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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