Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.73
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem

"Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Perfect Imperfections" - Part 1

Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Perfect Imperfections
is worthy of our fervent introspection
constantly, equatiously
for SHE is “You”
and “You” is SHE
this is no mischievous 
chicanery, 
this is no forced
emergency to gather 
facts that berate, negate
her ardent need to supplicate
in front of her mirror
daily seeking self-validiction  
to your nettlesome words
you’ve shaded her with 
your sharp thorns of 
hidden hate and jealousy
your waning smiles injecting
spite, pure fiction, 
exonerating X-Ray Vision evil eyes
delivered to her on your silver plates 
of lies with derisive smiles and words
that do precipitate, you delight in
her inward doubt 
for you think you have won
her eyes are numb with pain
she cannot clearly see anymore 
what truly resides there
in her heart and mind.
In her burning turmoil, 
her great despair
succombs to frisson
you bust to bits 
a deadly grenade exploding
all her perfect
imperfection 
that truly 
contain all her 
potent virtues
her real true grit.
Perhaps too late, you think,
"She's shut the gate".

What she hears in her mind
is what you’ve set on course
in her veins through all your thorny lies
she takes it on like a deadly drug
it takes effect and 
reverberates inside out
all her mortal 
inadequacies
NEVER
SELF-LOVE -
it denegrates.

This is lost, like all  her dreams.
Was this your vengeful scheme?
In her Divine Perfect Imperfections
she now infinitely doubts;
"Mission Accomplished",
you perceive,
she has lost within
all of who she truly is.

Well, that’s a lie.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Her heart is steely,
if rather uncouth.

What she requires is your
grace, respect, your loyalty.
She’s aware she is rising,
she thinks, 
this is her Resurrection -
perhaps you should be considering
genuflection.
Not dancing a jig with bitter almonds,
for now you think 
her core is dead and
you can celebrate your 
final Victory, your Win.
 
Of course, this is the result of 
non-warranted strategic intervention.
This was not your garden to trample 
on, fumigate all her blossoms with 
your spurious persona, your vitriolic acid
she had planted genuinely
to remain blooming freely 
in her holy, mother sacred breeze.
This was her garden,
her Golden Grail, 
her shrine divine
where she worshipped all
that came from her 
inner strength, her power,
her love divine, 
one pure beautiful flower
created in the lovely
April of her prime.

(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required