Lady Labyrinth Poet Romanticism

Puzzle Stomped

"Puzzle Stomped"



Pieces scattered
placed on a table 
with boundaries 

between 
the incarcerated margins 
there are strict conditions

Time drips 
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted 

imperfectly
perfect 
towards upwards 

new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication

behind her veil 
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses 

holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded 

the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to 
free the redressed vicissitudes 

to undress the crisp breeze of her 
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets

gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes

Somewhere, 
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle, 

cutting tall poppy
each step she takes 
towards her freedom gate

In his hands he cups
the hidden 
missing piece

The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep

along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime

their spelt magic 
grows majestically spoilt 
seeded from a sweet perfume 

conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged  
off all the slippery knaves 

and wax-sealed pages  
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings 

turn into suffocating 
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces

She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints 
for a new road home

He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song

the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance 
thundering over a stormy mind grows

patch worked with glassed-in 
jarred ghost bees, the old 
puzzle of a story stomped on

He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time 

Beyond takes her hand 
And sensually whispers 
along all her fairest fears 

sweeping all pieces off her 
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable 

forgotten 
left lacking 
on the harsh floor

Cum dederit 
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas 

to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung

the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon

Time for a new story
He says darkly 
and swiftly closes

Past’s door.


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)

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Joseph P. DiMino August 27, 2020 at 4:49 PM Lovely poetry and imagery. You are indeed a Romanticist (not to limit you) -- weaving mystical threads, captivating us with dimensions perhaps many have never before visited or even dared to hope exist. One must never stop trying in matters of love, the opportunity for divine experience -- and to live vicariously, may keep one afloat for awhile, but there is no substitute for true heartfelt adventure. Great read! Thank you for posting. Lady Labyrinth August 28, 2020 at 3:29 PM I've got my writing by the balls haven't I? Thanks Dimino. Dickinson, I have discovered, did things differently. I respect that. My poem is about Death romancing one. All Roads Lead Home. Xx

Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 2:19 AM "DEATH, most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people." Khalil Gibran Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 2:23 AM "WISDOM, stands at the turn in the road and calls upon us publicly, but we consider it false and despise its adherents." Khalil Gibran

Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:59 AM "The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future." Oscar Wilde

Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:50 AM "HOME, is where our story begins... " 18/9. Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:50 AM Pinnaroo, Qld. Corner. Palmtree. '71. 1A-1-1.

Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:46 AM "Mothers of daughters are daughters of mothers and have remained so, in circles joined to circles, since time began." Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:57 AM "We are born of love; LOVE is our mother." Rumi Lady Labyrinth August 26, 2020 at 1:48 AM "To describe my mother, would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing falling colours of a rainbow." Mary Angelou.

Lady Labyrinth August 24, 2020 at 5:56 PM "Autumn reveals all her colours before Winter breezes in and tries to kiss you with her cold lips..." gees louise, some of those quotes....

Lady Labyrinth August 24, 2020 at 4:09 PM "Where thou art, that is Home". Emily Dickinson. Lady Labyrinth August 24, 2020 at 4:13 PM https://allpoetry.com/Where-Thou-artthatis-Home

Ts Poetry August 22, 2020 at 2:10 PM One must disrobe the heavy cloth of the past in order to free ones soul. You are one gifted lady with a pen that bleeds strength, truth, and humanity. Lady Labyrinth August 22, 2020 at 2:22 PM do you reckon? This is a poem about...x