Best Sybil Poems
It was said I was born of quenched love,
almost vanquished by a storm along
the Red Sea in a din of gray November.
Wandering around dunes, a Maiden
kind housed me comfortably--
O she, laughing among lilies in the quiet
and wild current; nourishing my psyche
with keen sensibilities.
Time passed between rain and light,
as I crossed Earth and Heaven with a sacred
power of a growing woman that clutched
the mystery of unknown incidences…
And when bells of a day's time have played out,
visions sailed in my mind--
that our King drew counsel from my foresight
warmed by an esoteric fire that burned,
speaking of prophecies and omens vouched–
this higher instinct streaming from ‘ Maiden Mother’
who opened a celestial gateway that betook me.
So the tale of a Priestess newly arisen
where legend's moments fell on a gliding leaf;
a story half told of my telepathic gift
of mortal beings honoring me, ‘Sybil, Sybil’:
yet, though revered as a sage, my own destiny
was not mine to hold.
Not even where I truly came from.
Create A Character Contest
7/7/2017
Violins plucking strings
of horsehair, satin ribbons
violet violate a dark
foresaken world
like a beautiful dream
romance unravels
the sweet pain
comes undone
then those wild horses
dance macabre neck-to-neck
racing all the way home
for want of a better country,
these beautiful creatures
limbs racing all lathered
opening wide
and unconquered
plunder new territory
in the red seeded seat
royally the hidden thing
beats like a machine
underneath the skin
a ripe juicy red apple
no cherry pip
feeds the mind of
marquis de john donne
and dorian's sybil vane
gone all wrong
Violins the shape
of a woman
the music inside
her intense jungle
prowls around
like an exotic
soft pawed purring
black leopard
something wicked
or wonderful
in the garden
this way it comes
the soft satin
that binds metaphoric
minds like wrists
the will to resist
comes undone
something wicked
or wonderful
in the garden
dappled in shadow
shining and hidden
like a solitairy secret
like a morning star
this way, it comes
Candide Diderot. ‘24
THE SIBYL
If sometimes I have waited on your word,
Do not forget there is an empire
Out to the east, where freedom is muffled,
Where the autonomous cry, the great discovery
Of a soul to itself, is labelled treason;
Tied to the west, where freedom’s pennant
Is torn and soiled like a prostitute’s earnings.
Do not rebuke me, when I see well up
In your eyes, the free zone of my heart,
A ransom, perjured, sold in slavery
To patriarchy’s fomenting lies.
Forgive my cowardice, as I rise to speak
I am speaking on behalf of millions.
from IN MEMORY OF HER
Do hope the other four are keeping in time Dorothy
Yes Sybil they are all looking exceptionally elegant
When are you going to tell them we have passed the audition.
© Harry J Horsman 2011
Balzac is beading,
Robespierre is reading,
Introversion I am needing,
Reflections I am heeding,
In old bat cave central,
Like an ancient Sybil, hypothetical,
Wisdom is supposed to come with age,
As Balzac turns his own page,
Why am I more religious than the Pope?
Can any faith give Earthlings hope?
Better than folk smoking dope!
If you have problems embarrassing,
Bring them here for my listening,
Sage advice I am providing,
Reflections I am heeding,
Yes, boys, beer understands,
How did dinosaurs make it in Pleistocene lands?
Answer: They didn't, for beer, no hands,
Yes, reflections I am heeding,
Humans are minute cosmic specks, spinning,
on a pebble in Outer Space, clinging,
If gravity didn't suck, we'd all be floating,
Reflections I am heeding,
As Robespierre shall keep reading,
Then Balzac shall be beading.......
COMPARE TOP TERM PLANS IN JUST 60 SEC!
I am the soul of all the Grecian Gods you have revered and penned
I know no matter what happens to you, you will come back to us in all ardency
The gods always test their worshippers, you know that, don't you?
You have made your home the temple of Jupiter. Very appreciative!
Now, move out of your blessed walls for a sterling holiday to Mount Olympus
You can't import an ancient religion into a completely different environment!
The whole point of it is that you keep your gods sweet and generous
- you scratch our backs, we will scratch yours to your hearts content!
High time you realised we establish a quid pro quo relationship
You have dared to make us only simple offerings of flowers, candles, incense sticks
Do you think titanic strengths can survive on such fancy stuff?
We the Greek Gods have a solemn protocol to suit our palates
You who have only slaughtered vegetables on your chopping board
Will watch and learn ritual sacrifice at the altar outside the temple
And then with your magic fingers in a jiffy overload our feasting tables
With an assorted array of the worlds best meaty cuisine and wine!
How could you just foolishly forget our hard taught lesson-
The way into hearts of the gods is through their stomachs?
The gods betray their anger that you have never ever attended their Summer Solstice
We the Greek Gods love romance, music, dance, sweet whispers on moonlit nights
Have you ever taken our breath away with a mesmerising song and sensual dance?
Come and beguile us in your skimpily robed flowers at Mount Olympus festival
Age is no barrier if you oblige to dance on a moonlit night,
Sybil won her youth from Apollo, you see? Why lose yours?
Compare our top term plans in 60 seconds-our final barter system with conditions-
We fulfil your desire for the topmost slot in your simmering soup contest!
You scratch our back, we scratch and scratch and scratch your fragrant flowery back!!
THE BEST DEAL! GOOD! THE DEAL IS FINAL!!
October28, 2015
Contest:Any poem#34 Contest
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
(Earlier contest
Oct. 9, 2015
Competition: You Want It Bad -Then Bribe Me
Sponsor: Casarah Nance)
--------***----
*wise Sybil crystal gazes
tracking fortune shaped by stars
magical readings drift by…
her veiled head surprised
for what has yet to happen,
in my moonstruck gaze she peeps
bound by heavenly crown’s glow…
message in my eyes
“aligned souls more strung by time
laughter at beach will flare bright
love enchants richer kinship…
forget his mood shifts!” *
© all rights reserved
--------------
Crystal Ball Contest Sponsored by Linda-Marie
Written by nette onclaud
Now, for Enter the Remembering Linda-Marie:
Tribute Poetry Contest/ Andrea Dietrich
The proverbial victim immortalized forever
Seeing Prince Charming when you gazed into his eyes, but, beyond your
delusion stood Satan himself fantasizing about how he was to devour your flesh.
Sibyl's true love for Dorian did not see deceit's nasty warnings.
Narcissistic Dorian could not be abated.
The torment of others didn't reach his conscience.
He craved only masturbation material for his wicked ego.
His evil heart overpowered all.
His sinister desires are all that ruminated through his diabolical mind
Loving Dorian only left Sibyl starving.
His heart was not capable of returning the undying devotion she felt for him.
He was no man.
Only a hollow shell, pretending to feel love while concealing his laughter for his
unsuspecting prey.
Loving Dorian only killed you.
He compromised your integrity
Stole your innocence
Taking from you what you could never retrieve
Just because he could
But, don't worry your pretty little head, Sibyl.
You will never be forgotten.
Especially by Sir Dorian Gray
Though I imagine that he would give anything to have a moment of peace from
the horrifying images of your tragic ending, for all eternity his thoughts will be
haunted by images of your ruby red blood, desperate cries and the contortion of
your dying body.
Sometimes he will think it is just a nightmare, but this is something from which
he will never wake.
He will pray for an ending to his torment, but his wish will never be granted.
Though ultimately Sibyl, you took your own life there is blood dripping from
Dorian's claws.
Evil must be punished like everyone else and that is the embodiment of Dorian
Gray's icy heart.
Now Dorian must cloak his own sins.
His evil soul destroyed himself and all those who had the misfortune to love him.
Though he salivated at the thought of his next conquest, time and time again,
Dorian's self hatred and inner demons engulfed him until he plunged into his
darkened abyss from which he will never escape.
His most unfortunate transgression of all was choosing to live a superficial
existence, choosing eternal youth and beauty over true love.
Sybil Vane was the only woman whose love was pure enough to rescue him.
Dorian will forever be tormented knowing that he obliterated his guardian angel,
the only one that could have saved him - from himself.
I'm checking the post daily
Can't tell you how exciting this is for me
Since I called the 1-800 number
From that mail order magazine
While one day sitting at the dentist
I picked up said magazine
A full page ad which made me gasp
A colorful array of personalities
I've never really had much of one on my own
So I ordered a couple dozen
Sitting here anxious for my order
And so far I've seen nothing
I'm wearing a path to the mailbox
It should have been here by now
When it does arrive I'm first taking out Impatient
Then placing a call to tell them about themselves
I hope I remembered to order one Romantic
Cause I'd sure like to impress Mary Lou
As it now stands I feel less a man
Around her I don't know what to say or do
Imagine my surprise when the box finally arrives!
I open it up with a slight giggle
Just like that the personalities fall into my lap
For a moment I felt just like Sybil
Lets see there's one that's Strong, one that's Flirty, one that's Shy, one that's Quirky
One that looks like it's Mighty Proud
A personality that's Fun, Debonair, a Serious one
All I know is I want to try them all out
These days when you see me around...AKA "The Man About Town"
The one that has the large following of friends
Everyone loves the tales that I tell, now that I tell them so well
The way I weave them from beginning to end
They all want to hang out with me, there's something special they see
Looks like I've come out of my shell
Now I don't think twice as I jump into life
Since things have been going so well
And all those personalities I own, I now leave those all home...
I keep the box locked high up on a shelf
I found the best personality I have is the one I was born with
And that people tend to like me for myself
As a lactose intolerant
cow whirring lion eye zing
dual (Banjo playing) Manichean
("FAKE") keen man womanizing,
faux nymphomaniac wannabe,
I cone only scream about visualizing
nip pulling and getting a breast
of Hani La (vanilla),
this sweltering unfreezing
Wednesday while mouth
watering chiefly hanker
for milch of
human kindness, which titillating
fanciful fandom fantasies
skinny dipping into soliloquizing
whet dreams har made
sadly, simply, and sorely realizing
test tickles quizzing
noggin merely figment
of fertile imagination pricking
prurient potent plentifully oozing
naughty salacious, licentious,
and felicitous evocations pulsating
hypnotically invoking
trance send dint overriding
gloriously flirtatious escapade needling
my over active
thought processes monopolizing
ability to focus attention trying
to compose joyous leavening,
sans jump starting
massaging, and kneading
dormant limp libido liberating
panting allied force,
which seems tubby
in axis Sybil for Nick -
A.Ting, thus Celeb Basie,
frantically, gingerly, and
haphazardly kickstarting
pussy riot with this feeble attempt
for a firm hut heave action,
one docile male member
devoid of livingsocial,
hence aye coon
sitter ring joining
a nunnery, which
would be habit chilly unfitting,
and very un convent
shin null for a poetic happy ending!
syllable
one two three
tap tap tap
clap clap clap
sybil
two
tap tap
clap clap
sib
one
tap
clap
I will be the princess of the dynasty
The princess of the corkscrew
The princess of the underwear drawer
There is a lot of laughter
Sybil does not understand the others.
She is not amused or laughing
She gets out her tarot cards and her runes.
Begins plotting the spells that will transmogrify the others
but I'm gettin' the goods on you
three faces of eve and sybil fade
when held to the light
of brilliant imagination
tender-heartedness
never fore imagined
shining soul shines into dumps of
stuff that soup's rules disallow
using words for.
ain't it strange?
This frail squint eyed woman
She wears the crown
She goes around town
Her hair matted and coiled
like entrails.
Pass her on
She’s your brother’s hand-me-downs.
This dark-skinned immigrant
from an old barren distant land
feeds on this town’s useless information.
She laughs so hard it stings.
She is simple and decisive.
“You will never learn a god damned thing”
“You are a sad song that played too long”
“I’m in demand…ask all your friends.”
“What a shameful game she played”
“Don’t you remember yesterday’s embers?”
“Show me your army..”
“Where do you go when no one’s watching you?”
“Wish I had another stab at your pale face”
“Whatever keeps you warm at night.”
This warm grainy palm
On the rusty banister
Is the grand vestibule to our small town.
BrookBrooke
[The Sybil]
i don't drink
she said
looking at
the red and
blue flashing
beer sign
mesmerised
still and small
on an ordinary
stool
spool
spool of thread
about
to fall
from
her
half hip
open
pocket
everything
that could
be said
she
already
knew