¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ winters shall besiege thy brow,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beauty's ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ so gazed on now,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ treasure of thy lusty days,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
(Blackout of Sonnet II: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow by William Shakespeare)
You have come mightily upon my brows,
Yet blessing my folly when I had cried nude and
Watery,
My vagitus loud with the frenetic timbre of wartime
You have swept through the corridors of
Silhouetted stalks, fanning lean, vertical leaves that shield
The nakedness of the African seasons —perched
And soggy,
And at waking time, when November bares its
Thunder-whetted fangs with the ruthlessness of a Puff adder.
It is cold and skin-whitening.
Streaks of flaking, dancing rods descend on femurs un-pumiced.
Dehydrated throats accompany ancestral hymns on the
Humming bees’ melody, stifling the courage of the Tchagra.
Drab, and cracking the serrated softness of heels and
Stale, moss-ridden kernels, the waves of the storm,
Blinding, besiege our common sempervirence,
Long lost among the blurred firmamental gaze
And straw-gold material upon this prostituted earth.
Snuggly warmth comes by the power of woodsmoke
When dawn, shy from the raillery of the rising sun,
Hastens to the coronation of sacred rain beyond
Our limits —a pomp of relegated and flustered seasons.
Give me a memory
that never did occur,
not to you or anyone else.
Life is full of recollections
they sprout like scenic views
of a dead planet.
The past is only resurrected
by the already dead.
When you pass go
you have not left the prison
you have jumped back into it.
O my poor dead lovers,
my enemies and pals.
O all those poor begotten weeds
of momentary flesh,
let us once more besiege
any musty, old curiosity shop
beg a hoary taxidermist,
once more
for an everlasting history
of all that never was.
Last trumpet message
Is cleansing and warning sign
Prepare for besiege.
what I need is add
some of my poems and am glad
are those which i had
Will add some of these
as other new poems.
when we will allege
should be able to besiege
poems gain much prestige
when we realize
exhausted all of our tries
won to our surprise
After watching football game.
when we saw stampede
first fast horse has been in lead
which is what they need
when in a cluster
some were stolen by hustler
horse had much luster
when following star
searching for Jesus they are
wisemen way out far
when Jesus was born
may have been early one morn
His love did adorn
world never the same
Jesus would save lame and maim
from heaven he came
would sing song of praise
while sheep and cattle did graze
God has many ways
when fire would burn
learned about Jesus return
which is what we yearn
God is always great
see His Son will be our fate
which we anticipate
So which one is the best.
I choose to forget what pains to remember
there are no ifs or reflections of might of beens
over is finished and slowly the memory fades.
Emptiness besiege me
loneliness fulfilled me
solitude accompanied me long long ago.
What of love, is it real or just an affliction
is the joy overwhelms soon to be discarded
hurting remains and scars.
What of life, do we dare beholden to no one
or meek as the masses quiet as a mouse
surviving from scraps of the fat cats.
Does death play with our souls
break down our bodies and rot our will
accepting death's hand as he closes our eyes forever.
All is a circle on a deceptive cycle
round and round we spin
to end as we begin.
Naked and afraid wanting the touch of security
hunger for being
needing the arms of love to hold us.
Sleepless nights, dreamless nights
staring into an abyss of eternal darkness
I catch a glimpse of you.
Sound of your laughter, the feel of your body
a tear streams from my eye
I close my eyes and see your face.
Broken... the cycle stops
once again I reach for your hand
and you open my heart with your own.
You cherish violence
Is it your way to settle scores?
You hate peace
Wreaking havoc is all you think about
Though your secrets are held close to your heart
An aspect of individuality promoting secrecy
With every act you inflict unbearable pain
Like a fire,
You consume anything on your path
To sate your insatiable hunger
Many hapless people you kill off
Property you destroy
Anyone standing on your path,
You mercilessly crush
Like a river,
You make blood to flow
You are an agent of pollution
The atmosphere is filled with the smell of death
You are heartless
For you love to besiege the weak
And turn their compound into a battlefield
Under your watch,
Many have been made homeless
Others have become orphans
Some are either widow
Or widowers
You are unperturbed
But your anger has to be sate
Is your heart made of rock?
You appear unremorseful
But proud of your actions
We have to speak
Since you are likely to knock on our doors
And infringe on our spaces
Squeezing every breath from our lungs
Our hate for you is so immense
Your strength has made you ignorant
An act likely to lead to your downfall!
GIFT OF CHOICE
I opt for light that illuminates
and certainly not darkness,
For a life of choice not chance,
To be motivated not manipulated,
To be useful not to be a used fool,
To make changes not excuses,
To excel higher feats not compete.
I embraced peace not peril that flies,
or societal menace that makes nuisance.
I espoused happiness not happenings,
Self-esteem and not self-pity as it seem,
I choose revelation not only information,
To heed or adhere to my inner voice
not random opinion that besiege us.
I picked inestimable life and not death,
choose stewardship till I submit my breath.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: quatern (16 lines).
Copyright© December2022.
I suppose I had no choice
…but to collapse.
I'll always lose my path among the wreckage;
I can't keep my spirit from fleeing its traps.
What's the matter with me?
…I solace in this relapse.
Bright lights
Hustling bustling
Going home to my throne
Much trash murderous monsters lives
Living
Every
Blocks brimming with
Broken bottles vacant scenes
cast-aways haunted faces
Living
Empty
lots that besiege
The city's gutters filled
With contaminates linked schemes
City
Ghetto
Grocery stores
Apartment doors slamming
People talking while walking, smiles
Scheme dreams
Tangled branch of sacred knowledge,
These trees are the college.
Buried within cold expression,
there is an ever present lesson.
Consumed by the essence,
of a warm convalescence.
Universal intent,
for the love that was spent,
since the early event,
to besiege what was meant.
I choose to thrive.
I am alive.
I’m sinking in;
eternal spin.
I choose to grow,
the need to know.
To trust the written,
elder scroll.
TESTAMENT TO BELIEF
rhythmic ideas
implicit in
illustration
evolve
close
in spirit
to besiege
the ironic
&separate
the possibilities
felt in
combinations
of the ornamental
echoed gestures
into
intervals of virtual
melodies
positively
instigated
to
process
the harmony
to pierce
the soul
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
God-Confidence be the heart of my life
Like the sun be firm my trust and belief
Amidst titanic fears and mental strife
God-Confidence be the heart of my life
May forlorn fright pave the way to joys rife
May pains turn into rainbows, bring relief
God-Confidence be the heart of my life
Like the sun be firm my trust and belief
Amidst titanic fears and mental strife
God-Confidence be the heart of my life
May forlorn fright pave the way to joys rife
May pains turn into rainbows, bring relief
Like the sun be firm my trust and belief
May my life in God free me from all grief!
“Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident” (Psalm 27:3)
10 June 2021
WRITE A "TRIONET" FOR ME Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Ambush of a lie
North wind does it lie?
Or south leeward it lay?
Where does it lie?
Mounting evidence lying east
A peaking testament laying west
Gusty lies besiege down the crest
Why do Liars conspire against the honest?
Truth grazed in the valley
Squally lies ruffled the prairie
A Liar lurking trapped veracity
Oh how Liars hunt for morality
a lust to hunt
the pounce of need
poses a tiger unseen
bloodthirsty crouching mean
affliction follows the hunted's dismay
moving about dwelling in debris
overture plays the weak prey
a fragile cry confesses stray
smothered hunger to besiege
redeems a frailty near and dear
the last glance flickers to bleed
laid to rest with battered wings
swallowing earth to flourish seed
fathom sounds weeping for spring
claw, dig and grasp to breathe
fight for the surface of light
live to die savage to be
a place to seethe
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
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