Up til now Iron Poet has attempted to be lighthearted. Iron Poet noticed some poets took the serious road anyway. So, in a nod to thems that want to, this weeks Iron Poet is as follows:
Meter / Style: Free verse
Theme / keyword: beast
Stanzas / Lines: no more than 14
The word “beast” itself does not have to be used. Any form of the word, synonyms, concepts, etc. may be used. Speak to beasts of burden, a difficulty, a monster, or the beast within. Whatever beast you’re aware of, use it.
C. S. E. Greenberg
Glowing, golden eyes,
splashes of light against the blackness;
dancing hypnotically as she pads,
stalking through the jungle’s depth.
narrowing to slits as the panther readies herself…
small moons beaming as the panther pounces!
The rabbit flees,
and the lights blur, bounce, and flicker,
as the panther chases down her prey
and catches it in her jaws.
The lights disappear as she bites down
and the rabbit dies in darkness.
We feared the beasts; we kindled the fires.
We killed the beasts; we herded them home.
We tamed the beasts, and paired them in yokes.
They ploughed our fields, carried our burden.
Our burden grew; we ploughed on still deeper.
We found a new beast, and carried on stoking.
We tore up the land, looking for more.
We drilled for new blood, to keep our fires burning.
Now, out of control, we still need to grow.
Dante’s inferno rises to meet us.
The planet is screaming.
We don’t hear its cries.
The skies, they grow darker; the world short of breath.
Now, we are the beast; we are earth’s burden.
“The Beauty within the Beast”
He danced with her all night
Not knowing her intentions
For she put on a good show of being a normal lady
See, he was a beauty with a heart of gold
And she was a beast with a heart as grey as coal
She’d been burned so many times before
That she never let anyone in her heart
When she took him home that night, she had every intention of killing him
But something changed inside her when she looked into his blue eyes
She saw the same sadness inside him that she had felt for years
Instead of hurting him, she listened to him talk
The two cried together and remained best of friends
For the beast had finally found her beauty
Shining inside of Him
“Bumps in the Night”
I’ll never be your beast of burden
And you’ll never be my sweet little thing
So now that we’re clear
Let’s see what we can do
With just a few simple lines
And a bit of string.
I dare you, she said.
No, I double-dog dare you, I replied,
And with that we were off.
If that sounds like fun, you may be a beastie too.
Join us underground
Where the wild things are
Where we play all night, and sleep all day…
Michael Wayne Cottle
“A Timely Beast”
When I first knew the beast,
He would help me grow in ways only he could.
He healed my all of my wounds steady and sure.
Wounds of an emotional and physical nature,
Until they made pain a distant memory.
He made me as well as I would ever be.
And now the beast turns on me.
Sure, he still helps me with experience,
But now, he tears me down physically.
I can’t keep up with his changes.
He is no longer my friend.
And his arrow will steadily fly,
Long after he has put me in the ground.
“What the hell is wrong with you??”
That question. That tone of voice.
That that stab into my core.
Nothing could penetrate deeper.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nothing! Your not supposed to see anything!!
Have you seen into my depths? Glimpsed my worst?
“You just bring out the worst in me.” I reply.
But is that true? Maybe in that moment.
No one is totally good. You see what’s hidden when you cut deep.
Could you see all my terrible?
Leaking from the wound, mixing with the salt in my tears?
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I don’t know, but you won’t have to see it if you don’t cut me open.
The meadow, green and lush,
Bathed in mist.
The air crisp and fresh.
A vista with trees and
Beasts upon the rolling hills
They look up and see me walking,
Feed tubs in hand.
They swarm towards me,
Skidding to a halt.
I place the treat within their reach
and heads once more dip down.
D Lee Cox
a room far and wide
dreams and diversions
cover the floor
cowered by the roar
of the beast
stomping and tromping about
held back by this or that
wears one too many hats
careless of the cost
“Cullman County July”
black top licks my bicycle tires,
burns my feet
cicadas buzz like five-eyed winding clocks,
timers for kudzu giants
playing red light-green light,
only moving in the dark
in the carport,
there’s a rainbow in the oil puddle
and a deep freeze
and grape popsicles
just dug potatoes piled in the corner
still wear the red dirt
that gave them life