white veil over head
chocolate feathers full fledged ---
benedictine nun?
karambit knife beak
dissected longan fruit eyes ---
elliptic airplane?
scavenger for prey
dead and alive you enslave ---
fancy in bird form?
22 September 2022
Life has no or little definition.
Who didn't, of different realm, state it?
Poets, philosophers, saints in their mission,
Haven't failed to prove whole of human wit?
Does one live fully and show how it is?
Do roads and routes show everyone same way?
Pilgrimage to perfection is a quiz,
All cannot tread through the hottest sun-ray...!
They say about saints and severe sages,
Hardest of all Benedictine rough monks;
Could these live with their existential ages?
Questions persist; Answers seems to get shrunk...!
Midst all fairest of all fair ambition,
Life has no or little definition.
14 May 2022
Sister Benedictine, her blinded eyes stretched upward,
seeing neither blue nor green
nor his mercy.
born into a religious family, expected
at fourteen, to kindle providence…
she’d flounder at best.
her neophyte gown, dark and drab,
long nights without prospect.
her grin grew as she noticed Father Francis,
the poetic bombast of his tongue.
the bored hunch of his shoulders.
together they’d let go of their latent inhibition,
invisible to the church,
except for one peeping eye.
Faith saw it — the lecherous act. the smolder of
her right spectacle ignited the steeple.
the overwrought mother of
the excommunicated sister
coldly calls her
by her middle name, Dolorous —
for she was promised to God
during the painful pangs of birth.
locked into a wretched wheelchair,
the mother stares into her child’s eyes —
mean green and steel blue, unglued.
6/9/2019
Eight word free verse challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
*Merciful Heaven - an exclamation
I foolishly fell from a mountainous high only to land on a desert dry
Images of liquid lust within my emotive eye calcified to a crusted cry
Warning winds in delusory distance holding hurricanes of resistance
Conjuring catacombs of assistance within isolation of nonexistence
The pensive pain penetrates as the perfidious palette perpetrates
Limbic resonance that hibernates awaking the storm that obliterates
Manipulation of the mangled mind Benedictine battery of the blind
Twisted temperance that is twined the cervical citadels are confined
Dormant delusions that may weep defiant deluge of twilight sleep
Restless roars that reap screaming shadows of the saporous sheep
Bactericidal beacons that bloom wandering the wounded womb
The slings and arrows of doom ebulliently entrapping to entomb.
March.24.2019
Pick A Title, Vol.3 Alliteration
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Nine hundred years these arches rang :
With fervent praise the people sang.
In early days the monks would chant
As from the heights bright beams would slant
Illuminating Norman stone
And soften with a pallid light,
With Benedictine monotone,
To put all worldly dark to flight.
With skill, in stone, mere men have wrought
A timeless edifice, which sought
To witness to the power eternal,
With habit, cowl and vow fraternal.
And still, today, the peoples sing,
Sweet music echoing from the walls;
The organ thunders, anthems ring
From medieval quire stalls.
For Adeleke's Top Ten
Snow
James Bond
Will Shakespeare
Woman in Black*
Maria Callas
Roberto Alagna
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales
Agnetha Faltskog from Abba
Shakespeare’s house, Stratford-upon-Avon
Drinks: Bitter, stout, Guinness, Benedictine
* Susan Hill's ghost story