like royalty, in an ornate chair of bleached vintage rattan.
Donning a gossamer gown of beaded lace and white chiffon.
She whisked air over her face, with a delicate, ivory fan.
I observed scant droplets trickle down her sculptured throat;
And, over the thin brow, where golden tendrils met skin,
I moved closer, so that I may hear the words spoken,
as her voice was paper thin;
I leaned in, with a sense urgency;
As if it were a necessity, for I must see,
this vapid apparition.
As I beheld, the eyes of whom the sun hath set,
over a rippling river, 'twas then I realized,
I heard not words, only a mournful whimper.
Yet, the eyes were vacant, and gave no reaction.
When suddenly, my own gaze was distracted,
I watched her pull fine filament, and wove a tapestry,
with no design, or plan or map.
Her pale and nimble fingers pulled white threads;
from needlepoint she held upon her lap.
And, all the while, a companion stood behind her,
like a royal Chamberlain, or a brooding chauffeur.
He appeared to await her orders,
or, to intercept or accept her callers;
Or more cynically, me thinks,
He was a swine, she had brought to slaughter.
In his hand, belled melting ice against a crystal globe,
which contained a pearlescent ooze; what, I did not know.
He, too, suffocated from the humidity and the heat;
As I noticed, he had loosed his tie,
and wore nothing on his feet.
I took a chair, opposite, consort and the fairy maiden,
and watched her fingers work, in utter fascination.
Not a word was spoken, as I slowly nodded, entranced;
I had not heard the vesper bells,
nor had I known, that sunset had advanced.

III.

I awoke quite rested,
In the chair that I had nested;
Yet, I did not recognize this location,
As it lacked the former illumination,
And the summer's day had grown cold.
Shipwrecked, from a storm and tossed to sea,
These were the frenzied words that came to me;
As I struggled in the shadows of oblivion's throes.
I had not a candle, nor a lantern to carry me hence,
my heart was heavy in a despairing lament.
Hoary frost has settled across the patio,
and all was veiled and wrought with snow.
Alone in this cold hollow,
I called out to the unknown,
Bellowing frantically to either friend or foe.
Returned to me, was merely an echo;
An echo from above, or below;
I do not know.

IV.

Here, in my delirium, I awaited exultation;
I anticipated that the clouds would burst, in joyful elation.
But, the sky did not open, ablaze in hopeful glory,
Nor had I been given a chance, to repeat this story.
Lo, no voices were heard; and, all remained undisturbed.
I questioned and considered the uncertainty,
And, discovered that my body was no longer fatigued;
Hot tears fell, as I could not control nor pacify reality.
I had been aflame in fever, accompanied by the divine;
She had stitched a shroud, into which I had climbed.
And, it was her familiar, who had carried me;
Where bitter wind, my only friend, is my eternity.
No crashing sea, nor blooming flowers keep me company;
Forever eclipsed in a ivory swaddle, sewn just for me. 
Paradise, for me, it seems, is this cold and lonely hollow, 
Where each day repeats, and in that I must sleep. 

© Denise Goodwin, All Rights Reserved.

*You may read all of my poetry at: MOONSPYRE

QUEEN NEFARIOUS

The following poem is an epic tale that I have written in rhyme. 

Obviously, it represents good vs. evil (Light and Dark).

I hope you enjoy it!

~Denise

Long ago, a modest kingdom had risen,

When the King took a damsel from a dismal prison.

She became the Queen, as a woman of exceptional beauty;

She secretly sought the throne; and to rule it, absolutely.

She warned the lovesick Lord of a looming threat,

and revealed to him the mysteries of the undead.

Together they traveled to many lands,

To conquer evil; and, Darkness, to disband.

They commanded elite knights, upon which they relied,

To crush and kill the inhabitants of all who defy.

The Queen gave to each, (scores of men), a golden ring,

bearing the Dragon emblem of the King.

And, a mighty kingdom was built upon the ground of the defeated;

They had vanquished the Dark, and it slowly receded.

Ships docked on land with many seeking the Light,

Bells rang daily, to signal the Sentries, that more had arrived.

And peace fell upon the land, like a summer's trickling stream.

A peace so deep, it was like the memories of a dream.

Lo, darkness returned, because the Kingdom was cursed;

Buried secrets, of myth and magic, were unearthed.

For in the depths of the castle lived a secluded mage,

Who knew the Queen was not really whom she portrayed.

She was the undead, who sought souls to feed her hunger,

She must feast on the souls of the young and the tender.

To sustain her perpetual resurrection, I must mention;

That betwixt the silken folds of her sweeping gown,

She detained the unwilling souls of the dead;

And, no one could hear their wailing laments,

For as long as she wore the imperial crown.

And, so the mage surreptitiously warned the king,

Of the impending doom, she soon would bring.

Suspicion and trepidation slowly increased,

And, across the land, returned terrible beasts.

Many who visited the castle, soon disappeared,

And the people of the region, quietly feared;

The King considered how to preserve the land's fate,

He knew he must smother the shadow and tend the flame.

But, the misty veil grew, casting Darkness from dawn to twilight,

As the Queen summoned greater power from the Eternal Night.

The King, knew he must defy and defeat the cursed Queen,

He summoned the Mage and together, they schemed.

Rushing the stairs, she refused to open the throne door;

Challenging his authority, justifying her insatiable lust for more.

The Mage advised the King they must summon a great fire,

For only Light can extinguish her great desire.

And from his cloak, he produced a seemingly ordinary ember,

But the dull Light radiated an eerie glow, as if it remembered.

A great wind, from his staff,  the mage suddenly produced,

Igniting the ember, and a white Light was unloosed.

A weak Light slowly fell through the castle door cracks,

Then, lightning erupted and thunder clapped,

The Queen could be heard tumbling, expelling a gasp.

The forged hinges and wood were torn from the threshold,

With tortured screams, and burning with merciless holes;

The Queen collapsed and released the souls that were chained,

Charred soot, and Her crown was all that remained.

And Light grew across the Kingdom, and fires again burned,

The tiny ember still flickered, and, humanity returned.

Now the great King lives in peace, and quite alone,

High in the turret on his majestic throne;

He contemplates both the Darkness and Light.

Pondering their secrets, though, still unknown,

The King keeps vigil both day and night,

For neither truly have a beginning, nor an end.

He tends the dying ember, as each night descends.


© Denise Goodwin, November 14, 2015
All rights reserved.

Welcome, October!

Today, I am welcoming the month of October with two of my favorite things:  ~ Poetry and PreRaphaelite art ~

There is something so fleetingly beautiful about this month to which I have always been drawn... the reds, orange, yellows and green.

And, there is a feeling that creeps into me and I cannot help but wonder if I have always felt the veil between the worlds thinning, for my thoughts often travel to those loved ones who have gone before me.  I cannot help but drink in every color and absorb the wild emotion of this season; for soon, we shall be blanketed in white for months.  The last hurrah of nature never fails to deliver....

 Wild roses burst from their hips one last time.  

Goldenrod and purple asters are sprinkled along the roadside. 

 Mums stand guard on every doorstep.  

Apples and pumpkins are abundant at every farm stand.

The smell of the crisp Autumn air with the scent of wood burning from afar. Leave it to Robert Frost to describe it so perfectly....

"O hushed October morning mild, 

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; 

Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all. 

The crows above the forest call; 

Tomorrow they may form and go. 

O hushed October morning mild, 

Begin the hours of this day slow. 

Make the day seem to us less brief. 

Hearts not averse to being beguiled, 

Beguile us in the way you know. 

Release one leaf at break of day; 

At noon release another leaf; 

One from our trees, one far away."

-   Robert Frost, October

"Listen!  the wind is rising,

and the air is wild with leaves,

We have had our summer evenings,

now for October eves!"

-  Humbert Wolfe 

"The clump of maples on the hill,

And this one near the door,

Seem redder, quite a lot, this year

Than last, or year before;

I wonder if it's jest because

I Love the Old State more!"

-   David L. Cady, October in Vermont  

"O suns and skies and clouds of June,

And flowers of June together,

Ye cannot rival for one hour

October's bright blue weather."

"Colors burst in wild explosions

Fiery, flaming shades of fall

All in accord with my pounding heart

Behold the autumn-weaver

In bronze and yellow dying

Colors unfold into dreams

In hordes of a thousand and one

The bleeding

Unwearing their masks to the last notes of summer

Their flutes and horns in nightly swarming

Colors burst within

Spare me those unending fires

Bestowed upon the flaming shades of fall."

-   Dark Tranquility:  With the Flaming Shades of Fall  

"Just before the death of flowers,

And before they are buried in snow,

There comes a festival season

When nature is all aglow."

-   Author Unknown

"The sweet calm sunshine of October, now

    Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mold

The purple oak-leaf falls; the birch bough

    drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold."

-   William Cullen Bryant

"Between the heavens and the earth

The way now opens to bring forth

The Hosts of those who went on before;

Hail!  We see them now come through the Open Door.

Now the veils of worlds are thin; 

To move out you must move in.

Let the Balefires now be made, 

Mine the spark within them laid.

Move beyond the fiery screen, 

Between the seen and the unseen;

Shed your anger and your fear, 

Live anew in a new year!"

-   Lore of the Door  

"There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October." 

-  Nathaniel Hawthorne

"Youth is like spring, an over-praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes.  

Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits."

-   Samuel Butler

"The stillness of October gold

Went out like beauty from a face."

-   E. A. Robinson