Demon of The Shadows
In darkness looms a shadowy figure,
A demon theif of joy and delight,
It slinks behind our backs and whispers sinister word,
Bidding us to see through its eyeholes instead.
As we stumble through life's labyrinth,
Chasing after dreams that seem too far,
This creatures creeps, growing bolder, darker,
Until our would becomes an endless night.
Love hearts and scabby knees.
Dead flies and stinging bees.
Dirty nails and sweaty lips.
Fishnets with ragged slips.
Eyeholes in a hessian sack.
Pimples on a tattooed back.
Toys that she just can’t unpack.
Helen.
Secret Helen.
Lies from a mother’s heart.
Secrets that fell apart.
Beauty too divine to see.
As purple as a Judas Tree.
Singing from her cradle jail.
A baby crying weak and frail.
Giggle, breathe, inhale, exhale.
Helen
Splintered Helen.
An infantile brutalist.
A wide-awake somnambulist.
Mamma’s bile and Daddy’s fist.
A kiss, a slap a broken wrist.
She hides within a dark recess.
She dances with her own distress.
A monster wearing fancy dress.
Helen
Sacred Helen.
Fantasies of guilt and sin.
Concealed beneath a slab of skin.
Loathe the self and stunt the flesh.
Her impotence and spite enmesh.
To love the girl, she veils the face.
To save the world from its disgrace.
Before she leaves without a trace.
Helen
Shiny Helen.
Based on a poem by Tim Gunderman
Fight to breathe, fight to cease
our endless warring broken for the chaos we call peace.
I do believe and must concede
that a battle doesn't mean a person is or isn't freed.
In days of peace, I mean like these,
Do we always have to suffer just to speak our minds at ease?
All our days in times of hate,
Weeds grow up around us, pressing down on us, a weight,
so I believe.
Word and deed blurt out our need,
like hatchlings, with our open mouths consumed by when we'll feed.
How can it be we, too, misread
each other, choosing differences? Did we not see Him bleed?
Am I a wandering Kaiju monster
in a costume come unglued?
I think a 'no', I mean, a 'yes', but it's all askew,
Through eyeholes I am trying to find a message to receive,
But all that I perceive is, I believe I believe.
Love...
it took away
my sight for life
unheededly,
it rooted into
the eyeholes of mine
till it reached my core of life;
the heart
I already gifted to you.
You see,
I placed it upon
your very hands,
and, for now on, it is ready
to break out into blossom.
It waits for you to deflower it.
Revealed
When busted
Behind the mask
False bravado slowly disintegrates
The masks two eyeholes expose two twinkling eyes…
Always straight to the eyes
Truly, the windows of the soul, that is…
As long as the owner of the eyes walk their talk
I have broken bread with humans so shallow
I thought it was a mirage
It takes wisdom and practice to discern the difference between the deceptive sparkle in another’s eyes, behind their mask, denoting evil and the Shine of truth and goodness...I Still Stumble
One can be acquainted with another human for many years and share intimacy
then ...decades later they ooze out of their mask, which can no longer hide their ugly insides and this beloved turns into a Midday Night Terror!!
I feel free to be me in most environments
Not in need of a mask
Could not be Me and wear one
I am fond of diving deep
Jill
For Jerry T Curtis ~
This is a fun piece to accompany "Up Into The Blue"
by Jerry...AKA Mondo Blue. In jest he asked me to
name the super hero in his poem...so here he is.
If you face great peril, here's what you should do..
Yell out in a loud voice, "Please help me Mondo Blue!"
A sip of strong black coffee, and a bite of buttered toast,
he's a mighty champion, but you'll never hear him boast.
Kisses to his wife and kids, he then dons his flying duds.
Into his secret closet, through a hidden door he thuds.
Very carefully, Mondo adjusts the eyeholes of his mask.
No feat is too difficult for him, all you need to do is ask.
In silver costume emblazoned with a symbol of blue,
he'll be on his way to thwart all the evil that men do.
A cape of magical silken cloth, and tall boots of black,
MONDO BLUE is the defender...always ready to attack!
The heather caresses leather
As across these hills I tread
The boggy ground it squelches
Moving like a water bed
Don’t stop or soon the eyeholes
With bog water they will fill
Put pace in step and move on
A little further up the hill
The summit from cloud appears
A very welcome sight
With sunlight raising vapour
From the cloud wet anthracite
Soon legs can be relieved from load
And eyes take in the view
Retracing path my feet have trod
Past Bracken, Broom and Yew
Then down the hill with faster gait
My eager legs they ply
To take me home to cottage white
Near the fields of Athenry
I used to think the night swallowed us,
Took away our pain, and spat us out again
Whole, mended like a darned sock.
I used to say, go and rest now.
You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.
Now, I keep repeating this contraction and expansion,
In, out. This dense fog, the light is distilled awfully.
I cannot lift my weary limbs, singed eyeholes protruding
From teary eyes, I shrink back to nothing.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.