The Other Bank

On the other bank
out of reach
Pride’s grimace
forbids it

Not a finger
can span
nor lift
that spell

No salve
nor ointment
for the bitter
Juniper berries

The ambitious debris
slate black scree
weeping cold
on the mountainside

The fitting seizure
of a moment passed
a crushed portcullis
slams

Not an ounce
of blood
most vital
to the eyes

And that egret
eats sticklebacks
once again
and forever

Succumb

as the tide of years

rubs the sand

against the bastion

of your pride

 

your certainty

your inviolate truths

as you succumb

again and again

 

as you choose

face over courage

arrogance over humility

as the very sap drains from you

 

secure in your safety

as the cotton wool familiars

bed downy nights with you

and those certain dawns

 

when the calendar

of your days

grows ever shorter

and even the sand, runs out

 

that bastion can join you

in your box

your succubus, your incubus

and mate for all eternity

 

and when you pass

and see them both

nestled there;

will your Soul cry?

That Scabbard of Pride

How oft thy contents hast me bled

Disembowelled my hopes

And tender yearnings

 

I rue that bazaar

Where I found thee winking

 

And all those encrustations

Rub me barnacle raw

 

And no salty ocean of tears

Can offer yet a salve

 

For thou art deeply etched

my brutal loathsome inking

 

But I had to haggle for thee

The fuller price lay hidden

 

My jewelled treasure

My bitter sanguine curse

 

My faithful companion

My sarcophagus and hearse

 

I rue that bazaar

Where I found thee winking

Pride quotes

Anger is the enemy of non-violence and pride is a monster that swallows it up.

Mohandas Gandhi

 

Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need.

Khalil Gibran

 

In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes.

John Ruskin

 

It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.

Saint Augustine

 

It is not the broken heart that kills, but broken pride, monseigneur.

Gilbert Parker

 

My birth neither shook the German Empire nor caused much of an upheaval in the home. It pleased mother, caused father a certain amount of pride and my elder brother the usual fraternal jealousy of a hitherto only son.

Conrad Veidt

 

One may be humble out of pride.

Michel de Montaigne

 

Poor nations are hungry, and rich nations are proud; and pride and hunger will ever be at variance.

Jonathan Swift

 

Pride is an admission of weakness; it secretly fears all competition and dreads all rivals.

Fulton J. Sheen

 

The pride of dying rich raises the loudest laugh in hell.

John W. Foster

 

Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, something is out of tune.

Carl Jung

Beyond the River

The other bank

Where words

no longer hurt

 

Out of reach

And harm’s way

Resting

 

All the regret

In China

Insufficient

 

Jettisoned

In those seconds

So unremarkable

As to cut chasms

 

No Geneva man

Can repair

A Time

most singular

 

When the earth

Turned

with a shovel

That hole to dig

 

Buried in the scree

Of fame

And

Ambitious debris

 

No salve

For the wounded

Or

The wounder

 

Not a finger

Can span

Those aeons

Across

 

Pride’s grimace

Forbids it

Banned

Taboo

 

And wrong

A word

Never uttered

Or owned.

My Black Eyed Pride

Some people want to win and be “right” so very badly….

they may “cut off their nose to spite their face”.

——————————————————–

With even my terminal,

Final grimace,

I will not yield

 

Even as the bloody river flows

My arrogance will not wane

I sever out my beating conscience

 

My Soul blinded

Beaten, subdued

My Will is my only legacy

 

Though my troubled pillow awaits,

That duvet of justification

Keeps warm in place the heart

 

My aching cavern

Contains each every echo

Of all my deeds

 

Not even a single picometre

Does it budge

My black-eyed pride.

A Grain of Salt

fading into time

a grain of salt

in the pillar of

looking back

 

the over the shoulder robes

slip on a clavicle,

a harpsichord

with no Bach’s flower remedy

 

a tincture of infinity

bound tight in sand,

a seed of truth

to worry into pearls

 

the salt of the earth

comes out of tears

shed as many scales

in the lack of balance

 

a couturier sublime

etched in the cloth

of human folly

making proud stalagmites

 

centuries and bastions

standing Easter Island guard

unless something sneaks past

on a whimsical wind

 

all the herring and rollmops

which curl up the tongue

to a shot of Aquavit

can’t curl enough

 

sweeping the ice

scoring it deep

and no rubbing of brass

will bring back the past

 

an echo of maybe and might

whispers goodnight

onto the pillow of dreams

wet now from eyes

 

and a love now destroyed

simpers and dies

for want of humility

as scarce as a scarecrow’s heart

 

the last train home

leaves the platform of will

forever now

and what price the bill?

 

and that which we do

unto those whom we love

is the most terrible cost

of a bitter revenge

 

passing now forever

a brief echo of a life

jaundiced by pride

as sad as a tourniquet

 

to share and to bind

one to another

its midnight now

and no turning space

 

fading into time

a grain of salt

in the pillar of

looking back