Category Archives: Poems

Yoseph Vladimir: Cat (Part 2)

Story the Second

Yoseph Vladimir.
Hunter; predator
watches as the prey
waddles into his line of vision.
The fat animal is low to the ground
and runs quickly,
but is not paying attention.

It’s hungry,
and upwind.
Yoseph knows he has a chance,
if he’s careful.

He hunkers down
closer to the ground.
Eyes wide, tail twitching,
he nearly chirps his eagerness.

Yoseph moves closer,
slowly inching his way to the prey.
The animal’s sleek brown fur
glistens in the bright day.
He can smell it from here.
It smells like dinner.

Yoseph is not hungry.
His human keeps him well fed,
even with six other felines in the house.
But it is a joy to catch his own food.
It keeps him fit
keeps his senses alert.
Unlike his siblings,
who lounge around all day
accepting caresses.
He likes caresses, too
but loves being outside
especially right now
when the prey is unaware.

Yoseph moves ever closer,
his ears flat against his head.
Close enough, he pounces!
The prey tries to run,
But Yoseph’s claws are deep in its skin.
He bites the prey’s neck,
holds on tight as it tries to break free.
Yoseph, no novice to fights,
holds on as tight as he can.
The prey will be his.

Soon,
the prey slows.
Soon,
the prey stops.
Soon,
the prey is dead.
Yoseph looks at his snack.

This odd creature
with short limbs and long claws
was no match,
even at twice Yoseph’s size.

Feeling proud,
he starts to eat the creature.
A small evening snack.
Before finishing,
he eats away at the neck,
separating the head
from the rest of the body.

Carefully,
he takes his prize home.
Proud of his abilities,
he sets the head on the step.
Rather than leaving it
for the human to find.

Yoseph waits;
his head held high,
his tail curled around him,
front feet placed perfectly
in front of him.

Yoseph Vladimir: Cat
stands proudly by his kill,
waiting for his human to see.

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Yoseph Vladimir: Cat

Story the First

Yoseph Vladimir,
Joey to his humans,
stalks the underbrush
listening for prey.

He pauses, listens,
and moves on.
He sniffs the air,
moves one paw forward,
stops again.
Patience, thy name is cat.

Finally, prey makes a mistake,
shows itself to the tireless feline.
Yoseph launches himself at the mouse,
catches it on the first try.
He kills is quickly, eats most of it,
but leaves the head intact.

Careful of his prize,
he picks up the head
takes it to where his human will see.
He places it carefully
next to three other animal heads.
Yoseph steps back, admires his latest kill,
and cocks his head.

As if understanding order,
he picks up the latest kill
and places it close to the end of the line.
He picks up the other heads,
arranges them carefully,
and steps back to admire his work.

A satisfied grin shows on his lips.
A happy purr emanates from his throat
as he heads off for another prize.
The presents are not yet right.
It needs one more.

Prize captured,
he heads home and places it
on the step,
in the right order.
Making sure each head
is in perfect alignment,
and that the one before
is larger than the one
after.

His human will be so proud.

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Enter the Maze

I am going to publish a book of shorts soon. The stories and poems are picked, the cover art is done (and beautiful!), I have the back of the book written up (usually difficult for me) but the editing is not done.

I didn’t know what I wanted as a cover, but asked a friend if she would be willing to take a stab at it. She read the book and came up with a good idea. It sparked the back of the book information and title, and for that I’m grateful. I have never been good with what should go on the back of the book. But it’s done. The stories are done and the art is done. I’m pretty dang happy!

In a few days, I will post the cover art and the back of the book information. The book, which is entitled Enter the Maze will be available through Amazon (print date to be determined), as is my first book, The Elven Prince. Find that here.

Happy reading!

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Depression

The depression creeps in
and I wonder
is it all really worth it?

The silence interrupts
and I wonder,
will there ever be sound again?

Why not end it?
Does anyone care?
Do I care?

In this moment,
the answer is no.
I don’t care.

And I don’t feel like anyone else does, either.

But that’s a lie,
fed by the darkness,
the depression
and the silence.

I can’t keep dwelling here,
but it’s familiar
and out there is a bit of fear,
rolled up in the mask of light.

And I do not want to face it alone.

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Beautiful world

Some people look at this world,
and see nothing
but the dark decay of
death and destruction.

You have seen past that
to the beauty
that resides everywhere.

I look at your pictures,
your snippets of reality
and realize that you see beauty
in everything.

May I live in your world for a while?

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Dreaming…

inspired by Salvador Dali’s painting: One Second before Awakening From a Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate

 

SLEEPING, Sleeping, sleeping

FLOATING

on a bed of stone.

My own thoughts

Mixing

Mingling

with memory,

true and false.

LONELY,

lovely tigers

Pricking me with a gun.

 

GUN

like a needle,

SHARP

pin prick.

Waking, seeing

a l m o s t

the red blood of fruit

pomegranate…

 

Seeds, eaten

cause hallucinations;

a bee stings.

 

THE ELEPAHNT

white as a ghost

Shining out the moon

WALKING

on flamingo legs

Looking human…

 

SIGHING

I stretch

as the blood boils

in my body.

The beads,

my sweat, my FLUID

falling toward the stone bed

I am waking on.

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Bishop’s Bar: Take Three (Her Turn)

She turns,
hearing a voice call her name.
She turns
hearing nothing more then the wind.

She
could have been so much.
But life
caught up with her.

Young once,
she dreamed of dancing.
Money and lust
found a way of killing dreams.

She turns
hearing so much more then the wind.
She touches
cold dead arms withered by time.

She sighs
feeling heavy breasts like peaches
in a training bra.
They are just as real.

Nails
red like lust
move hair
frail as hay.

Her dress,
a shambles, relects a lost life
revealing
what she truly is.

She speaks
softly calling out to the money
of the man
in the bar stool next to her,
to no avail.

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Seven

The passage of time seems surreal.
Has it really been that long?
Has it really only been that long?
The pain is less,
but the memories of you are still fresh
I don’t cry as much anymore,
but my tears still threaten.
I think sometimes,
that I am ready to move forward.
Then a memory hits me hard,
and I retreat once more, into my sorrow.

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Bishop’s Bar: Take Two (Hang Over)

“Gimme another.”
No siree, says he.
Refused service- tossed out
stumbling to the door
grabbing for the knob

missing

hitting glass
hurting knuckles
reaching again
seeing double
finding the knob
grasping cold brass
pulling open the door
hitting his head.

Neon sign blinking
door slamming into his ass
red sign burning his eyes
stabbing into his inner brain
giving him a headache.

Hand to eyes
blocking light.
Hand to mouth
blocking burp, vomit.
Stumbling back to the wall
until the shakes pass.

Stumbling to the car
fumbling for keys.
Neon sign – goes out
comes back on
reflecting off chrome.

Almost finding keys
flesh on metal
then metal on metal ringing out
causing the headache to blossom.

Door screeches open
stomach heaving
leaning against the car
one hand on cold glass
one on heavy warm gut.

Feeling passes
stumbles into car
try to start it
giving up.
Reclining seat
passing out.
Explain to wife in the morning.

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Blank Page

Note: Wrote this in college. Find it very fitting for NaNoWriMo.

The blank page
stares at him, mocking him.
It is like the universe
before it was born.
Vast and empty, waiting
for God, or science,
to change it.

A black spot appears,
as a star or planet;
an idea born of God,
the writer.

The spot grows; forming
the planets of ideas, the homes
of beings not yet created.
The God looks on in surprise
as the page takes on new meaning.

Suddenly, a mark is struck out
as a troublesome child,
cast from the house.
The child, left alone,
leaves an ugly stain
that can never be fully removed.

In the end, the God looks back
on what he has created,
and sighs
resting,
knowing a new world is waiting
on the next page.

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