Best Mutterings Poems
in my dream he watches and I feel his desire
his need and I fear it, yet something lures me
I sense him in my dark room and feel confusion
it overwhelms me, I can hear his breathing close
he whispers my name, it comes violently like thunder
looking into his fathomless eyes I see love and hate
then his lips are crushing mine, it is obsession
he is evil, he is love, he is desire, he is cruelty
go away, come back, I love you, I hate you
he wraps his arms around me, oh the memory
then the dream fades and I am left crying
why does he haunt me but only the rain answers
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November 14, 2012
Poetry/Free Verse/Simple Mutterings/only the rain answers
Copyright Protected, ID 11-4359-33-14
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Oh, with great delight, from
out of the shadowy night, I hear
a loud, powerful melody drifting
such a mournful song
with a chant soul-stirring
a songster with whistles that crescendo
trills, chirping, twittering and gurgles, concerto lovely
that sends my own soul on a journy into the depths of my mind, for
beautiful memories
and faraway dreams yet to come . . .
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February 23, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Simple Mutterings/The Nightingale
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9967-55-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
I was born at dawn near a wild stream cascading over rocks,
the first sounds I heard were birds chattering in the trees. So loud.
It was quite a shock falling to the ground like that, gosh I was stunned
then I felt something nudging me, and nudging me,
so on wobbly legs I stood up and I looked up and up, wow she is tall!
I've been following her around for days now, but still not sure of anything,
except she is my mother, and she loves me.
What exactly am I? I try to do everything she does but I fall down a lot.
I have these things that look like wings, maybe I can fly? Nope can't fly!
I have become quite clingy and not just to mother but all the others too!
Whenever I wander off to explore they bring me back to them quickly
with a snort and flick of their long nose. Hey, I have one of those!
Oh, if I were like them, big and strong. I dream at night, what
if I were an elephant-
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March 16, 2018
Poetry/Personification/Simple Mutterings/ 'If I Were An Elephant'
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1001-1617-016
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
a glass butterfly,
with transparent wings,
rests on a wet fern-
oh such lovely things!
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February 27, 2017
Poetry/Jueju/Simple Mutterings/Glass Butterfly
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 10029-88-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
I held my baby
so perfect and very dead
and kissed his cold lips.
Till my last breath I will mourn,
my mourning shall shatter hearts.
I dressed him in blue
and laid him in sweet repose,
many passed with tears.
I had to let my boy go,
that parting haunts me ever.
_______________________
December 19, 2017
Poetry/Tanka/Simple Mutterings/Mourning and Parting
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9742-39-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
I was born innocent and my consciousness began,
And from the beginning like everyone I have struggled;
Those baby cries were my first protests about my life,
And as a child I thought I was eternal.
So many times during my journey I have risked life,
I have taken it for granted without any respect;
And from my first awaking into this world I have searched,
And searched for the meaning of my existence.
Now, I stand back an observer and analyze my choices,
All the paths taken, the twists and turns, the huge hills;
The people who filled me with love and even those now gone,
And I realize that life is the opposite of death.
So my life needs to have meaning, a function, a reason,
I want a journey with soul and depth and spiritual hues;
I will never have all the answers to the whys and nor will you,
This life is a gift to be used well and to not be wasted.
"So take your life into your own hands from this moment on."
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February 11, 2015
Poetry/Carpe Diem/Simple Mutterings/"It Is In Your Hands"
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1004-329-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
ducks g l i d i n g on a pond
a weeping willow tree touching the blue
a park of green and benches in rows
a blue sky above
white clouds f l o a t i n g by
tadpoles swimming at the edge
why do I remember this . . .
after all these years
with tears
as I stood a little girl
holding father's hand
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February 25, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Simple Mutterings/A Memory
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9982-09-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
The day I found the butterfly in me,
I was changed forever to- delighted.
I found dancing where I could soar carefree,
the butterfly and me are so united, that
we twirl and swirl blissful,
we dip and fold gleeful,
we fly up high cheerful,
optimistic,
aphoristic,
spiritualistic . . .
My dress is gauzy and purple feathery,
with butterfly I am ignited . .
entwined, we are one with wings filigree,
and when we dance I am happy excited.
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February 17, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/'The Butterfly In Me'
Copyright Protected, ID 17-10001-368-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
How could he!?
How could he betray me and the kingdom like this!?
How could everything he taught me be a lie!?
And so it has come to this.
I had hoped the rumors of treason were false,
But, alas, they were true.
Very well, I will stand in his way.
My duty is to protect this kingdom,
And that is what I will do.
He mutters a few words
And an attack flashes my way.
I mutter my own and repel it.
This could go on forever.
Even though I am younger by over a hundred years,
I am just as strong as he.
He always told me I was gifted,
Told me that I was blessed with untold power.
Well, now is the time to find out.
Even above our magic and mutterings I hear the battle outside.
I don’t have much time.
The longer he’s alive, the more the kingdom is destroyed.
There is only one way I know to destroy him.
But am I strong enough?
Am I strong enough to hold the spell?
I’m not afraid of death.
I’m only afraid of dying
If I don’t take him with me.
The time has come.
It is now or never.
God, help me succeed.
“Actus eritos inspiritus!”
As soon as the words leave my mouth,
I feel the power loosed.
I did not know I had so much.
Yellow flames burst from my hands.
He knows what I have done
And now tries to stop it.
Yet I am too powerful.
I have become what he has told me I was.
My potential is revealed.
The magic engulfs him
And he releases a scream.
The sound tears in to my soul.
I feel myself growing weak.
The yellow magic surrounding him has turned white,
And I can no longer see him.
All of a sudden,
My power is gone.
I can’t even stand.
I fall to my knees.
As blackness falls over me,
I see the light dissipate and die.
I do not know if I was successful.
I do not know when or if I will awake.
All I can do is hope.
It seems like I fell off the map on my life journey,
my path has been twisted and quite ferny;
and beauty is concealed . . .
I have learned to dip and dive in life's battlefield,
but this warrior of fate could use a shield;
and perhaps an attorney !
Fate just keeps throwing me off mountains I climb,
I end up in dangerous places most of the time;
I could use a fate guide . . .
So that over oceans and quicksand I could glide,
and face- fate's devious footballs with pride;
life is often lemons and lime !
Wonder, would I find contentment on easy street,
no, I like this journey, music and beat;
I like catching the football . . .
Standing strong and tall when I hit a stonewall,
so, I will play the game and there is a windfall;
I could be an athlete !
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March 9, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Simple Mutterings/Fate
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1002-488-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
I enter gates that are rusty and old, worn with age,
This eternal resting place fills my soul with sadness;
The time of year does not help, barren trees hanging low,
Dried up flowers lay forlorn on rows of graves.
I followed a pathway taking me deep into the maze of sorrow,
Many stones difficult to read, erosion and time destroyed;
Some are simple crosses and others pristine granite markers,
I cross over a bridge above a rippling stream.
Dark valleys lay before me and toppled statues rest in peace,
This scene of sadness holds a place in my soul forever;
For among the burial plots, vaults, lays a beloved sad memories,
There is so much love in this forever in this place.
This cemetery is serene and tranquil,
And I still weep . . . .
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March 21, 2014
Poetry/Verse/Simple Mutterings/Still I Weep
Copyright Protected, ID 14-1003-884-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
My mind is on red training wheels
Muse is gone and I’ve got a thrill
In writing about shouting daffodils
Moving around never staying still
Lost in thought a fun place to be
With original parts wonderful dreams
The art of heavy hearts creating
The next Noah’s ark in valley green
And they’d say you’re manic and mad
Why build an ark in valley green grass
They’d pick and jest with jubilant laugh
But time will tell and dispel peach path
Writing,
is everything to me! It is my true passion-
MUSE found me, a lonely little girl weeping,
with deep swirling words in my head
and in time, I wrote the words down. My thoughts fell, and
a writer was born in me- the poet here.
Today, my writing has more style- but I still
pour my heart and soul out on white just like that girl, with
words that twirl and whirl in the corridors of my head
until they must d r i p from my pen.
___________________________
November 18, 2017
Poetry/Verse/Simple Mutterings/Writing Is My Everything
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 1000-06-00-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Mute Mutterings
Of Carolyns Confessions Bartender...
Pistol packing momma lay that pistol down,
as the old song goes:)
sounds like the probby was suitably addressed,
bullet in kneecap, just a little perplexed,
back in ya corner you ***** cos your next,
hold on while im sukkin me last cigarette ...
on ya cobber, mine....Don
The world is in a spiral spin,
negative needs reversing in,
is the fix another bloody war,
blood n death of millions more,
yes mankind's mortal sin...
very just and kind of words,
hope, humanity, not unheard,
every man is just a brother,
every woman may be mother,
on the healthy scale of things.
Tony, beware of the deep,
the thoughts that creep,
memory searches one,
shut your eyes n go to sleep ,
and memory canters some,
beware the deep, of thinking some...
Bob
different views, different states of mind,
what is important, to that fellow of kind,
some of the spiritual, some money blind,
kindness to all doesn't leave us behind?
Don Johnson
life can be hard
it can slap a person down
suck out all hope(yes I
should say me)
until I feel so small
and insignificant
my thinking con-
fused
and swirling
I just want to escape to tranquility
to quiet and deep
silence with no reason to speak
alone
just me
dwelling with my poetry
sometimes the stru-
ggle is just too much and I am weary
the hill is too high
the answer
unknown to me
so maybe I will do nothing
that's what my father used to say to me
"when you don't know what to do
do nothing"
__________________________
January 23, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Simple Mutterings/the hill is too high
Copyright Protected, ID 18-985-746-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.