Bibelot
When — ever I peep into my heart
Who frightens me with Ego Skirt
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Awakens me to vitalize mine passions
Slowly, slowly assembles the new relations
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Sense then rings the facts bell
Gain my vine which I sell
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
Shed your blood for humanity strong
Sacrify thine self for lasting long
Humbly, humbly whispers in me
Catch the Bibelot, seeing in me
all device features are described in the manual,
but we are still unruly in the streets,
I needed to know a lot more about fractions
that hide between the numbers one and two,
measure the exact extent of each shadow in the sky of life
and really understand why we are lost here,
shopping endlessly in the bazaars,
acquiring picturesque items
to decorate the porch of our posterity,
as if we foresaw our descendants and,
wanting to impress them,
we would put an elephant bibelot on the sideboard of pain,
a postmodern armchair next to the stairs for nothing
and further back,
the opaque mirror of our confused, painful,
almost unnecessary existence.
Odorless flower,
it's not a flower to scent,
plastic bibelot..
Hent my heart from wandering concepts of affection.
Recant the murmurs of insecurity that riddled my temple.
Like a slow wound toy awaiting release from a child's grasp and attention.
Toss and birl, whipsawed into the oblivion of life's gamble.
Take away this wretched knife in my side.
A knife that twist with every incantation.
Those bastards! Jackanapes! Stirring in the tides.
Exordium! When I appear to disappear. Insouciance!
This tires me into a gaumless breathing, beating whole.
Furl all I can, these product of fallibility and madcap.
As I breathe deep into a bibelot diamond. The centre of my soul,
I feel the urge to plotz from reminders and blankets.
As I indite a subtle line of assurance. I contrived.
Culling into materials and conversations. I quelled.
Forgoing this disposition. Finally, Peace has arrived.
Retribution in it full essence. Salient though dishevelled.
Go home, old man, turn to your bed
and draw the covers to your eyes;
there is no papa in the skies
to hear your prayers,
were you to dare to frame them.
No spirit hovering?...to flood your mind
with golden streets? No harps
employed by pretty messengers
with sunbeam hair?...no enemies
to tread beneath your feet?
Go home.
Our censers do not swing for you;
our choristers sing out of tune,
our crowns, bereft of stars,
are tawdry bibelot
to weigh you down. Ironically,
your heaven just passed you by
and left your saving Lord to die
alone.
All you have left is the unknown,
a bit of awe, perhaps,
a sense of mystery
and cries to an eternity of silence
unaware that you are even there.
Your peace, your rest
is not in sacrifice or penitence
but listening, never mindful
of reply.
Old fellow, what have you to say?
"My children, how I wish
that you might understand
that I am merely blessed--
despite my failure to express
the swirl of the ineffable
around my head...confounded
only by an adversary,
too hard pressed
to speak of anything
but love."
~
(just posting today. I am running like crazy
trying to get Christmas projects done! But I hope
to be here tonight to read poems! OH, and to understand'
this sonnet more fully, you need to know what
"Bibelot" needs. An intereseting word I learned
when I took the challenge to use that word in a poem!
If you really want to know the word, you'll have to
look it up or ask me!!) Luv, Andrea
The Bibelot
There never could have been a Christmas better-
that first one spent alone near firelight.
She gave him some cologne; a blue wool sweater
to match the hue his eyes shone with delight.
He tore the tissues red and green, and she
more delicately opened with a thrill
each gift he’d tied with ribbon clumsily.
And then he held one out, and she grew still,
for it was small, which had to mean one thing. . .
it had to be the best he’d saved for last!
She held her breath. Oh, could it be a ring?
The glitter of its gems was unsurpassed.
Each stone adorned an object most exquisite.
She looked it up and down; then asked, “What is it?”
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