Poetry Samples.
NO ONE’S HOME
By Beatrice Eveland
There is a corner you hide in
When red comes knocking
Like a child
You fear that stranger at your door
If she were white
You’d peer through the window at her
If she were pink
You’d crack the door to talk with her
But when crimson comes calling
You retreat
Like a nervous tenant
Who can’t pay the rent
NECESSITY’S TEMPTRESS CHILD
By Beatrice Eveland
Inventions manifest, one by one
Conceived of souls, yet borne of the Sun
Contraptions brilliant, wondrous and fine
Worthy of reverence, honor sublime
So, in beginnings genius gleams
Winning great patrons, value flesh deems
Yet as earth’s vessels usher guests in
And humankind’s affections they win
Sly squatters slowly tighten their grips
Paralyzing hearts with doomed courtships
Till sense lies squashed while time flits away
Life’s prized commodity: each man’s clay
Thus one’s creativeness swirls, descends
Into oblivion where pondering ends
Lost to mind’s crevices, squelched, displaced
Buried in no-longer accessed space
This is tendency these modern days
Devalue personal matter, grey
Venerate portals gripped by weak hands
Gaze as each shallow surface expands
Watch fluff and fancy feed frenzied eyes
Let chant and chattering mesmerize
Reason be trampled, temperance damned
Squander true treasure: hour-glass sand
Prayer to the universe, lift up this lot
Blindly obsessed with trinkets worth naught
Focusing efforts on screens of light
Dismissing bodies front, back, left, right
Help all creatures their gadgets discharge
Thereby each moment’s future enlarge
Toss mere pleasantries into swift wind
Guide lost travelers meant to transcend
Release wild imagery, insight, thought
Chambers neglected, potential caught
Till reason breaks forth, expanding day
Life’s prized commodity: each man’s clay
THE COLOR OF SILENCE
By Beatrice Eveland
Silence is not golden
No
Silence is an overcast day that lies like lead upon my restless mind
It is a chilled and misty night that chains my nakedness to its path
Silence is a steel, serrated blade that sweeps itself across my silky skin
And hovers over my body with impending, careless pain
Silence is not golden
No
Silence is a restless dream that, like a hurricane, beats against my sorry sleep
It is curtains closed tightly to bind the morning and tie me to my bed
Silence is a riverbed of silt that sticks its coarseness upon my tender feet
And wears itself like sin from which I cannot bathe clean
Silence is not golden
No
Silence is gray
WORDS
By Beatrice Eveland
Words
They escape the lips and linger
When sound dissipates
And the sender no longer speaks
They ruminate in the mind
Like a simmering pot of gumbo
When no one tends to it
And as the message scorches and burns
The soul is infused with the odor
Of a tainted splendor now ravaged by
Words
You flung them from your mouth like arrows
Thrust in frustration at my lonely heart
And now they penetrate my remembering
Black, red, oozing, bleeding
Staining who we were
Draining who we are
Leaving me longing for yesterday
Punctuating my need to hear
Tenderness lost in the absence of feathery
Words
Now I have none to say to you
And you have left me to lie here
Day after day with only your echo
Pounding against my restless brain
A savior I could surely use
To press his warmth against my side
And sing away the drumming
With that one wished-for whisper in triplet
Alas, I fear you’ll never again say those three
Words
