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Frank James Ryan Jr.

The Power of The Written Word-{50Words/65 Syllables}

Orphaned...,
he
knew
not
what
Life
would
render.
So
he
sojourned
off
to
see
what
he'd
missed
for
so
very

[...] Read more

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C a n c e r

Cancer closes caskets
after it closes lives,
as if this cruel demon
bore a ''Fifth Stage'',
upon the grief and loss
for those left behind
to woe in Cancers life.

We have been to the Moon,
kodacked moments on Mars,
and, tho' medical science
has made notable progress,
still Cancer strikes hard,
caskets will remain closed
til we celebrate its Death.

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The Questions (Senryu Pentad Format)

Won't you come with me
To Utopic Dimensions
Honeyed Dreams sublime.

Do you thirst like me..?
for a taste of Rhapsody..?
Take me in....imbibe.

You are warm and sweet
but are you mine forever..?
Speak your tongue with mine!

Answer my question
'Fore I close my eye's again;
Dreams, like Time...pass away.

Hour-glass empty
A very hard decision
Nirvana, and wine!

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F o r s a k e n...

And, in lesser worlds, ther'd be time to rest-
ones eye's from the eysore's set before them.

For eyesore's cast a veil o'er Natures Heart-
drains the pacifying milk, from her breasts,
shaves the newborn bark off the infant Oak.

I know so....believe it to be true and unholy-
as this is what we do...in our greater World;
For God not forsaken us............we have HIM

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Taking Nothing 4 Granted

Thinking out of th' box is not necessarily
a panacea to a garden of long stem roses,
for if it were, what else would anyone do
in achieving.......excellence and accolade.
A certain positive, that 'Box', out th' gate,
like the runner who is off 'with' the gun.
Yet, that advantage attained at the start
Will only end, with objectives being met
If the last leg be run as if th' first wasn't.

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F o x... In... B r a s s...

Tawny beige, young crystal fox...
she carries her arrogance well,
poisingly... 'pon narrowed shag,
plush, wine-deep burgandy.
No Gaultier Catwalk,
this be prologue
to an attitude dripping
hubrisly,
poutingly;
so damn angrily,
thickly fulfilingly -
strutting toe o'er toe -
yet with masked self-woe... such paradox.

No, Dramas' never seen the likes of her before,
All rise for her gala Brass encore!

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D e s p i t e 1865

...in the beginning,
when insignificance
upheld its worth
and passed torch
to pertinence,
vouchsafing they
who laid down their souls
in fresh cotton fields
with leaves hung on stems,
hot. bloody sharp
as rusted steel knives,
pricking and piercing,
the sweating paled flesh,
the pulse twitching nerves
of subluxed spines,
over again,
and over again -
over and over again
for water and stale cornbread.

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Of The Final Days...

winnowing at the notion of judgement
we ocularise with antithesis
like charlatans in lieu of antipathy
and all that which we've become
principal perpetrators, desecrators...
woeful menstruators of.

and shame on ourselves
though just mortal life we be
for learning how to sneer and bastardize
all we learned in childhood innocence;
so now what do we do, what can we say
when time decides to wash its hands of us

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A Nuturing

Nestl'd in curve as crescent moons
against each other....reverberating,
the youngest of her flock, coveting,
jockeying for vantage, favour...for,
anticipated warmth....sore fruition
for the suckled breast, moist, hard,
achieving equal measure.... pooled-
within her swelled, pacifying glands,
thus, to ration, nourish, propritiate,
allaying her brusque wet hatchlings,
her assurance they be well settled in
for nights soft-sleep by moon-watch.

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P e n u m b r a...

Two Eyes fell upon me
somwhere in God's space
I blinked,
closed mine,
time paused -

[.........]

just like that;
opened mine and saw
one eye,
shadowing the other.

Two shadows fell upon me,
penumbras, they be,
crossing back and forth -
one afront the other;

magnificent a scape
as Chenas Mountain.

[...] Read more

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