The two of us fell instantly in love
It came as a gift from heaven above
We had to keep our feelings hidden
For me falling in love was forbidden.
You wrote me a letter long, long ago
Exquisite writing from my youthful beau
But the letter had been opened and read
Causing my poor heart much sorrow and stress.
We were young, love was frowned upon
It became impossible, had to move on
I never saw you, not ever again
It wasn’t easy to live with the pain.
I wear your handwriting etched on my heart
Inked in vibrant colourfulness of art
Words I’ll cherish till the stars cease to shine
Written once upon an enchanted time.
We are blessed with a gift called life
To experience and live as we please
As this life ends….all we depart with
Is the love we have known
AND
our etched memories!
A Name's Worth
Names etched in stone,
Graffiti'd with pain,
Destroyed, yet not gone,
Echoes remain.
It's hard to keep a name,
When hands erase with spite,
But I won't give up the claim,
My name holds through the fight.
In streets, in halls of fame,
A name's the mark we bear,
Though torn and worn with time,
It's worth the struggle, beyond compare.
I'll hold on to mine,
A symbol of my past,
A beacon for my future's design,
My name, forever to last.
Mr. Phiri Enock Phiri Reigns
The rustling of leaves interplays with the ocean breeze,
as traces of moonlight escape through blackout curtains hanging from steel rods.
Bolts of illumination highlight stacks of books caked in dust,
while a man, decrepit with age, sits on a worn auburn-coloured leather chair.
His balding hair is grey from years of turmoil.
Wrinkles lay heavy, nestled deep within his face,
exposing the fragility in his demeanor.
Placed before him: stark white paper and a singular obsidian pen.
Removing his wire-thin spectacles, he wipes them gingerly with his nightshirt
and returns them safely to perch on his sunken cheeks.
Ruminating words flood through his mind
as he picks up the pen with his slender fingers.
The grandfather clock approaches three in the morning to the left of him,
reminding him that time is not on his side.
Scribbling fragments of what he can remember on the paper,
his last will and testament begins to unfold—
final wishes interwoven with untold life stories.
Loneliness weighs heavy in his heart
as the wavering flames of his existence extinguish
with his concluding pen strokes.
A-im
N-either
T-o
O-ppose
N-ew
I-nsights
N-or
O-bstruct
Q-ueries
U-ntil
I-deas
D-o
D-etail
A-ll
M-essages
©bfa051025
Monocrostic (Birthday of Antonino F. Quiddam)
Two hearts written
In sandy shores
Is passed and short.
No wonder hap
Romantic do
Seek joy short live.
Live not penchant
Dream love that paint
In sandy shore.
True love is etched
Inside the heart
Forever lived.
in ancient language,
I read amazing info
about history
what a great discovery
so ancient text etched in stone
He weeps while carving out her form
From memories of long days past.
Their life was like a raging storm
In every weather, so steadfast.
Together they had spent their lives
Happy, carefree, no worries known.
He took her for his loving wife
She took him also for her own.
Entwined in love a sweet caress
His fingers found a lump one day.
T'was in her breast, so with distress
A visit to the doctor pay.
Bad news he said, the tests revealed
A cancer's grown, has spread around.
Her husband's shock was not concealed
No cure at this stage could be found.
In final days a sadness shared
They faced her death with heavy hearts.
He vowed to her as tears were shed
Upon her death they'd never part.
So, from a piece of marble stone
Her form so perfect in his mind.
Her beauty to the world was shown
This monument he'd leave behind.
This story happened years ago
She never left once she was formed.
For all who see her, they will know
Within her sculpture love transformed.
Two hearts glare at each other
Clutching their stone tablets
Written by the finger of their rightness,
Guarding the secret handshake
In single sighted delinquent tantrums
Refusing to share the offertory
Of a loving cup -
Consumed by daggers of thoughtless words
Carved deeply in a scarred heart.
Floral offerings wilt
Upon stone manifestos
Where ashes of incense lay impotent
To clear the air
And wipe clean the embedded words.
Passion falls in pixels of distortion
Blurring valleys where sacred poles burn –
Lie in dust written in the past –
Paralyzed
Unable to rise from handwritten crypts
Placed in captive marble altars,
Epithets like an epitaph for love.
Immoveable stone resists the transcendent
Until forgiveness’ chisel
Re-writes the script of etched words
Crumbling in swaddled tears of humility
That know their need for grace
Consummated in love’s perfect signature.
Our village has a standing stone
and on it etched are many names
Of village men, both young and old,
who gave their lives amid the flames
The flames of war to end all wars
A delusional hope for sure
For as we know it still goes on
To kill and slaughter many more
So when we lay the poppies red.
Honour those who never came home
Please give respect to all the rest
Whose names were never etched in stone
It’s been almost five years since you’ve been gone
It’s hard to believe it’s really been that long
Memories of you often haunt my mind
As grief can be painful and unkind
Today, I stopped for a visit to your grave alone
And stared at your name, forever etched in stone
My raw emotions are now swirling like a storm
Cutting my heart as if tiny glass shards did form
I was not prepared for your time to abruptly end
You were my biggest support, My Dad and godsend
You entered my life when I was only four years old
That part was kept a secret, until later when I was told
As I sit and hear the birds happily sing on this sad day
And admire the fountain that you loved in every way
I smile as I realize it’s across your stone in plain view
Your peaceful desire to be near the fountain came true
I remember past days of walks and talks with you here
A special place of memories I hold close and dear
Your name is etched in stone and forever in my heart
It’s never easy when a beloved parent must depart
May you rest in peace Dad as you enjoy the view everyday
And I hope and pray to be able to see you again someday
Destiny is not etched in stone,
It shifts like sands in the tide,
With every choice, the future sways,
A tale rewritten in countless ways.
Fate is not etched in stone so tight,
It bends and sways like morning light.
With will and heart, new paths are sown,
The choice is ours, not fate alone.
Luck is not etched in stone so true,
It comes and goes like morning dew.
With effort strong and heart so bold,
You shape your fate, not luck alone.
Love’s not etched in stone so deep,
It flows and shifts, it soars, it weeps.
With time it blooms, with time it fades,
A dance of hearts in light and shades.
Beneath the sun’s unyielding gaze,
Where time stands still in golden haze,
A tale is carved, yet left unknown,
Soft whispers drift, etched in stone.
The chisel’s touch, both sharp and true,
Reveals the heart, its depths in view.
Through every line, a truth is shown,
Dreams endure, now etched in stone.
drenched in pomegranate juice
the sand stone wished to be granite
yet a figment of imagination
eluded the tomb and it was over
eternally gone final impermanent
the children wept crocodile tears
but ancestors knew about snake bites
betrayal unforgiveness treachery deception
inscribed were false words
and only time would tell
if his wishes were granted
shaded under a fig tree
his begging bowl was empty
not one grain of rice graced death robes
yet saffron scents veiled his demise
as fruit of his loins shattered the earth
shadows danced a requiem
cacophony from split tongues
inscribed the message in blood
as vultures gathered
and songbirds went silent
yet wise jacaranda petals
found resting places in grooves
where the chisel had been
no eye for a blind eye
crack in the orb
universe spinning still
he chuckled from inside the grave
serene in lightness peaceful in mind
surreal quietude chirped at the dawn
of new beginnings
his dead heart full of undying passion
etched in a gem stone
the jewel lived on forever
a rough diamond without polish
true to himself
As both the dreamer and the dreamed in this world,
if we would wake up here, etch these words in stone;
save by honing rough edges, by ego knurled,
being the optimal method to atone,
the flag of love within, cannot be unfurled.
This is a path each of us must walk alone,
since it requires us to change our direction,
by contemplative consciousness correction.
We shape ourselves with the power of intent,
which softens when we retrace our steps in time,
becoming a child again, here, now present,
shifting into the heart, feeling bliss beat’s chime,
going where love takes us, following the scent,
whence thus doing nothing, we heavenward climb.
To awaken oh hermit, let the heart thaw,
that we see God’s light in wonderment and awe.
This or That, Vol 30 Poetry Contest
Edward Ibeh
As soon as my eyes cleared from the tears
I could see that his body and soul were long gone
He layed frozen in time
Lifeless, naked and sorry
Where the songbirds in his eyes
Lost forever in the morning storm
Still the sun peaked thru our bedroom
It's long rays covering the bed
Comforting, consoling and calling
And lending its hand in my time of need
In the background I could hear and feel the doom
As the ominous sound of the ambulance closed in
Only to confirm what I already knew
Where this validation tore at my heart
And this punctuation and pronouncement
Bringing a flood of unstoppable tears
For this was real
And a defining moment and turn in my life
From that point on
My mind was etched in tears
Where the montages of my husband's death played on
To his past voice whispering and echoing in my head
"Honey I had to leave on the night of a full moon"
It resonated, etching it's way in large block letters
For the mourning, and that morning never ended
I kept his secret seventeen years later
... now in the depths of a grieving heart
And in my eyes, where the black ravens keep multiplying
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