Slow Cellar Door Poetry Challenge--Poll 1

[The Poets]

Please vote for One of the following poems in this poll. This is an open poll, so readers will be able to see which poem you've selected. You have until

Sunday, July 3 at 8 pm EST

to cast your vote. There are three polls--you may vote for one poem in each poll.

 

[The Poets]

Poem 1

Cellar Door

I looked down into that hole
where dust motes roll
by in the air. That place
where fuel once filled
the ancient black-stained
bin of oak and coal dust
roiled through the space.
The hist'ry's enough
to make you choke
on a Cape Bretoner's grief.
Relief comes with death
when the miner's drawn
his shaky last breath
and the company store
sends his new widow
and orphans
a sympathy card.

 

[The Poets]

Poem 2

Slow

Disengage from yourself
see you and your lover,
cloak them like a whisper
shadows of warmth and wetness.

Orchestrate a heated waltz
capture the moment and make it last,
longer than the down stroke
wider than one position.

No longer sex but love making
moving slowly and thoughtfully
ever caring and caressing,
building up to a crescendo
only then should the fire explode.

 

[The Poets]

Poem 3

Behind the cellar door

I know he’s there
he whispers in the night
cajoling me, enticing me
“Come on my handsome friend, let me out?”
“I promise to be extra good this time”

From behind the cellar door
I hear him move, hear him talking
begging me, threatening me
“Pleeeeeeease let’s go out to play!”
“Come on you weak fool, let’s enjoy the dark!”

I lay awake at night
sleep no escape from his voice
praising me, ridiculing me
“You were so clever last time, catching her…”
“You wimp! You couldn’t do it could you? I had to finish it!”

I put my hands over my ears
trying to block out the voice
beguiling me, scaring me
“I’ll be quiet if you just let me out for tonight…”
“If you don’t I’ll hurt you, you know I will!”

The cellar door creaks and groans
against the strength in his voice
seducing me, thrilling me
“You know you want to, you can still taste her can’t you?”
“Remember how she felt when you touched her?”

I know he’s there
face pressed up against the cellar door
frightening me, arousing me
“If you don’t let me out you will be sorrrrrrrry!”
“All our friends are waiting for us to come out and play!”

All my will, my fortitude disappears
reaching out to embrace him
soothing me, calming me
“That’s a good boy, such a good boy!”
“You know I’ll always be with you…”

 

[The Poets]

Poem 4

A-se-quu-i tsi-s-qua

Eyes of grey wolf
follow the dull scraping
of a slow cellar door,
haunting a decrepit stair.

Piles of harvest leaves
from a dying orchard rustle
as silent headstones mark
time in death’s consecration.

Time bestirs its dark cranny as
a sudden quivering overtakes
his carnal native wisdom .
Faintly , he hears an elder chant;
“Waya, `ga no `lv `sga u yv tlv'.

In Harmony his spirit sings,
'This bone yard be no friend
of coyotes and old hounds,
specially old shapeshifting
drifters like us...”

So dark eyes drift toward the
stars blessing stellar emanations
and red loam of mortality
soars upon winds of eagles..