Creative Work: ‘Last Night’s Rain,’ ‘The Wishmaker’s Dream,’ and ‘The Warrior’ by Cleary Mallard

Creative WorksThis week’s submissions by Cleary Mallard play upon the tenuous relationship between man and nature, and how sometimes the lines between them blur. His effortless rhythm helps readers lose themselves in the poem, while the introspective subject matter keeps us grounded.

Last Night’s Rain

Wet roses, sick with heavy rain,

Left from last night’s slumber,

Smoking the breath of new days.

Swirling crimson sun, turning

Clouds kaleidoscopic in

Burning, dark rhythm.

Let the dew drip full of weight.

A whole morning magnified,

Inverted through liquid orb.

Solidify fiery decay.

Capture the meaning absorbed

Within chaos and abstraction.

In a glistening pool of water.

Lake akin to the forest fire,

Stiller, staying lower,

Ripples investing height

Upon the next day’s shower.

The Wishmaker’s Dream

High above Babylon, unbeknownst to the gods, a wish maker settles his hand on a boiling pot.

This pot contains broth of nothing physical from Earth but a mental collection of thoughts he hath heard.

These thoughts are desires and a sip he does take, for the thoughts inside are not made when awake.

From the minds of God and man alike pour dreams of better times, now upward they do go, to the wish maker they do rise.

But a few, scattered far, maybe one in each land have a broader sense of thinking.

When the Wishmaker finds one of these thoughts that’s when he will start drinking.

Though by accident sometimes he scoops up the lie of a fraudulent delinquent;

This bastard’s wish that he did sip, on Earth then starts to happen, and as Earth feels their tyrannical dream, so too does poor Wishmaker’s body.

Finally though, after much sifting a beautiful wish is found, he nuzzles on these in hope to achieve the love that he left on the ground.

For he remembers her mind as the first one he saw, a sparkling beautiful red.

A night left to store in memories core, one that he’ll never forget.

Her wish was pure, whole hearted and nice and pleaded to him as he left.

She wanted him to keep saving the world and knew he could do it best.

As the Wishmaker rose ever higher and faster he looked down with slight regret, his thoughts became more and his physical core was disconnected with Earth’s gravity.

“Had my loved one thrown me oh so far from this life I am used to living, for reasons that may change the world or just for a new beginning?”

But Wishmaker now returned to his pot, his old red lips just grinning.

A toothy smile he had not felt for a while let him know that he was winning.

For if he had stayed to love that girl he knows that the worldly dinning, that he’s kept at bay for many a day would someday consume the living.

Love is in life and life is in love but now he had clearly reached something above

Requiring not mere attraction or lovely reaction but some kind of unearthly interaction.

It lies in the aether between he and them.

He knows it.

And grants it there and then.

For he knows when people’s wishes are right, when they resonate as hers did that night.

The Warrior

Alone the warrior stands,

head held low in blood-

stained hands,

The unfortunate soldier

had been posed a question,

But all too late,

For the deed had been done.

His mind reversing bullets

through the barrel of his gun.

Out of the head, arms,

torso, fingers, hearts,

now strewn across the

floor like a bloody

rose garden.

The unfortunate soldier

had been posed a question,

But all too late,

The orders had been made.

He followed, blind as

he always was, blind

to all other troubles except

those of his boss, and

the knowledge of job loss.

But the unfortunate soldier

had been posed a question.

All too late.

A knot to never be undone

His mind agape in the

abyss’ grasp just like those

at the end of his gun.

How the message got into his

head he will never know, but

this time round the sight of

those bodies showed him

higher ground.

But all too late

For he knows now that he

has done too much, caused too

much worry, reveled in too

much pain, to ever do

anything except see those

heights from the ground.

How did fate show him

this now, reveal to man

a world which deeds bring

you to while he or her is

blind to its existence?

But it was all too late.

And so, head slowly

turning, he walked away

from the scene, knowing

his place in the universe

and where he would

always be, shutting all

doubt from his mind he

was somewhat

relieved, the sights he

saw so far away he

knew there was no key,

so venture he would

across his lands and

master them somehow

would he. Dropping

the blade, the deadly

gun, he picked up

speed and started to

run, ahead of him rose

the god of all lands,

the golden glowing sun.

Will it give him

another chance, this

early rising one?

Into its glowing

embrace he fell

and let his worries

loosen, evil was stripped

from his heart encased

and witnessed now was Lucifer.

Lucifer saw he had no

use for him now and

left, the man’s heart

returning from black

to red, alive now he felt

and ready to run when

before he was almost

dead.

The universe’s shifting

whim had written for

him a path, one without

glass, no vision without

venture, and a good

nature for him at

last. Reverse his

wrongs he would do

now in the course of

a new future, he would

reach that higher plain

with rays of sun to

nurture, and they nurture

him.

Of all the things

It was not too late,

The question had been

answered,

A golden yellow ray of

light purifying all

disaster.

Change will come and

as it comes it goes, as

is within its nature,

your heart will sink

and then re-think

and know itself ever

after.

And then change will

return.

Again, and again, and

again.

Through his poems Cleary works us from a state of absolute whimsy, into cold reality. Last Night’s Rain denies any human interaction at all, The Wishmaker’s Dream infuses humanity with a focus on the fantastical elements, and The Warrior shows us the very present reality of a soldier trying to amend for his self perceived crimes. All of these poems tie together beautifully with their focus on nature.

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