Best Wrested Poems
Seraphic, turbid waves in turgid waters; turning
Amid my spindrift Soul wherein loves tumult rages....
Crashing through this pulsing heart that knowingly craves her ~
Aneath these turquoise tides, which tear burnt pages?!
Washed upon the shore to feed the pyramids pyre
Torn from destined books carving ancient time....
Spirits chanting dreams while dancing in the fire
Captured by the flames of oranges burning; loves sublime ~
Sunrise, now gathering blue horizons to kiss the wrested nights
Waning heavens waving a million reflections left, glittering deep inside....
Astringent embers touching tranquility while as floating through the rougish sky
Seraphic, turbid waves in turgid waters still, only to subside!?
Torn from destined books carving ancient time; this
My own Aphrodite....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."My, Beautiful *Star Light" ~
To the tune of "Itsy Bitsy, Teenie Weenie, Yellow, Polka-Dot Bikini"
Dedicated to Nancy Pelosi
Chorus:
She has an itsy bitsy
Teenie weenie
Brain inside her little beanie
And she uses it infrequently
An itsy, bitsy
Teenie weenie brain
We get the heebie jeebies
Whenever Nancy's in our company
Two, three, four
Don’t stick around, head for the door
Nancy:
Oh, I pushed and I wrested for health care
But no one wanted this lame, inane fare
Still I managed to get it through Congress
The court may now say it was pointless
Two, three, four
Please don’t give us anymore
Chorus:
She has an itsy bitsy
Teenie weenie
Brain inside her little beanie
And she uses it infrequently
An itsy, bitsy
Teenie weenie brain
We get the heebie jeebies
Whenever Nancy's in our company
Nancy:
Some will tell you that my voice sounds too shrill
But House members have followed me still
Yet we have an election upcoming
From my muse all my members are running
Final Chorus:
From the Congress to her home state
From California to the streets
Of San Francisco you will find her
Oh so sad to lose her seat
UNWANTED VIOLIN SOLO
She wrested notes from unwilling
And resisting rosined string.
The rhythm struggled to assert control
Over her strained and anxious soul.
Mother shushed her resisting offspring,
Father struggled with his watch’s mainspring.
Children twisted hair and faces :
All wished to be in other places.
7 Ravens
In a terrible time of famine, war, pest and inquisition,
a master Wicca giving homeless boys a apprentice permission.
They had to maintain a household in an isolated place,
working very hard to earn some recognition to face.
Collecting woods, herbs and edibles to survive
building a garden, harvesting some fields to strive.
When the moon was new the master summonsed the boys,
teaching them the art of magic, using dark power like toys.
The very same power was keeping those young men imprisoned,
some tried to run away, but got lost and ended up same place wrested.
He turned them into ravens, spying on innocent prey,
and gave them that illusion of freedom that they can fly.
The deeds of darkness had its toll and innocent hearts rebel,
they could not take the viciousness by mental means able.
The Wicca promised them the virtue of ultimate power,
focusing only onto the abuse by tragic endower.
The ravens tried to work together against the masters will,
but could not fit his evil visions to conquer the needed bill.
In disguise of 7 Ravens they had to visited villages,
creating distractions for the dark master to take advantages.
One Raven got injured during some chaotic rage,
a maiden of gentle touch, nursed the captured creature in a cage.
Not knowing that a boy is in this disguise of a bird,
and the young man was in awe of all he heard.
She was talking about a charming prince she dreamed to meet,
giving her the stillness for the loving longing as a deed.
The raven recovered and the boy’s heart was enchanted,
flying back to the brothers and the master will granted.
He told his fellows about the beauty he is feeling,
and knew it is the way to conquer all fears and controlled stealing.
They decided to fly to those villages to find some maidens of charm,
exchanging bodies to create loving features with no harm.
Soon they hearts where all full of joy and virtues abilities,
much against the masters witching capabilities.
His own manipulation fell against him by circumstance,
leaving nothing left to do, giving those young men the advance.
They swore an ode, never to use the art of dark power,
living a life with the meaning of celebrated love in any hour.
Still hearing from time to time the voice of a Crow,
sounding like the croaking noise of…. nevermore, nevermore.
Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe
‘When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.’ - Lauren Eden
................................................
my pains depart not
even when my tear glands d r y
as sorrow remains my life’s most loyal friend
it bothers not to knock before drawing near
just since
I was wrested away from my mother’s breast
as she e x h a l e d
her last breath in creeping agony
two years after my father was jailed for life~
his crime
the same blood that now pulses within my veins
then....
hatred was s e w n
into a grim dress that h a u n t s
t o r m e n t i n g my nights and days,
never ceasing
my mouth
s t r i p p e d
as hunger cries pierced through my ribs
love~
a drifter who shuns my h o l l o w abode
yet sings with a l o u d voice in my friends’ homes
caressing
only when hatred
h i d e s a w a y
loitering in the streets,
refusing to
step
inside
my good friend~
when I smoke thick marijuana
draining strong gin bottles till nothing remains
when I sniff the white powder, chasing a trip
one that will carry me straight to my father
Just Hold Me
She:
Just hold me here close to your heart
Let me stay tranquil a while
This world has wrested my joy away
And has robbed me again of my smile
He:
I will hold you forever, part of my soul
To linger with me until time’s end
I will bring the joy back to your life
Your beautiful smile will transcend
She:
Just keep me here secure in your arms
Blissful and unaware of the strife
There are those around who wish me harm
Be Protector of my heart and life
He:
Forever I keep you safe in my arms
Within my soul you shall dwell
A refuge from the pain of the world
My love shield, your fear will dispel
She:
Calm and soothe me, please, cherish me
And in this haven, let me rest
There is sweetness that here abides
When I am pressed close to your chest
He:
In silent embrace our hearts are one
Find in me comfort and surcease of soul
My love shall buoy you through every storm
As our love the Angels extol
My dearest Enchantress thank you for allowing me to add my pen to your beautiful words. Your heart as always shows through what you write with your quill of gold.
all my love Shane ***
Sonnet from Memories - Episode 5
Shadow dance of distortion fade in and out
Teasing to the fore then get wrested back
Manipulative psychic games with subconscious
Like the sun rays flitting behind clouds of black
Memories of her's succumb to quiet whispers
Disappearing hope with each ponderous breath
Green eyes with sadness reflects in the mirror
Broken spirit recedes into shadowy death
Fading expectations with each passing hour
A life once had – Gone for no reasons
Day brings no enlightenment or answers
Night brings its own dreams and demons
Whispers that fade into lurking silhouettes
Seeming familiar faces slink back into regress
Sonnet from Memories - Episode 7
Who so ever says that - ‘tis better to have loved
And lost - than never to have loved at all’
Has expressed mere words off a flippant tongue
Has not seen a soul burn or tears of blood fall
Nor witnessed love that has appeared but once
Or Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and their tragic end
Nor perceived true love’s departure that burned like acid rain
Tennyson’s profound poetic words can never ever mend
A heart that has shattered in a million bits
No words of advice no matter how well meant
Can repair these damaged lungs that cry out for air
A plea for amnesia would doubtless be better sent
No measure of anaesthesia can this pain erase
Surrender to sweet amnesia this curse to replace
Video Clip - Guy Sebastian - ‘Amnesia’
Wrested from my writing by a drone
which signified that I was not alone
in its black and yellow jumper it had come
fat and furry, bigger than my thumb
it cruised around the room in lazy eights
before it worked itself into a state
against the window wings fizzed on the glass
as fruitlessly it struggled to get past
annoyed at every corner on inspection
too close to even see it's own reflection
the outside world all plainly in it's sight
but out of reach, no this cannot be right
it thought “the flowers in the garden I can see
but cannot fly to them- how can this bee?”
I pitied this paradox of aviation
for being in a desperate situation
it's compound eyes with panoramic view
blind to the neighbouring window it flew through.
“ I feel your pane” I told the frame inspector
too knackered now to gather any nectar
and went and fetched a beaker and some card
then scooped it up, released it in the yard.
We, too, in life in lazy circles go
until whatever circumstances throw
leaves us adrift, no chance of some release
we thrash round for solutions, have no peace
take on our problems close up, face to face
instead of stepping back and giving space
so we may then take in the wider view
the answer is nearby what we should do
so stop banging your head and then you'll see
you won't need glass and card.
Unlike the bee.
She:
Just hold me here close to your heart
Let me stay tranquil a while
This world has wrested my joy away
And has robbed me again of my smile
He:
I will hold you forever, part of my soul
To linger with me until time’s end
I will bring the joy back to your life
Your beautiful smile will transcend
She:
Just keep me here secure in your arms
Blissful and unaware of the strife
There are those around who wish me harm
Be Protector of my heart and life
He:
Forever I keep you safe in my arms
Within my soul you shall dwell
A refuge from the pain of the world
My love shield, your fear will dispel
She:
Calm and soothe me, please, cherish me
And in this haven, let me rest
There is sweetness that here abides
When I am pressed close to your chest
He:
In silent embrace our hearts are one
Find in me comfort and surcease of soul
My love shall buoy you through every storm
As our love the Angels extol
Written by Shane Cooper and Eileen Manassian
Thank you, Shane, for asking me to collaborate with you. I enjoyed it every much. I appreciate your support...Bless you, my dear.
Bozhidar Pangelov&Vania Konstantinova/In Memoriam/
Under the Coat of Arms
In Malta, in the ancient walls
is beating the sea so salty.
Somewhere behind,
distant,
hidden
are shining through southern almonds.
There is no moon.
The light is illuming
herself
in the pearl of your eyes.
Harmonious.
Without gunshots
of the squadrons by Lepanto.
The falcons on the coat of arms fall asleep,
never wanted,
in honor
and dignity.
Vania Konstantinova
Behind the Gates
Behind the gates
of Mdina I hide you,
far of any nemesis,
of foam and stretched sails.
Behind the towers of the castle.
In the most inner yard.
Under the spurts of the cascade,
more precious than silver.
Here they see only
the eyes of the peacocks,
whisked their tails
for cooling.
Keepers of the secret
with their tongues wrested.
And when your brush sculptures
the bracelet around my ankle,
reflected in Venetian mirror
like a trap –
I forget who you are and the sin
with head chopped off,
I forget about the death …
Vania Konstantinova was born, in Sofia. She graduated Classical Ballet in
her native town and in Petersburg as well as Polish Philology in Sofia University and
Jagiellonian University, Krakow. She's co-author of the poetic book Four Cycles (along
with Bozhidar Pangelov). Her collection of short stories Thank You Mister One is published
in autumn of 2008. Death 2015
http://www.public-republic.com/vania-konstantinova
The life is blooming slowly
at the white candles –
chestnut trees under my window.
In the sea angles the transparent cupolas
are rising –
dolphin tombs.
No, not for the first time
life is blooming in death,
by the eyes of the beauty
frozen by the jump…
A picture –
the wavy movement
of the brush, by the hand
wrested.
The Sea is dead.
*****************
This is a link that shows a dead dolphin with bullets from a vending machine in the Black Sea.
http://www.vchera.bg/synqt-na-edin-razstrelqn-delfin/
50 pounds in our sacks bowed our backs
until we heaved them up to the scale.
Ice water from milk cans hit parched throats
and sent us back to pack the farmer's bale.
The sun bore through our flimsy shirts
and scorched noses while freckles bulged.
Sharp prongs pricked our fingers and clutched
the cotton as we wrested it from dry bowls.
We prayed for clouds to lend sweet shade
or wind to dry the sweat and cool the brow
as we toiled down the long rows of cotton.
A rainy day brought only delay and the ache
in our stomachs begged for our pay,
though at three bucks a hundred, it was rotten.
Your sister was only two, and you were four—
two toddling squirts, mucking in the dirt,
who found joy in a great place to play.
While we tugged our load, you two shared
true fascination with a squat, fat toad.
“Where have all the flowers gone,” the poet wrote
A metaphor for those lost in a cruel war of late
Lives that were wrested from home and family
And thrown into a milieu of humiliation and hate
No real purpose for forfeiting their young lives
In conflict that obviously portended no good ending
But then, what war of that magnitude ever does? --
Is worth our young servicemen and women sending
To sacrifice their lives for some undefined honor
Is it patriotism to assert ourselves in a foreign affair
Methinks there are ulterior motives unexplained
That did not justify the loss of lives way over there.
written November 5, 2021
Spring winds blow their sound,
Winter now is bound.
Knees in,
Melted, sludgy-browned,
Green peaks through the ground.
These in,
Nature's own impound,
Exiled now, grave mound,
Squeeze in.
Snow tries to reason,
Get one last freeze in,
Surprise!
Vernal, yet weazen,
March smells a treason,
The lies!
Mad by degrees in,
Arrogant season,
Reign skies!
Hasten Cold's demise,
February spies,
Be drowned.
Viridescent eyes,
Vegetation rise,
Be gowned,
Prep and lionize,
Time yields yearly prize,
Be crowned!
(an All Poetry feat to walk in
the poetic feet of Robert Frost)
Bucolic New England, circa
Early twentieth century New England
awash with dynamic harmonic leisureliness,
when much of North America favored rustic
visual whirled wide webbed watercolor
waiting afield at dusk, the thrum
of nature all abuzz didst feed thine
dizzily green jovial mien
unlike mean Gary Lewis
veritable innocence and naiveté
rollicked with mine lanky frame
relishing ambling into my own quietude
an infinite breadth, length and scope
of infrequently trammeled near virgin
woodland paths grown over with brambles
nonetheless a faintly trussed harbinger
marked by weatherbeaten
for sale signposts
with here and there an abandoned plow
long since given over
to rust when the pasture
seasons elapsed since
farmer(s) left unharvested
fecund fields absent
the cloven hoof,
and deprived enrichment
manure, sans ungulates
ceased sufficing healthy
free ranging bovines,
where etudes punctuated
the terribly gross fresh air,
now no longer audibly quickening,
snapchatting, nor twittering
with the last word of a bluebird
deathly silence now 'cept
the wind in the willows
whispering woebegone laments
tree tops pining to cradle
idle youthful dreamers
boughs devoid of
psalm quivering romantic songstress
clattering debris merely
delivering echoed whooshing refrains
continually disintegrating among
in a disused graveyard
prescient ken aches with nostalgia
hallucinogenic nightmare slams
irrevocably shut the door in the dark
closed for good upon the onset,
wrought genocide against
the vanishing Red man,
a ghostly scarification meaningless ritual
wrested, removed, and highjacked
from indigenous peoples
without rhyme, nor reason
as fraternities no
longer pledge allegiance.