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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
Burning, yearning for the song,
sound is lifting, shifting down.
All harmonics; poison strong,
I, who wear a siren's crown.
Hesitant; strained cantata,
trapped in fragile stone.
My blood; etched stigmata,
sings for His, alone...
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
Convoluted; buoyant, defiant contention,
sleeps in the corridors of mind.
Dreaming of release from constricted womb,
in portraits of terror, undeserving.
Memories of ancient; promised ascension,
returning, discerning, by design.
Opens vacant eye wish; to murky clouds of doom,
suffocation; signaling, unnerving.
Father Time is tiring; musing on his throne,
queen is overdue, for a son.
Females halt the flow; murderous reprieve,
questions for the kingdom, yet unsolved.
Advisers inquiring; gathering of stone,
debating precious things with loaded gun.
Reputation swallows; reasons to conceive,
if harvest isn't held by hands of God.
I will not condone; the emperor sans his clothes;
jesters are not captured in these frames.
So the uprising; stirs a rhapsody,
genius can quell dark regression.
Tampered comfort zones; threaten to expose,
witch trials complete with charred remains.
In the downsizing of my voracity,
the fated have no time for confession.
Through much dissension; and chartered celebration,
clutching spirits huddle in the night.
Harem is debating; adorned with feathered fears,
eager whisperings exiting to pray.
Spiraled inquisition; guiding my elation,
to thwart the scheme of hallowed parasite.
The lady in waiting; not controlled by tears,
no dirges for dead offspring hold sway.
And so I writhe; thighs chained fast,
by bonds of here; now, and then.
Conceptual delight; yesterday seduced,
hearing the midwife's joyous scream.
Empty arms beckon; to be filled at last,
I drink this beauty down like sin.
Swaddled in velvet; guarded by truth,
caressed by a mother's sacred dream.
Lost in sweet illusion of tiny sapphire eyes,
measuring the wonder that I see.
So in conclusion; genderless surprise,
this child of newborn word resembles me.
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
I feel the scorn;
white lies, beneath,
alabaster, undaunted, cold.
Remaining unborn;
not to be reached,
entombing the windows to soul.
It is content;
head bowed in rage,
to drown in its own contention.
Intellect bent;
decorating cage,
comforts of creature's invention.
So; it's apparent,
echoes of crucial,
logic is stoic release.
Is it inherent;
questions for mutual
self destruction of peace?
Yet in the thunder;
I shall not quake,
promises hide in my smile.
Amusing to wonder;
the ways I could break,
solace for a little while.
Memories scream;
nightmares testify,
spirit is wired for sound.
Deep in this dream;
lost in the sky,
detesting the notion of ground.
Push; pull, tug,
caress, fight, hug,
labyrinths to navigate.
Droned incantations;
loud mute oblations,
whisper,"please salivate."
Still in the end;
my best brightest pleasure,
as geisha survives to kneel,
submission, the trend,
varnishing treasure,
slowly loses appeal.
Resistance; my flow,
it transcends this broken,
I fail to edit your pride.
So feel it grow;
misery unspoken,
replacing what I choose to hide.
Skin that is parched;
refusing to weep,
though blood drips from your crown.
I stretch to arch;
my wings while you sleep,
I'll die before laying them down....
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
"When my back's against the wall,
I don't know which way to turn.
Either way I go; I fall,
from the bridges I have burned.
When all my friends and family
have done everything they can;
when God's Perfect Will I cannot see,
I remember His command....
He said, "Stand."
He said to stand;
when I've done everything I can.
When my questions must have answers,
and they can't be found, in man.
He said, "Stand."
So, before I climb this hill,
my heart and soul I yield into His Hand.
He said, "Stand."
Well trouble and sorrow grow;
and, oh, the nights get long.
But His Joy will be my source of strength,
and His Love will be my song.
And when Jesus Christ breaks through the night;
by the power of His Command,
the Son will find me smiling,
holding on to His Mighty Hand.
He said, "Stand."
when you've done everything you can,
when your questions must have answers,
they will not be found in man.
He said,"Stand."
so, no matter how I feel,
my heart and soul I yield into His Hands.
He said,"Stand."
In my weakness; I'm made strong,
if I just keep holding on--
to His Hand,
He said, "Stand."
I WILL STAND......
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
His cherubim agenda rises
seeking hungered skin.
And how He muses, tantalizes
with the merest whim.
He leads me to a place
where passion's river flows.
Inviting all of me to taste
honeyed milk repose.
Hands become an an artist's brush
painting my desire.
This Song of Song's an arctic rush,
birthing newborn fire.
Rivaled by the sweetest wine,
his lips become an ocean.
Transporting freedom through my mind,
lost in deeper notion.
I want to pleasure more and more
to taste; to feel, to yield.
To find new ways, richly explore,
what only lover's steal.
Opening myself I'm led
escorted by this flame.
For this I know I have been bred,
to hear Him speak my name.
Lightening flashes in his eyes,
takes me with the thunder.
And suddenly I'm magnetized,
to this spell I'm under.
Can this be more than flesh inspired,
willing heart to break?
My Lord's Arms ; my Husband's Fire,
the Dawn to which I wake.
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
He never thought; tho skilled in the art,
how anyone could understand.
And so he kept his wayward heart,
hidden in the palm of his hand.
Going back to a lonely bed,
not comforted by the clock.
The tormented life that he had led,
a mind that raced nonstop.
I have seen this; in my mind,
the tossing and turning each night.
Waiting for some open heart's sign,
with promise to feel the light.
So; he trudged thru weary days,
struggling to breathe.
Not knowing peace; but confusing ways,
deciding not to believe.
She always dreamed; tho not out loud,
of that special kiss.
Every time she sang for crowds,
something was amiss.
The social life that she had known,
was coming to an end.
And every night she slept alone,
needing more than a friend.
I have watched this; I have prayed,
trying to help her believe.
As she struggled to just stay brave,
wearing her heart on her sleeve.
So; she worked faithfully,
to keep the wolf from the door.
Not having much security,
but she knew there had to be more.
One day she met this stranger;
his merriment sprinkled with glee.
But in his pretty eyes she saw danger,
and whispered,"what's happening to me?"
From here on out she couldn't turn aside;
not that she even wanted to,
her feelings could not be denied,
she had to think this through.
Meanwhile; his heart was enraptured,
though he never said a word.
Her cute little smile; his lost soul captured,
others thought this absurd.
She brought him chips; a coke, and seemed
to just always be there.
They felt like they had met in a dream,
they had so much to share.
So; by and by through much duress,
their secret could keep, no longer
Late one night,they had to confess,
together they were stronger.
And now their days are blue skies;
for sweet love they have found,
and she is lost inside blue eyes,
and forever he, in brown.
"Happy Anniversary"
to 2 people who HAVE FOUND the magic..
I LOVE YOU BOTH FOREVER...
Mom
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
This is not rehearsal,
the blood you see is real.
There will be no reversal,
these scars will never heal.
No masquerade is allowed here,
be sure your weapon is sharp.
Your nemesis can smell your fear,
like honey, in the dark.
Interacting with pure blood,
smeared with hallowed stain.
Can He ever get enough of,
wet dreams from your pain?
Dancing with the spectral Death;
Jezebel in scheme,
you won't feel His claws or breath,
before He hears you scream.
He has been around for eons,
and He designed the game.
His specialty is crucifixion,
do you know His Name?
Lost in this mindless zone;
where the trophy case stays filled;
leave the Origins of chaos alone,
let it balance karma's will.
And so;the fame points to the name,
familiar tactics, sure.
But what if the Master of all this disaster,
was not just Lucifer?
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
We came together from pieces,
life was slipping away.
I thought that whatever life teaches,
we could learn from each day.
Mistaking anger; for passion,
chaos colored the skies.
Thunder and lightening was crashing,
and all I saw were wild eyes.
Are we part of a vision,
that sees deeper than we can?
Are we the start of a mission,
should you be holding my hand?
Can we arrive there the first time,
to save each others' screams?
Are we the reason love is blind,
or must we sigh, in dreams?
I stand alone here now,
though you remain so close.
Flesh and bone; I fear somehow,
that we are becoming....ghosts.
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
Cobalt storms; not azure skies,
predict changing seasons.
Vague ambiance of lies,
waltz with fated reasons.
So tug upon the corners,
try to veil the smile.
Gather all ye mourners,
weep for her awhile.
He knows that she flows,
rivers channel deep.
But ocean's floor below,
caress his troubled sleep.
Golden pair; wounded dreams,
silently entreat.
Moments slide between the screams,
stranded in the heat.
She can't draw inside the lines,
of howling winds deranged.
And up ahead; ominous signs,
the highway looks so strange.
But he can hold her brave will;
in his hands so tenderly,
not even strong enough to still,
his mind she cannot free.
He is the lust to breathe and fly;
his wings stay unused,
within her voice; an angel's sigh,
but the melody, confused.
When questions birth insanity,
saline begs for more.
But he can only hear and see,
the vision behind the door.
And he will toss; and he will turn,
until his eyes are bright.
But in the loss of orgasmic burn,
the other sighs in the night.
He cannot wait; the world is open,
quiet, he leaves the bed.
Heart is faith; pulse is broken,
but his soul must be fed.
With trembling hands; he gasps to feel,
her curves and body light.
Silken strands and he must kneel,
to deliver here tonight.
He hears soft cries; for all too soon,
the other is in pain.
As his soul dies; behind the moon,
denying need again.
Have you ever had to choose,
one over the other?
And you knew that you would lose,
giving up one lover?
Life is a composition,
he strives to hear the source.
He must create; orchestrate,
passion is the force.
When you read this piece of art,
you may think me wrong.
But I've heard the rhythm of this young man's heart,
and the music keeps him strong.
As he grows closer to his wife,
it's the stuff dreams are made of.
But from now til the end of his life,
he's alive in guitar love..
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Richard Weyler Poem
“A crippled, crawling,curious girl,
stumbled into light;
her fractured, hopeless, dreary world,
is given second sight..
Her heart,hardened, and doubled,
broken, now, into.
her manic thoughts, so troubled,
daily,now, renewed.
An memories,mirror, an attack,
by tragic,childish fears;
the smile you see is now unmatched,
caressed by happy tears.
The enemy of stolen time,
now it’s become best friend.
The youth she had to leave behind,
has been restored again.
Her faith though kept; still shaken,
grew higher than the storm.
The nights that had been taken,
now feel so safe and warm.
A life of bitter ashes,
replaced by dreams of dare,
the sorrow of the past has,
vanished into air.
From believing no one loved her,
to convinced that Some One does.
From accepting she must suffer,
to receiving special love.
From cringing in a cold cage,
to soaring high and free.
From leading lady, on a stage,
to protesting out of key.
The mask,hiding the glow,
fell to the ground.
Revelation knowledge flows,
peace can make a sound.
This change came slowly,
and remains a mystery.
He; forever Holy,
searching for..just…me.
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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