She will not bow or break, stand in the shadow of your mistakes
But show strength, and resilience, that she still has what it takes
She has a mission and as a destiny without you it will be fulfilled
As your foolhardiness thwarted her true dreams will still be filled
Colours shown for their true intended, intentions, are suspended
Falsehoods exposed of which past words that beguile pretended
As she fears not the ground that upon she has to toil, or to travel
Rejects all the traps that are primed, that she as needs to unravel
She has a home in which to defend, so its land, as all of its wealth
Left un-protected to guard, where she has to use all of her stealth
To bypass the greedy eyes, and hands of others intentions to gain
The last of her royal designated blood line, and hers only to retain
Sword in hand she will not bow, or break to this right as to defend
This legacy given to her only as to which on her it now all depends
Purple spots buzz by
Chatter inside his head
The air is quivering and thick
- no rush
"Stretch out your tongue"
"why, give me seven reasons"
Blessed cogs
on the grandmother clock
a legacy from the age of the fathers
Every heartbeat, clock ticks on
Searching for connection
screaming mayhem in the hospital
Deep coma, these locks he's afraid of
Red stop sign ... foolhardiness
the smoke of zeal
sound exploding launches fireworks
Nothing could stop him
Perseverance, trying to map the unknown
Nuns in freshly ironed uniforms washing his face
he can't move a single muscle
Childhood memories, smell of warm sheets
When the forsythia produces buds
- maybe, his second chance
“... betrayal begins with trust.” ~ Phish
Nothing is more hurtful than betrayal--
The traits of Cain, Delilah, Judas, Brutus;
In their darkest hours they all led astray
those they vowed to be loyal to and protect,
spawning events that were calamitous.
Trust—
It appears, there’s none anymore
Not here, not now and never ever was;
It’s an ancient fable, a myth
long tucked away in books
in sermons and scriptures
in mythology and fairytales,
Not a treasure rare and precious,
but a mere figment of our imagination;
Trust is a portal through which
a man can manipulates, lies and betrays,
A chimera of the fantasy world
like a mirage to the desert dwellers
a floating straw to a drowning man
a flickering light at the end of
a tunnel to a desperate soul.
Trust but thyself
and to thyself be true,
Yet indulge not in thine own conceit,
Mistrust no man without just cause
Nor be credulous without proof,
Stay neither far from reason
nor close to folly…
Trust is hard to find,
But when found, don’t let go!
~05/24/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge 'B' quote
~Sponsor: constance La France
Unsure of the wisdom of getting married that day,
the young woman stood in the garden
of her groom-to-be.
Rarely entirely confident of any big decisions,
she trembled underneath
her beautiful white sequinned wedding gown.
She pondered and pondered,
but anything bad that entered her mind
had barely any weight
compared with all the good of the man she loved!
Suddenly her gaze fell upon the rose bush.
Although it was early November,
one passionately red rose still bloomed there,
tall and poised – ready for romance!
As if by fate, a brilliantly red cardinal
alighted nearby the rose and cocked his tiny head at her
as if mocking her for her foolhardiness.
She recalled that seeing a cardinal meant good fortune,
Smiling then, she turned enthusiastically,
headed for wedded bliss.
Jan. 6, 2023
For Brian Strand's the 'SECOND CHANCE ' Poetry Contest
Feeling forlorn at being fully forsaken by His Father
Christ was cruelly crucified by His own creation
Yet He forgot not to forgive their foolhardiness
And I am one of those impertinent idiots
My misdeeds too marred His majestic magnificence
Yet He forgot not to forgive my fearsome fallacies
When with firm faith I fixed my eyes on His face
A repentant heart rendered remission of my sins
For He forgot not to forgive my flagrant failings
What more, I'm welcomed as a worthy worshipper now!
Cleansed in the fountain of His agape love, I cling to Him
For His forgiveness has finally freed my famished soul
How can I not forgive others for their faulty flaws?
My Saviour sovereignly said to forgive seventy times seven
And so I forget not to forgive my friends and 'foes' alike.
05.24.2021
For Unseeking Seeker's "Forgiveness" contest
Deja Vu
Alas, we compose poetry to impress others with our brilliant
brains, hapless wit, sexy bodies, or holy sanctimony.
All foolhardiness if you think of it, and an exercise in utter, grandiose
egotistical folly!
Just be you, never hurt another poet here.
Because when you do, Deja Vu is coming for you next, my dear!
December 8, 2019
Blame not the gale, or the inhospitable sea-gulf, or friends’ tardiness,
mariner! Just man’s foolhardiness.
—Leonidas of Tarentum, translation by Michael R. Burch
Following the stupefying sensation of my heart
I take a long and high flight
With the wings of self-deception.
Having some kind of foolhardiness,
I fly in search of green fields
Leaving behind the dreary desert
To sing sweet songs of life.
The warnings of my Prudence,
To stay with my other mates, go unheeded.
The green fields once
Where I yearn to reach
Turn into the burning flames
With deadly smoke
That chokes my throat
And darkens my vision.
And I, no more able to fly,
Fall into the lap of disillusionment.
Wings are fully burnt
And burnt I am from within.
Sobbing at the impulsiveness-my Achilles’ heel-
With a sigh, waiting for the last breath,
I close my eyes.
Do you wake up well jungle juggernaut?
If the forest wakes up well, it's to me egal ;
if the forest doesn't wake up well, it's to me egal;
if the tusker has woken up well, what else?
You that breathe with dexterity,
You that walk with dexterity.
Your foot print; fortress for the rodents.
Do you wake up well Elephant?
Mind not their foolhardiness,
they that see you in distance and propose:
come let hunt him with our stick.
Is the tamer of forest not bigger than that we say
let's hunt him with our cudgels?
Bull may be tethered, buffallo may be;
the king is yet uncrowned
that can tether the jungle juggernaut.
The ancient tree stood in the clearing
majestic in its full leafed beauty
its old branches reaching up to the sky
roots stretching deep down into the earth
what different things it had seen
during the time it had stood
witnessing many a battle
even a murder or two
the secrets it could tell
Of the foolhardiness of mankind
600 years it had stood sentry
over all it surveyed
now still majestic but slowly dying
it would take all it knew to the grave
contest:all about trees written 01/26/2011
To all who have been faithful, and also those who’ve sinned,
everything is meaningless; it’s like chasing the wind!
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun;
seeing what I had achieved from all my hands had done.
My work became grievous, so much that I hated life.
I realized nothing was gained through all of my strife.
Goods and achievements come from envy of the neighbors.
Comforts and advancements are results from their labors.
Following every generation, there would be more;
each succeeding will be displeased with the one before.
I’ve applied myself to understanding astuteness;
comprehending madness, as well as foolhardiness.
It’s better to admire with the eyes if you’re able,
than to covet something with want that’s insatiable.
I’d prefer to have one handful of tranquillity;
than to have two handfuls of ceaseless hostility.
Based on Ecclesiastes Chapter 3
Memories of days splashed with rue,
Misgivings accumulate
Penalties accrue
For when thine judgements of foolhardiness come due
Tis then that you realize that your days here are but few
After touching the bottom rock with the sole of your shoe
Only then
Can you ascend
And set your compass
To true
They start out in youth as marionettes,
often as their own puppeteers,
clasping unseen crossed sticks
with unseen wires attached,
sometimes getting twisted in their own strands.
Once people get past the adolescent plagues
unique to to them,
they find the way to tilt the guide -
pulling shoulders straighter
with their hidden puppet strings
as insecurities dissolve
and slowly, foolhardiness recedes.
Joining the throng of all the puppeteers,
some become
masters at their craft,
manipulating others,
while some prefer to
simply play the role of marionette.
But everyone at one time or another
works the strings. . .
When people learn the “secret”
embracing life and losing woodenness. . .
they grow to understand
it’s not obligatory ,
nor is it even wise,
always to make sure
the guiding, unseen threads remain
untangled.
Revised for the People poetry Contest of Richard Lamoureux
He pledged not his love
N more happy she couldn have been
For love is more than jus pledges..
Love is a breath of the unseen!
Days many, too many, flitted past..
Unmarked, uncelebrated, an unspoken of affair..
She walked the tormentous streets of Silence
So wistful an air, so proud and yet so fair!
Then came time to an algid still
Twas time come, to wade away
Thru waters untame, untimid n cold,
N all when there was so much left to say!
PARTED LIES THIER PATHS...
Two souls, caught unawares in the aphrodian web
The aroma locked up deep, deep, within..
Yearning. Yearning , n yet too proud to let out the ebb!
She could have looked back,
n CHOSEN TO THWART A BECKONIN FATE
But she! She walked the tormentous streets of silence..
N in cruel withering dignity, did but wait.
He yearned no more , but a smile,wistful n meek
A smile drunk of cupid's unsurpassable foolhardiness
Differences forgotten, hearts rent asuder..
Moments when murder was loneliness!
Pain did her wistfulness rule,
The smile melted into the parting
As roads drew on, uphill, ahead..
Memories.. All mem'ries that defy Time's calling!
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