Best Thereupon Poems
Part 3: AT HEAVEN’S GATES
To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.
To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.
The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.
Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.
A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.
Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
They split and chose divergent ways.
I wondered where their love had gone.
There was no sign of passing phase;
They split and chose divergent ways
As embers died after the blaze
Turning to ashes. Thereupon,
They split and chose divergent ways.
I wondered where their love had gone.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Triolet Poetry Contest
Hosted by Kim Merryman
Placed 1st
© 23rd May 2021
| So I dance for you |
Awaiting I'm fixating upon my breath, becoming translucent between the day,
If I could only reach those sea of stars that light.
But, why each twilight passes you promise to stay?
Thereupon, keep me hidden under your night.
But, under the solitude scorching rays, I'm burning.
I ricochet along the ocean mist, but I'm descending.
So, I turn to your dark, still yearning.
Lost without your touch, with the winds weeping whispers, I perdure bending.
Our symphonic souls sensually skim between dusk.
Every phase you show me, I'll face.
Your cataclysmic craters secure me deep with trust.
Our sweet starbound surroundings embrace, I long to taste.
You watch me from a distance as I dance.
Moving with each beat of your cool moonlight, in a trance.
To define innocence in the
countenance of a child's smile
and love's eminence in wildflowers,
conceive infinity in exalted ocean's roar
whilst summer breezes glance splendor
flourishing jasmine and hummingbirds
amidst evermore expansive sunrises,
whence space and time ceases to exist
thereupon shall enlightenment dwell
The hour matters none ... for the energies have exhausted.
In the year of our Lord ... nineteen hundred and twelve, April fifteenth.
Writes a future living star ... wish their joys so he may shine.
'Tis to be a deliberate endeavor ... they call life.
An unaccountable ledger of sums ... know he the worth of it.
For in that great beyond is an opened book ... ere his youth.
There'd be certain measures that wretched body ... once unmasked.
Natures of a retired validity ... that aloof vainglory.
Tarries an elusive shell ... the semblance of human sorts.
A cub sponged in denizens hound ... the spoils of settled earth.
Masques of the poor scores yon ... and indifference spared them from their kind.
Their pain slices him whole ... in this grand finale of truth.
The role he crawl from under ... frees a den's claimed orphaned cub.
He conformed to their ways ... indulgence begets an awakening.
De-sands a timepiece from Giza ... transforms the silent lamb.
Qualities of Osiris ... no longer foxes kinsman.
Without manipulative truth ... mainly defines reality.
Loss crept e'er so close ... as circumstances affront him now.
The iniquities ... recorded in that hallowed ledger,
He lay claim to its authenticity ... 'twas him who'd inflicted;
upon those who were of wickedness ... and the righteous few.
He included self ... in self-afflictions of great numbers,
wherever the blame may lie ... be it concerning his existence,
thereupon points those sharpened fingers ... deserving of it.
Repentance for his sins ... subjugated through crying eyes.
His life for another ... sans a name or a face in lieu of tears.
They shared the deafening silence ... two muted distinct smiles.
One in tears looked onward ... to a face of blessed assurance.
The last boat edges off into the dark ... desperation arose.
A great clamoring ascends ... into the bitter abyss.
The hymn, "Nearer My God to Thee," ... the chaos stops to song.
Ships officer calls out, ... "Abandon ship, every man for themselves."
Lost lamb hopes his roll's called up yonder ... as his last words read ...
Twenty six today, I saw
the luminous silver moon
make it's way through
the familiar sky that
bends above my head.
Each day I grew enthusiastic
and more credulous about
what lies ahead;
Waiting and hoping to remain
content with the one wish
granted.
And thereupon, a shooting star
In it's enthralling spectacle
A fallen seraphim with
broken wings crowding
my innocence upon
that fading star
Making a wish
To blow it away
into smouldering incense
of a new age.
For the first time entered I into
this place.
Bright and beautiful,
everywhere palace.
Awe, shock, amazement took
my face.
Caught in wishful thoughts, I
forgot the essays
On the whys and analysis my
family and I face.
The baggage of problems
being head I came to erase.
Hustle closed where I was,
trapped in dying days.
Thereupon my mind pushed
me to find ways
In the city because of tales we
hear when gathered at the
fireplace.
They say here is where the
money is.
Want strength and
determination to cure my
family diseases
Poverty and illiteracy. Out I
want them race.
Hunger will kill them in 3
months because I watch like x-
rays.
"only come back when u make
it", in my ear my wife's voice
sways.
>>1111>>Knocking on your dreams door>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<
date written: 11.23.2015
When the Moon moves between the Earth and Sun
then comes a rare happening that can stun,
above all a syzygy alliance,
the term from the Greek in astro-science.
Once solar eclipses in history
were viewed as a frightening mystery.
Cultural superstitions abounded
as rumors spread far and wide unfounded.
Many imagined the light was devoured
by dragons or beasts super empowered.
Herodotus wrote of one that brought peace
and made warring factions their battle cease.
The Chinese of old took drastic measures
against stargazers for drunken pleasures
that altered their senses though being skilled;
hence they failed in prediction and were killed.
A poem was penned to commemorate
the court officials’ miserable fate,
which stated, ‘though sad, it was risible
that they could not spy the invisible’.
The death of England’s King Henry the first
prompted the notion of omens accursed
for rulers; ‘twas just after one had passed
described as that “hideous darkness” vast.
There are tales and legends to tell galore.
But later on, researchers learned much more.
Curiously, helium was revealed
because of our star’s disk being concealed.
Yet the one that is “most important” called,
made Einstein famous, and left him enthralled,
was the shadowing of nineteen nineteen
when theory entered the proven scene.
Eddington relativity tested—
which to this day has never been bested
as general cosmic model supreme—
showing warped spacetime through bent starlight scheme.
In the total umbra it’s black as night
till the exiting shroud sets the Sol right.
At starting and finish as it proceeds
occurs the spectacle of Baily’s beads
with a ‘diamond ring’ that’s an extra boon
resulting from the terrain of the moon;
thereupon that stellar phenomenon
is gone, though its memory lingers on.
Thus, solar eclipses provide a chance
to astronomical knowledge advance
as well as to witness a great event,
one that is literally heaven-sent!
Then it’s back to our grinds and muddled minds
wherever our personal path unwinds…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Poem composed for the occasion of the total solar eclipse on Monday, August 21,2017…
Fallen upon knees in ashes of pipe dreamer’s infatuation
chimera's collective stardust reigning through macrocosms,
world spins counterclockwise unrealistically bound hiatus
stained glass mirrors fracture in rhetorical opposition,
earthly beings condensed to mere commonplace residue
threadbare allegiances written on worn out constitutions,
idly spinning cogwheels from premier breath to closer exhale
angels hark intensely attempting to assuage inevitability
whilst calm winds yield to maelstroms' imitative gesticulations
forfeitures of human activity sacrificed in sins' germinal vices
banal platitudes reinforcing an elusively unoriginal existence,
dancing 'round the fire tween inquisitions' reluctant commendations
preparedness on conventional suspension of ill-advised reiterations,
awaiting surrender 'neath an incoherent vigil's unorthodox rite of
incarnate passages' disconnected resolve mid consequential rationale
thereupon...
timelessness is but a variable symbol
factored in mankind's hallucinatory prayers
When you find that special someone
who heartily & unconditionally
enraptures each second of every day,
makes life appear to be tangible liquid poetry
fantasies realize reality's passionateness,
thereupon adoringly kisses darkly euphoric
toffee eyes midst unveiling wildflowers,
whilst lavishing lush keepsake daisies
'tween unfurled silken tresses,
never take a moment for granted
such exquisite reveries are far and few,
soaring amongst boundlessness of
cosmoses' inconceivable flourish
A cluttered barbershop in my old hometown I fondly call to mind,
Was a gathering place to loaf and socialize, a great place to unwind!
Harry, the barber, kept farmers, the local rabble and boys like me,
Looking right smart, clipping hair and shaving necks for a two-bit fee!
Outside, as raging winter storms amassed piles of drifting snow,
The old pot-bellied stove radiated warmth setting hearts aglow!
The shop rang with debates about politics and the charms of local females.
Hiding behind a comic book I learned some mighty intriguing details!
Harry's shop had just one old wrought-iron footrest barber's chair.
Thereupon hung a strop with which he honed razors with flair.
In a cream-colored cabinet, Harry stored the tools of his trade;
Brushes, straight razors, shaving cups and pungent oils of pomade!
Wall posters depicted sports figures and women scantily clad,
Also, ads for Vitalis, Brylcreem and other concoctions to be had.
In the back was a room where ne'er-do-wells usually hung around,
Enjoying a smoke or playing checkers - fellowship would abound!
Adding to the cozy setting was Harry's inscrutable cat.
No one dared move him from the chair where he always sat!
Harry and his quaint barbershop are now forever gone,
But to the memory of those simpler times I will e'er be drawn!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Accidentally chanced upon
While browsing through a set of tomes
An unrequited love poem
Marked between the yellowed pages
Within a volume rifled through.
Thereupon, I eagerly read
The words in Edwardian script
Predated nineteen hundred six-
A sad age of class distinction-
Where lines describe a futile love
Of two unfortunates in love
The beau from high society
His belle of notoriety
The aging ink was droplet smeared
I want to think it was from tears.
A mere civil clerk, in his fifties; tall and bent,
Leading a calm life, with none any argument;
Albert Camus, in his well-known novel, the Plague,
Makes Joseph Grand, hero; though, visibly, seems vague...!
He could not succeed earning a decent income,
His conflicts with his wife, he could not overcome;
Thought of inconsequential nature filled his head,
Much were his complexes; he could not go-ahead...!
Strange plague breaks out in the tranquil town of Oran.
Brings great glories to degradation thereupon;
Not paying much thought to these, Joseph just exists,
Musing on his writing, un-begun, he turns; twists...!
When floods of plight start flowing above neck-level,
And smells of plague turn into scents of death-devil;
When kith of dead start rushing to register names,
Grand feels the zeitgeist as though moving toward flames...!
Foreseeing, with common sense, events that could dawn,
Joseph involves; and strategically moves on;
He maintains perfect records of the affected,
Service of doctors, hence, proceeds as they expected...!
He falls victim in this process of his service,
He recovers; though bodily weak, not nervous;
It does, no doubt, owe his stupendous faithfulness,
Oran, in its curing process, gains great progress...!
Though, till then, Joseph Grand thought his worth was nothing (?)
He understood, even a cog, means everything;
This thought, though did not create in him egotism,
No doubt, had sown in him, good seeds of altruism...!!!
26 April 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Enter Contest
He was born with a bushy round follicle-free head
and walks with two legs, because
he is a Neanderthal(1) mutant,
for he is a mutational product,
he is an android(2) not found in the evolutionary tree,
and that’s why he was so sad; he began to roam the surface
of the earth, he climbed up the mountains, crossed the rivers
and traveled over the expansion of fields beyond the horizon;
to soothe the sorrow of being alien
he labored to find another android similar to him;
and if he finds one, he is forced to lay her down on the ground
and sow the seeds to establish a new genealogical table;
the seeds grown to Hominidae.(3)
As time goes by his hair on his head became thinner
because the roots of his hair decayed from no follicle
and at last, he became bald;
each time a sun-ray reflects on his head
his anguish grows in the valley of misery he is trapped in
and leading his poor life. He escapes from the valley and crawls
into a cave(4) peculiar from all the other caves he’d seen so far,
and he fixed a flag.
As the wind rises the flag streams,
when the flag flutters the sky roars to pierce the ears;
then the sky falls to the ground from a gap between
the roars gushing out ashes and fires. The fire heats
to burn the stones lying here and there by the water’s edge.
When sky, earth, fire and the stones intermingled in one
it tortures the Neanderthal with the red-hot iron of death,
then, *****Sapience survived from breathing the oxygen
that Neanderthal left behind; and as day grows taller and taller
*****Sapience finds the way to preserve oxygen;
thereupon, Hominidae mixes this excess oxygen to produce
black powder with the ratio of 10KNO3 + 3S + 8C,
and stuff it into a bamboo-tube;
tomorrow therefore explodes, time stops,
the sea swallows the earth. As things come this far,
though there may be worse things waiting in the future,
the crippled time, comes with quick steps winding a malfunctioning clock.
NOTE: 1. *****Neanderthalensis and *****Sapience are different *****species, therefore, though *****Sapience Sapience is not a mutated species, but just so regarded in this poem.. 2. Android: in this poem this phrase is synonymous to synthetic organism rather than electro/mechanical robot. 3. Hominidae: this term is used as existing modern Human. 4. Francis Bacon, Idra Specus.