We surge the same heart-tube
Brother and Sister Corpuscles
Of poetry -- Scarlet!~ Emboldened! Coursing!
Clotless, no mere composing cholesterols of Time.
Immortal such fluid spirit never doubt
The muse pulsed us in and sacred throb
Will let us about – God judges poets not.
Blame it on the Muse!
Such lie Heaven will overlook.
Next to the ledger, I am certain
Also fondly abides~ a fine verse book!
THE MIRRORED MUSE OF THE MIRROR MAN
Golden threads upon his headgear crown,
White attire as robes flowing, drifting down.
Against a canvas red, his spirit shines,
A thousand faces, splintered across places, one design.4
A regal calm, with no alarm, a timeless grace,
Yet fractured mirrors, cracked interiors, frame his face.6
Echo, echo, shards of lintel light,
Fragments dancing in the night.
Each shard a story, each glance a flame,
Whispers of God's glory, echoes of name.¹°
Every mirror sync with my life's aim,
Every rhythm fans my fervent flame.¹²
Step by step, the story sways,
Tradition emboldened in woven ways.
Pride and honour, bold and true,
Reflected skies of crimson hue.¹6
By experience woven, pride adorned,
A spirit unbroken, richly worn.¹8
And in the silence, still and grand,
History and future carried in his hand.
I am one soul, yet many visions span,
A man of dexterity and posterity, borne of woman.²²
I'm one who's not just reflected in fragments
But carried into history & beyond forever radiant.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?15th February 2026.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To get Greenland Trump would dither
The least, ‘one way or the other’,
When so rogue devils win,
It leads to greater sin,
World would get carved up together.
_________________________
Happenings | 36.01.2026 | political, USA, world, limerick
Note: In 2019, Trump’s wish to buy Greenland was greeted by gales of laughter. Today the mood has turned sombre. Predators always advance slowly and deliberately. He’s serious today, and emboldened no less after what he did to Venezuela. The frozen white land of Greenland seems to have turned red hot. And it would be no surprise if he gets it, ‘one way or the other’, as he’s wont to say. And what about other big sharks of the world? Would not their appetite get whetted more?
In the churlish church of the frozen chosen
Where they're called to be emboldened
Though mugwumps may frown
And complain of the weight of their crown
In God’s Kingdom they’re advancing as scolded
And in this is how God does promote
Through suffering and removal of mote
Through pain we are free
To use our free will as it be
Of the irenic scene we must take note
Do you hear how the strings sweetly sing?
From the harp to the autoharp’s ring
With guitar and with bass
Choir voices in place
Their music makes Heaven take wing
So let us help one another in accord
With God’s movement on this earthly chessboard
What we forfeit when we don’t pray
How we reject others who need help in this way
Help us our most precious and forgiving Lord
lunar quintessence
brilliant and emboldened glow~
portentous signal
(November Full Moon – Cree and Assiniboine)
(“Creation Myth Merit Badge”, 2016, original oil)
Death Cult In Our Midst
There is a death cult in our midst
Some you can tell, many you can’t
Until they open their mouths
And out comes the hate for Life
And cheering on of Death.
Everywhere you look you can see the cult
Online, on TV, in movies and games
Where death and destruction
Is glorified and normalized
And you score points and win
When you kill.
The line between fantasy and reality
Thus blurred and/or erased
Leaves US where we are today
Broken and divided
Fearful and emboldened.
What does tomorrow bring?
More death
The cult dreams, whispers, chants and sings.
More death
Until only the pure remain.
(9/15/25)
O, but that the Master Poet would grant this rhyming couplet.
That we could bind the wounds of this broken heart
Wherein the beat of freedom and equality grows weak,
Enabling the meek, indeed to inherit what your love bestows
To all your children squabbling, silent, frightened, or benumbed
By prospect daunting or emboldened, lost among the ruin.
Children are resilient. And may we laugh again and play,
And build those castles, sand or stone, that time will surely wash asunder.
Still having made their purpose known to those whose matter waits
Upon that moving finger weaving time in writing what outlives the Fates.
Emboldened by whispers,
echoes curdled in algorithmic rot—
electronic voices hiss their sermons,
venom soaked in coded politeness,
dripping beneath polished avatars.
Hate seeps
through curated feeds,
a slow infection
wrapped in memes,
seducing the young,
the angry,
the aimless—
until ideology feels like identity.
A curriculum of fear
streamed without consent,
etched into abandoned timelines,
where education once should have stood.
Now, only digital ruins remain—
barren soil
where thought might have grown.
This isn’t chaos.
It’s code.
Written to polarize,
to radicalize,
to dehumanize.
They teach with silence,
they preach with fragments,
they baptize with blame.
Their design is surgical—
not to inform,
but to fester.
Not to question,
but to conquer.
To crown the cruel
and cast the rest as fuel.
vernal equinox
lemon-zested oracle ~
emboldened healer
And as the colored paper fades
Behind its dimly failed charades
We brace ourselves for long parades
Of silent tongues soft slashing blades
For silence has a hidden tone
The blue light hum of muted phone
Whispering, you are not alone
Seduced by nameless unseen crone
The etiquette of keyboard realm
Makes us believe they hold the helm
Control the cord that sounds the knell
A force we cannot overwhelm
And yet we give this silence pause
For deep within resides its cause
First, its hinted glint tinged the
Venetian Blinds like a timid child.
Slowly its emboldened gleam
permeated the obscure room
dispelling night’s cryptic rule.
Second, it beamed a brilliant column
of sun, glaring through blinds and
reflecting against the back wall.
Its gradual growing glow bled through
cracks and corners of the windows,
flooding the room with the brilliant blaze.
Finally, the dawn was declared as
the golden rapture hollowed out
the slightest shadows and took over.
Its light became the dominant force
defining the new day,
the absolute morning.
The unbearable grief he never wished for or imagined
made him a secluded man shunning all Humanity;
he clung to a feeble breath so void of each certainty,
telling himself he had to fight harder and be admired.
I saw him chasing clouds out of his bleary sky
with an urge stronger than desire, " Let no hope
be held from me, I deserve joy unlikely anybody."
What made change his mind staring at that rope?
How many bottles of rum he had stored in his hut?
Did the small paycheck he earned cover the hefty price?
At no vail, he tried to rob the local liquor store twice;
nobody bailed him out, prison brought despair not guilt.
He sits in the coldest room staring at the darkest sky,
who dares to shake his hand and lift him up to mollify
his confined spirit not emboldened by actual reality?
Help him overcome his dire loneliness and sobriety!
Went to the ROM last weekend
The Royal Ontario Museum
An absolute and total eye opener for sure
We, with our sophisticated smugness
With our feeling of superiority
Emboldened by today's amazing technological
Need to stop and take a look back
At the achievements of these artisans
From centuries gone by
Of generations with totally amazing skills
Without the aid of of today's modern technology
To help them in their endeavours
Just their hands and their inventive minds
The results of which were astounding
I stood there in awe
It was a totally mind blowing experience
Everyone needs to take a break and look back
It makes us realize what great achievements
The human mind has always been capable of
It was a jaw dropping experience!
And I let you fly like a nightingale,
Coward-less and emboldened.
I am your God and you are mine as
Silliness sounds into total surrender.
Every person's beauty shining
Like any morning glow.
Like your face always.
My love is made possible by your existence.
I bow down towards your every breathe. You,
The Savior I help save,
Saving you saving me,
Saving you saving me.
As I walked along the way
Beside the grand bay
I searched for million ways
Lest I should go astray
Lonely and cold
Breathless I stand before the hold
Where I was so bold
And almost got sold
The clouds herald their march
It took many to scratch
Upon the wooden birch
In sight of a search
For what lay beholden
Was not golden
But for many miles ridden
That made me emboldened
Now as I recall that day
There's nothing coming in the way
For it lies far away
...beyond my sway.
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