Best Ventricles Poems
An affection grown from pubescent soil, watered with innocent infatuation
Leaves of dreams gently budding, off naïve branches of a youth shortened.
The roots, ventricles of a choice-less heart, her fate twisted by a mothers hate.
No stopping nature’s fruition, and now the growth, the change, will not abate.
Her spring leaves, open and green, stretch brilliantly to reach the sunlight.
Her roots of youth still soft and warm, her sun remains golden and bright.
But his roots go far deeper than hers, once green leaves are already changing.
Growing stiff with age, as they reach deep into a sky that is steadily graying.
The years between them, once not so many, now shade her with their height.
She can’t stop the cold fear of abandonment, someday being left in his night.
Her heart wanders over the fruit, so delicately hanging off her branches.
Who will pick them up when they fall, when he is no longer there to catch them?
Will she watch his leaves flutter to the ground for years, while hers remain crisp?
When hers just begin to tinge with color, what will be the state of his?
Perhaps the soil of innocence should have been sated with more wisdom
So that she might have better acknowledged the future yet to come.
Never to know if it would have made any difference, not wishing it would be.
Just unable to fight the realization that her winter of life may be lonely.
Sixteen years were just another number then, seven years has changed the way she feels
Each year now deafens with its ring, creaking branches and wrinkled bark makes it real.
What will become of her in years to come, will she remain up on her hill alone
Mourning his once strong branches, solemnly tending all that he has sewn?
She imagines that this will be her fate; the acceptance is agony with a silent shout.
But she relishes the days she knows she has with love, because that is what life is about.
Lightning and thunder did clash
In ventricles within my heart
Vying whether to lash
At every part
That feels emotions
In hearts of dames
Whose love motions and portions
Laid claims
To the indifference my heart felt
When Hazel Fidelia ended our engagement
In July nineteen seventy seven to melt
The betrothal arrangement
I thought made in Heaven
Until my polychrome
World came undone
In a moment of total madness and sadness whose home
I ransacked painting all women black
Cos their kind acted irrationally in spirit
As Fidelia in a rubbish pack
Dumped the love writ
We’d so carefully crafted over several years spanning back to college
Days where I first spied the svelte gazelle
I desired in marriage
But of course a spell
Cast by an invisible hand
Made sure I ate humble pie
Of the most humiliating brand
Giving my heart no space to sigh as though I was condemned alive to die
Humiliated
Empty handed
Denunciated
Loveless landed
Fearing for the heart torn into
Whose emotional system though frail
Determined to go on without breaking into two
Or going off the love rail
Or separating body from mind
In a scenario thrown into disarray
Wondering if as legend has it love truly blind couldn’t find
Room in my aching heart to shine a beam of limpid light without further delay.
when Medusa feathers
of midnight fractals
dip in my soul
and smear
soft hemlock stardust
across the
celestial ceiling ~
smothered with spinel
my shadow seethes
in the scent
of flaming jasmines ~
as I slip
a n d trip ~
drunk upon opium,
cruising in
cursed ventricles,
and pleading
for the release
of my muse ~
perfumed with
pensive passion,
that burns in the
chamomile craters,
courageous
yet clawed
by the cowardice
of your corvid
cruelties …
this heart is a hostage
held in the heat
of hypocrisy ~
hypnotised to the hues
of your heather hush,
tamed to obey
the time-travelling tunes
of the sun and the moon,
who impersonate
the aura of aurelia
yet, breathe the blush
of bitter-silk butterflies ~
illuminated within
the ivory incandescence
of my inkless innocence …
but, still I am immune
to your illusions ,
as I am nevermore ~
an oasis-rose ash
plucked from the
desert of oblivion,
desperate to deem
this desire my own,
before I stretch
these hands of hurt
and block
the periwinkle
pulsations ~
flowing
in the arteries of
arrhythmic
attachment …
You cannot tell me that you love me
While your arms speak elasticity’s whisper
Upon another
You cannot tell me that you need me
When your greatest dependency
Rests on cracked, concave mirrors
Don’t tell me
That you miss our pendulums
Swaying unto volcanic lust
That our lava laced finger strokes
Will mean a call from you tomorrow
Tell me your vendetta’s lie
Wasn’t meant to scar these ventricles
Yearning for my accent
To devour
You
Whole
Whole
Hold our winds towards creative differences,
Telling me how we are the same
How we are
One
One in a million of delectable fibs
Your textured lips annunciate a mineral silence,
Louder than love
Oh, how I heard you clearly through foggy facades.
For I am an unspoken error,
Awaiting
You
Lie,
Returned
©Drake J. Eszes
The young generation, who believe in dissolution,
promulgating the manifesto
“tradition is the grave of the banality,
only solecism is the quickening of new life…”
yell upholding a flag similar to a bad check
which is unable to secure the needed guarantee for the debt.
They are sycophantic speculators hopping on the bandwagon
of the time, they are nothing but a product of a certain moment
of the swinging pendulum, their unfounded thought changes in consonance with the direction and the amplitude of the pendulum.
Although they think highly of themselves,
they assert themselves as the forerunner of the times,
actually, they are unbridled reckless colts jumping, hopping,
and running blindly in the wilderness.
They consider heteronomy as a shackle,
they, therefore, rush to a smithy and heat the shackles to cut it off,
they insist upon autonomy as the beat of the heart,
they, therefore, lay on the cold operating table to cut it open
to see the inside of the heart bearing an excruciating pain
but they found it full of red and blue blood
clotted in two atrium and two ventricles, the blood
contaminated with filthy and turbid human minds
which carried on from generations of generations
of past unchanged.
They try to ascend their thoughts, nonetheless,
above the traditional ones, it’s nothing more than
a word game, a disgusting prank.
Are they mad? Though they cannot even jump
nor have wings, they try to fly,
ah, poor generation, ill, crooked, lost,
who were not even touched by a drop of Medusa’s
poisonous blood, flap wings imitating Pegasus about to fly.
I'm boring through your ventricles
I'm being terribly invasive
My quiet warm breath
Keeping measure and pace
To such meticulous work
Fills your four chambers
You don't feel one thing
You feel everything
So close, so intimate
My eyelids flutter against your tricuspid valve
My whole body is fluttering now
Because now
With my lips brushing against your aortic rigatoni
I am swimming inside your deepest being
Your heavy pumping heat
My legs now dangling out of your pulmonary noodle
I've become miniscule in this glorious museum
That keeps you alive
Forgive my exit now, my darling,
This time in your heart has changed me
You are the force which wobbles this reckoning world
This I realize
Miraculously sliding up
Your superior vena cava
*Matthew Caliri
Water, in a protein sense,
salt and other substances,
make up plasma, which, in kind,
account for half of blood's design.
A mammal's blood is red and bright,
-from oxygen, when mixed inside.
Because of an iron-filled kind of protein,
Hemoglobin, it's red and glowing.
Red and white cells fill the half,
oxygen rides in small red rafts.
Compared to white, the reds are many,
born from marrow, good and plenty.
Blood supplies glucose and acids,
while carbon dioxide wastes are banished.
Coagulation is the body's repair,
as hormones message when damage is there.
It regulates the body heat,
hydro-mechanics, just like a machine.
Blood makes 7% of your weight,
red cells live 120 days.
The white cells clot the blood on site,
they help by killing parasites.
White cells come in different types,
some kill bacteria, and fungi,
allergic reactions, virus cells,
tumors, pathogens as well.
If only we could go within,
to see a white cell's origin.
We could show our gratitude,
for those that keep us strong like new.
Our health is their only mission,
their ranks are in the immune system.
The heart drives blood throughout the body,
from the ventricles, to the arteries.
-Back to the heart and through the veins,
ventricle, artery, lungs, you could say,
the blood travels far, and this would be truth,
it takes 30 seconds to complete it's route.
Oxygen brought in must be spread around,
While carbon dioxide is what's carried out.
The vein is a valve containing the waste,
which is pushed with help from muscles in legs.
Arteries branch out as smaller roads called,
Capillaries, just one cell thick is their wall.
The blood must be slowed to allow the breakdown,
of substances, nutrients, eat up the chow!
Blood is classified in 200 groups,
you inherit whichever your parents gave you.
The most common kinds are "A" "B" and "O",
Some have "A" or "B", and some people have both.
It's important to know, should you need more blood,
a bad combination will make it clot up.
Blood brings to life almost every creature,
-we could not be without, those...5...liters.
There are frozen furrows in the Earth where
the plow made love to Terra.
It looks so pitiful in the dead of winter, with
no vegetable detritus on the ground to attest to any
kind of harvest.
For control over the forces of nature,
many have struck a blade into the earth and ruptured her
trust in spring. They say that when your cart is full of corn, it
is easy to counsel frugality to your neighbors.
This would have been a killing field, had the seeds been planted.
Had control been granted.
But it is icy.
Here the weak sun is rising to cast its pall light
on the scape where the would-be prometheus collapsed,
and his ventricles ceased to allow his defiance of the
Gods.
In the palm of your hand
My heart you will find
Pulsating deep crimson red
Lean in closer and you will find
Tissue damage
From all the times
That my heart has been cracked
Trampled
Dropped
Tossed
Forgotten
Ripped
But you can see too
Where my heart has tried to heal
Wounds are no longer there
But dreadful scars remain
The resounding beating
Pumping life
Doesn’t beat steadily
Because in the palm of your hand
You hold my heart
Fear and security
Love and animosity
Sorrow and elation
All reside in my heart
When you leave your hand open
Leaving my heart
Vulnerable
Exposed
When you are thoughtless with it
Fear flows through the ventricles
Making my heart
Violently pound
Sudden
Rapid
Beating
After near exhaustion
After near cardiac arrest
Of trying to beat out life
Your hand starts to close
Your fingers curly around
My now weakened heart
Enclosing
Clasping
Protecting
My heart from destruction
From falling out of your hand
My pulse starts to slow down
The quakes of the beating subside
My heart relaxes
No longer fighting so hard
To merely stay alive
You can see the muscle
Contracting with ease
Steady
Certain
Precise
Then a ray of light
Shines through
As you start to loosen your grip
And your fingers begin to retract
See over time
A heart will grow weak
Unable to sustain
Continued damage
It will no longer beat
That is the power
That you hold
In the palm of your hand
Oh foolish lover’s rhapsody within a wounded chest
I feel the arms wound tightly where I’d lay my head to rest,
Ripped from limb wide open thrust into a covered door
Latched in place and time erased knees hit the hardened floor,
Cold dank door that leads to light but shelters such intrusion
Frozen etching window panes lead towards the shore
That bounds with waves of discontent and obvious delusion,
To believe such eyes that breathe and hit me with a strike of poison
An anecdote to ease the rush through coursing veins illusions,
Played so with bow upon my heartstrings need
Wounded chambers ventricles heave from wretched scenes,
Rewind, recall, rehearse again in eerie perfect rhythm
How could one be what their not a perfect cut division,
As if an identical twin of two split right down the middle
Feast upon the wounded heart like some sort of kibble,
Dreams that you will hold me close and stop the heart that bleeds.
Passion overtakes somehow becomes a raw obsession
leaving me to drown in my own shame and selfish needs
Feel the signal sent to you upon the wind's inflection
Forever softly echoed on my heart the sad refrain.
What is your temperature?
The doctor asked
During an ordinary visit.
I left the examining room
And walked through
My palace
Skin and hair
Nails and tissue,
75 years of growth.
Ivy wild
as a Venus flytrap
Snaring an insect.
Tendrils curl and cover
Cages of ribs
Prisons of my own making,
Arid and Dry.
Soothing rain
Falls from mouth and nose
With nowhere to go,
Pores clogged
With regret.
Breath shallow
In and out
In and out.
No escape.
Chest
Rising and falling,
Rising and falling.
Dry air moving
Dry air moving
Over parted lips.
Teeth clenching
Unclenching
Teeth clenching
Unclenching.
“Temperature is normal.”
I respond.
I return the next day
Where is your pain?
The doctor asks.
I reenter my
Pulsing, beating, breathing
Palace.
A child moves further
Away on the bed
From an adult’s
Meandering hand.
The hand disappears.
The touch remains.
Blood pressure rises
Breathing becomes shallow.
Fatigued,
I relax
By aqua blue
pools of bliss.
75 years of blessings
Fill once arid spaces.
Adventures daringly dreamed
by a South Chicago kid,
Raised by parents
of the Second World War
“Roosevelt knew the
Japs were coming.”
He did nothing
To stop it.”
A ticky tacky house
By the tracks
Is our Gardens of Babylon.
I say good-night
To the whistling roar
Of a mighty steam engine
Ever so lightly
Shaking my foundation.
I return the next day.
Cheered by
Yesterday’s excavation.
I meet Seven Brides
Carrying oil lamps.
Their light
brightens once-dark corners.
Castle-like ventricles
Arch into stairways
Leading to
Magnificent towers.
Pink, baby skin
Warms a Mother’s heart.
Three children grown,
Now parents.
Six grandchildren,
Hardly children.
I look closer.
The pain evaporates.
Geysers of Gratitude,
Mist fills deserts.
Orchids of pink
Violet and gold.
Bright Pink Flamingoes circle
Capture and close.
Childhood scars,
Covered by mossy
Sponges, soak up old anger,
Vacuuming the shame
Of innocence.
I know now
Why the ivy
Meanders, clings and binds
To new cells
And old bones.
Its tendrils give
Eternal life.
Evergreen,
It breathes
Forgiveness
Fidelity and constancy.
It’s unfortunate that we are living past the age of romanticism. It’s as if in our busy lives we don’t have time to make time to let moments intertwine. We are workaholics and hedonist who forgot to appreciate that love exists.
We are a couple decades over the time where the hearts use to frequently blossom and more than passion was the outcome. Instead we pay more attention to Hollywood heartbreaks and gossip. Stories of lust and mistrust that give love a bad name. Soap-opera clichés where to apply the word 'cliché' would be cliché.
When it comes to affection our conscience are unconscious. The mind's treachery leading to heart's lechery are the components of nonsense that leave the soul no longer autonomous .
Then there’s the other side of the story of those who look for glory, trying to find congruent atriums and ventricles.
Those lonely individuals whose only finds happen to be asymmetrical.
Those that live for love, those that lust love and can’t ignore it, also those who die for it.
It’s that common misconception that their next lover will be their last.
It’s the repetitive mistakes that made their next lover the same as their last.
It’s the entangled bonds between two roses that are divine. We comprehend not that we are diatoms in Diotima’s explanation of a love story.
There’s no acknowledgement of platonic love.
No demonstration of admiration for the family unit, friends and all the experiences we undergo.
It’s out of resource and need that Eros grows.
A gardener should be there to watch their seed grow.
It’s out of love that we should plant our rose.
COUNTERFEIT LOVE
By Madalitso Jasper Mwaungulu
Painless emotions display the hurt in my butt
My eyes twinkle like little stars
As the watery flow shine out
Reflecting the captive freedom you put me into
I am a free prisoner of love
Pushed by your selfish desires
Abandoned by your royal lowness
My life somersaulted out of the league
Everything I knew changed
Everything I understood became oblivion
My intellect masked by your smiling tender-hearted face
I now understand that even the strongest hearts melts
They cry, they break, they harden, they soften and they forgive
But they never forget
How can they forget?
How can they see when the mist of your deception
Engulfs their perception?
Eagles cry deep in the sky
While hovering over naked smiles
Happiness of young hearts snatched
And onto the rock of Saturn smashed
When selfish ambitions walks pompously in
The corridors of their little love hearts
Proclaiming fear in their ventricles
Their pure first love you snatched
Now they can’t love anymore because
You vanished
They counted their joy in you
Gained their strength
And admonished their girth
Disappointingly, they’re broken
And they can’t be mended
Even glue a vague adhesive to bend.
They cry, they bleat, they moan, they whine, they whimper and they wail
Not because they choose to
Or forced to
But because they’re used to
As their minds dredge up the joy your presence caused
Searching and scouring for your return
Your humble entry back into their hearts
Not to mend but to build them again
To say the truth
They don’t smile anymore
But they are drenched in fear
When they see your resemblance
They don’t smile because you took their smile
Together with you when you left
You took their peace
And they live in fear
Not fear of whom or what or where
But fear of you
And I only realize
That your love was only counterfeit
The thoughts of those moved by natural
human love are almost completely fastened
on the beloved, their hearts are filled with passion
for it, and their mouths full of its praises
Saint Francis de Sales
BELOVED
Offer love, the interpretation
stimulating the tongue - to be
loved, in love…or not to be
Greek agapetoi, the greatest
highest pinnacle of love -
a wedding introduction:
Dearly beloved…close
to the heart - a heart
that is open to receive
eternity in its ventricles,
superflow red, pure
poetic shine to the face
Beloved, to be so loved,
willing to climb a cathedral-train -
a gown, Rapunzel’s braid
The tower we seek
in the heavenlies,
bedecked with pearls
and handsome jewels,
not treacherous nor
inhabited by a witch
but along the straight
and narrow way, loft
of purity and freedom
King David, even the boy
shepherd, chased after
the heart of God
Romans says, we
are loved by God; we are
his beloved saints
Our tongues sweetly
sing, lifting up the veil,
kissing the dove,
soaring to heights
that lift the heart
from the chest, breathless
A lifetime to cherish
that peach or plum -
to pinch yourself
…so loved
1/29/2023
Writing Challenge - B Word
Sponsor: Constance La France
Written in my heart
Is my love for you.
The story began once
We shared moments of intimacy.
The feeling of magic
Began in my heart.
The love that you placed in my life! Written in my Heart is
Essential thoughts
That feed my soul.
You are a cherished memory
In my heart!
You are quite magnificent!
Just the thought of you
Ignites fire in my Soul!
Knowing that you are just there,
sends security and safety in my life!
That's what is written in my Heart!
No eraser can erase
Or fade you in my heart!
You were stuck in my ventricles
And you are my future blood sustainer.
You are a book in my heart
Where you were given a page
So as to write thyself and
Other of what you want.
Gazetteer you're to my heart,
Glistening Gem you're in my heart,
Gleed knowledge you're to my heart!
What totters my mind is that
Let me discern your likes.
Whenever your lustrous teeth
Gleam beside my mind, I used to
Love and cherish all my dislikes.
I used to chuck beyond the
Clouds levels of network that
Delivers my fax.
It's not a blasphem if I compel
Anyone who sights you to
Pay a tax.
Don't vamoose me in a
Bloody meditatings that
will lead me to long bad things.
My lock, my key; my run, my stop.
You were written in my blood
Chamber with scalding ink.