Best Suppliant Poems
Kiss me, I want to lift you skirt flying
Inside my heart like the wind
To dance on clouds of joy my kite
Embracing time, to hold you in my arms and spin
Festively playing in the clouds
Long lines of passion I can feel
Yearning against my string
Intermittingly fawning as you bow
Naked to the throb of wind
Garrulous like a lover moaninng
The scintillated light.
Etched upon the sweat shining
Silver shafts of ribs
Tensed in every fibre and nerve of being
...
I want to press my lips
Upon your cheeks, prettier than confetti paper
And let the golden sunlight drips
Chocolate of satisfaction on my tongue
Because I made a kite like this
Then to breathe your fragrance
Falling free
From every jasmine of your limb
Where the lissome bamboos hold firm
The quivering of my string
And when the wind exhausted
Make you loop and dip
Before suppliant eyes
To cash that boyhood zeal again
And run until you rise
Or shortening your leash
Bring you in
To closer dazzle my eyes
And let your string between my fingers fall
A ravished and splendid bride
I want to make you feel secure again
Your flying strained against my faith
Buoyed by the comfort of my love
For you the only joy that fills my eye
In the huff and blow of time
I want to lift you like the wind
And with you all my affections fly
To shout in glee from my little hill
Below unlettered clouds in pride
My kite alone to fly.
Companion?
not yet
Girlfriend?
no
(nondescript and tired)
Sweetheart?
the heart is deeper than that
it’s not coated in Honey
the word doesn’t do you justice
Beloved?
ah to be loved
a misconstrued formation -yes
the creation of words is vital
Darling
hold me in your grasp
in the
Dearest
of all embraces
a touch enlightens like a
Flame red
my
Inamorata
my
Paramour
you keep me
Steady
you my
Suppliant of pure intentions
i
Swain in your presence
you the
Recipient of my eternal bliss
my one and only
Truelove
you -my
Valentine
There it was gazing up – radiant –
radiating kaleidoscope silver green;
sharp with life, ready and expectant.
Spreading its claim, pressing out the grass,
was a thistle born from last year's seed unseen.
From where had it blown here to outclass
the perennials of the turf? Its time
now come to arise from the meadow supreme,
preparing to host bug life full time.
Come July it will fuzz with purple
flowers as a crown for a victorious queen,
armed with many a prickled sepal.
Visited by suppliant insects
who set and array her seeds; a frothy scene
for finches' feast. Passing air extracts,
disperses the progeny abroad
to wherever to be ready, once more unseen
between the blades never overawed;
a tribute to the Creator Lord.
Genial waves of warmth
speak through gentle rays
Awaken my senses
the marigold sings her joy
painted steps are born
Fragrant juniper fill the horizon
gusts of innocence flush my cheeks
first wiffs grab my being
as soft touches trace her core
Welcome into my sunlight
white wishes still endure
supplanted suppliant kisses
you've entered through my door
ANCHORITE AT THE GATE OF HEAVEN
Not heeding brute reality, nor matter’s bane
I kneel at the door of heaven, a suppliant,
Transcribing words of wisdom, like the rain
On wild flowers; the garden’s hierophant:
Anointed, a habit on my body’s beauty
I lie in the threshold of my tryst with God -
The first flight from earth being my duty
Becoming His perfect mean and golden rod,
I cool my heels in a dank, dark cell
Where half-light becomes my element
God’s plenty in motes, with the music of the bell
A love feast of the penitent.
I rise on wings of thankfulness and praise,
Sing out in silence the glory of His ways.
from IN MEMORY OF HER 2008
Night's shadows grew weary in the oppressive heat;
Repose of Earth's golden orb brought little relief.
Like a condor shadowing its prey from aloft,
There was no respite from the encompassing doom.
Behind curtains of vanity man hid his pride,
As he destroyed the Earth reaping all its rewards -
Spewing gaseous emissions - fallouts of his lust.
His reckoning upon him in forty more days;
God's Kingdom would come to Earth, for man's wicked ways.
Too little, too late as our foundations crumbled,
And the Horsemen of the Apocalypse appeared.
In man's last hour suppliant prayers rocked the night,
As humanity came together one last time.
Might man save his Earth forsaking his wanton ways?
Might he learn to live in harmony with his land?
Forty days an eternity for all on Earth;
Can we live as one - our answer might be our curse.
Repentant heart will openly bare
Sins that conscience does pare
Puckered lips tasting evil's fare
Poisonous side effects will square
With desire's glimmering silverware
Contrite eye into dark soul will stare
To catch a stime of iniquity's glare
A modulated ear will widely flare
When oppressed psyche doth blare
Discordant notes mind to impair
As vexed spirit feels springing snare
Suppliant hands will clasp in despair
As sorrows from guilty senses pair
Unsealed lips will solemnly swear
Unremitted inequities to repair
Ceux qui célèbrent ‘88 – Translation of Kevin Gilbert’s « Celebrators ‘88 »» by T. Wignesan
(This poem mocks the bicentenary celebrations of the founding or « settling » of the Australian continent by the British in 1788 from the point of view of the aboriginal.)
Les feuilles bleu vert et grisâtres du gommier
furent emportés derrière le banksia qui penchait
avec respect suppliant sans dire rien - en deuil
dépourvus du cercle des noirs qui autrefois s’étaient assis
autour de son tronc pour le caresser et chanter des chansons
lequel firent couler les fleuves en faisant enrichir la vie
des légendes et la rivière aujourd’hui sont remplacées
par des ravines rongées par les moutons et la boue
lesquels entravent les rivières en battant la retraite
finissent par s’accumulant la boue comme un signe de la défaite
on entendait le croassement des corbeaux devenus plus lugubre
en goûtant de la chair humaine en putréfaction
sous la pureté du soleil depuis l’époque des pionniers
aujourd’hui voilés par le smog qui empêchait même les
fantômes de les s’apercevoir
les colombes de la rivière s’arrêtaient de chanter par peur
invitera le chasser apportant la mort foudroyante
le kookaburra rie étonné puis garda la silence
haletant tout en étant saisie par la peur
Les plumes des législateurs en mouvement hésitaient
comme des voleurs s’accroupis autour de leur butin
combien de milliards eux ils octroyèrent
pour fêter le Bicentenaire
et faire dissimuler leurs tueries par la hilarité
et donner voix à la chanson pour ne pas entendre le grondement
du fourgon mortuaire.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
When I first awake, I am a complete emotional blur,
unprepared for the day rhythm about to occur.
Before day unfolds, I need release trials my wake holds.
Being still, I focus until suppliant, in quiet, ever reliant.
In meditation, I block all false traps; with eyes shut,
palms up on lap, my breath grows a bright, loving light
and a beautiful, shiny white box comes into sight.
All not of truth ideal, goes in box, until concealed.
One by one, as I feel the light beam as a prayer,
all my concerns, each trouble and every care,
goes inside the glossy box until all is ensnared.
I see a lid placed and ribbons tied with flair.
Then I view loving, beautiful hands descend,
hands of more love than I can comprehend,
to take the box of my troubles and struggles
up, up and away to handle and favorably mend.
All I held is now heaven released and earth crumbled.
My peace now doubled, I am centered in joyous ways
and ready for the new day of tumbles and scuffles
to meet the joy in my smile and ease in my muscles.
... CayCay Jennings
January 1, 2018
Tonight I put her to bed with promises of faith
That God does not keep with me again
The wall closes in at the crumpled gate
My soul has clutched its prayer so in vain
Yet despite the silence of a sterile sky
I will not my convictions now deny
It is more than accident that brought us here
It is more than mortal death I fear
That ever I go away from this place, void
Still of knowing the purpose I came
The reason that I suppliant is most denied
My moth like desire for the brutal flame.
O let her sleep, but not my trust, O Lord
Remember me by the promise of your word
My sovereign King, my God, defender be
I stand before you naked, shaken like a tree.
the delighted soul in beauteous suppliant
pill owed by sacred vows
recline waiting for joy to pay homage
then curtains of heaven draw
and echoes of laughter in crescendo
from the seat land of innocent mirth
far in yonder the gateway to the chambers of the sun
where the rays of truth fly without parching
nurturing the essence of nature
stand up and dare the absent enemy
but the beckoning roses go for a complacent walk
as looms weave kisses and caresses amongst
the blooming vegetation
the cool drizzly breeze bless the growth
floral virtues make the anxious fauna envious
the plants and flowers exchange smiles
as angels on the high table of Immanuel
sprinkle them with the heavenly dew
then as the conductor master blows his whistle
the forest break into free style dance
listen to the rolling drums of heaven
as nature waltz and gyrate to the song of heaven
The rapturous oceans roar
And shout their praise in gospel waves
That crash and smash
Against a cold and distant shore.
The mountains sigh and moan,
Lift suppliant arms, sing paeans and psalms
That rise then echo back
A hollow, mocking tone.
The forest trees may bow their heads
And bend their knees, but not to pray.
Instead, if you should ask them why,
They pay no heedless god tribute,
They're merely giving mute salute
To wand'ring minstrel breezes passing by.
Consumed with the fervor of the day
In my children's room I knelt alone
And cowered low before the throne
My mortal sins, O there to cast away
The lights were off, and silence reigns
Alone with me in all the lonely place
I found it opportune to plead for grace
For I knew burden where my spirit stains
And I his sweet pulpiteer would reclaim
My first innocence that bore his image best
And so with guilt and faith set then to wrest
For sovereign of my breast, I marked my aim.
With tears suppliant my heart did pour
And plead for mercy and power more
That I may find my ark an open door
And he my love may keep, and I to soar.
Then suddenly the climate of the silence change
A presence not human, and not met before
Around my shoulder held me to the floor
Faith fled me in awe, my body shook strange
I rose and went from room to room to find
What frivolous friend or child would play
With such a fragile fume of fumbling clay
I stood in emptiness, alone, alone and blind.
Nerving my sense against the certainty of truth
I knelt again, shaking from the first embrace
With form that had no sight, or manifest of face
I knelt as man again and fled as brute.
What God would come down and hug me hard
And near, while with a distant voice call my name
When I was not ready for death or the flame
What was I to do with the presence of the Lord?
I was not set to be a Jacob, to wrestle who
I could not see, my brawn of faith was thin then
Yet though I stood as his apostle before men
I fled the house, and fear more since none pursue.