Poem - Cloaks

The poem “Cloaks” is about the norms of dress by alternative communities.


Cloaks

There are cloaks, three of a kind
shared by those of separate mind
spectrum strung from here to there
made too plain or fancy dared
all have purpose to the one
sporting fashions uncommon
pay attention when they occur
you’ll learn something about the world.

There are those wrapped in black
flashy would be the gray
white would be unusual
it’s not the tux or waiter worn
instead the goal is to protest
when the world would do the same
for the pigments too bright to show
a drab disguise becomes the norm.

The gender middle finds the mix
to tease the eyes and quiz the mind
with the genres from both sides
taunting boxes with fashion’s edge
perhaps the cis will guess correct
probably not, truth be told
when focused effort is put forth
to confuse and not explain.

Pink is the color of the bold
put forth to state the obvious
exclamation for all to hear
says the blush of the queer
this is the last I’ll proclaim
the most bold of the three
now I’ve told you of the cloaks
hiding some and exposing rest.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170124.

Poem - Mountain Pass

I was inspired to write “Mountain Pass” after finishing the breadth of “Great Expectations”.


Mountain Pass

The path has found the mountain pass
leading up to higher realms
where a man will find their home
if earth revolves once more
the march uphill is not a rush
instead lends a misty calm
the path withheld in a fog
until the pass is come upon.

There the snow is on green branch
the evergreen that has last laugh
while it may linger long in leaf
the man finds lack there of the same
above this place the earth is white
the ground is frozen in permafrost
only swept by stormy winds
then brought low by avalanche.

Yet far below there lays the place
where journey started back in the day
by river the valley has been transcribed
by birth and youth they did reside
in that place of fair frolics
butterflies perform their labors
then the flowers bloom all day
the more the merrier as youth play.

"Hello descendants", says the man
from high on perch in mountain pass
"can you lend a bit of warmth
or advise me how chase the cold?"
to this query the echoes laugh
rejoining that the chill will lead
those who climbed so high in life
through the brink of mountain pass.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170124.

Poem - In My Chair (A Note)

“In My Chair (A Note)” is scary part of some people’s realities, both from the perspective of the person sitting in the chair and those elsewhere in the room.


In My Chair (A Note)

I sit here in my chair
thinking of the place of no pain
crossing over to find some peace
while leaving havoc in my path
holding finger in the dike
not to leave or worst will come
damn the river pressing in
hostage to the promises

it’s not that I’m worthless now
I’ve done some things of high note
pulled down the moon, struck the note
put the world to picture’s frame
it is instead that I’m so tired
worn to nub and then some more
with faint relief from time to time
flashing past, not to stay

shiny pretty has long gone
the flavor lost here in my head
see the realm where dust is king
to hold or eat, it is the same
blissful darkness would be the balm
gone, bye-bye, here no more
if only it could be mild
recrimination heaped high on my head

I’ll take my leave if you please
opening door to exit’s grief
pardon slight if you feel this way
so confused by my roles
I am the villain and victim like
more the former for cowardness
less the latter from illness’ grip
bidding farewell in my chair.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170124.