Inviolate Poems

Ink and Paper

The nights you’ve squandered, shadowed, cold,
A silent tally, never told.
The hollow ache, a constant guest,
A day repeated, an empty test.

No gentle dawn, no whispered plea,
Change storms the gates, wild and free.
A forceful hand, a midnight’s claim,
Or rot in comfort’s fleeting shame.

The fragile lies, the threads you weave,
“Tomorrow comes,” the words deceive.
But time, a thief, steals quiet grace,
Leaving behind an empty space.

Tonight, the pen a sharpened blade,
In silent hours, a truth displayed.
No guru’s wisdom, no magic gleam,
Just ink and paper, a waking dream.

Unmask the flaws, the buried fears,
The whispered doubts of passing years.
Tear down the walls, expose the lies,
Where hidden truth in darkness cries.

No borrowed words, no scripted fate,
But your own voice, inviolate.
The silence calls, a haunting sound,
To face the shadows, stand your ground.

Rewrite the scenes, reclaim the days,
Forge a new path through life’s dark maze.
No waiting grace, no soft reprieve,
The pen’s sharp edge you must believe.

To claim the story, fiercely done,
Before the fading of the sun.

A STUDY IN VIOLET

A STUDY IN VIOLET

This treasure house of objets d’art
Littered with plots and storylines
A room encrusted with jewels of history
Inviolate – and undisturbed.

Over there, a military tunic
Blue – and in such fine condition.
Pale lapels perhaps too remote or innocent
Of its vile ‘let them have it’ past.

Here, an abandoned symphony
Black notes pebbledash the page.
Written for that ancient violin, no…
Viol. Late Belle Epoch I think.

That leather book I recognise
An ancient asset register.
And with such work of reference
Identify - a little more.

A philtre or monk’s cure perhaps.
Or poison, used to sway an empire.
Something forensic science may analyse
This phial – let it keep its secret.

Here, a scroll. Homeric tragedy?
Greek, according to the words.
Those old strange symbols, faded now
A ‘Phi’ or letter ‘P’ – I’m sure.

I cannot touch nor be considered
A robber, loose in a dusty tomb.
Caught in the torchlight, gold in hand
Say ‘Fie!’ – or let him go.

This treasure is too much for anyone
To really own. To hide away.
Bequeathed to me but never really mine.
Something Auntie Violet always knew.

Inviolate Spirit

Written: December 04, 2023
             _________________________________________

Desensitizing me—destroying my delusion.
Snapping sight of the kaleidoscopic illusion.
Delving into eternity of utopian ecstasy
Shimmering in an ethereal golden fantasy

Drifting inwards—yielding inner space.
Flamboyant with a nectarous embrace
Playing an intricate oboe of tenderness.
Drumming along to the tune of gentleness

Invigorating my soul—infusing my barren cup
Embraced me wholeheartedly the wassail up.
Sitting on grass, smelling delicious lavender.
Gulped divine ambrosia, wild or scavenger

Syncing wires up to my celestial essence
A haven where my bosom can quiescence
A tranquil haven where my spirit can soar.
A tranquil haven that my heart can't deplore.

A sanctuary where my soul can find peace.
Somewhere, my soul may relax and release.
Nothing can be concealed in my quiet spirit.
The whole day, one can both sense and hear it.

Demotion

He drew the drapes, nothing caught his eye
it seemed that yesterday had replicated itself,
only today it had chosen a deeper of gray tint.

On balance, it could have been
the color of stale puke, for the night
had up-chucked its darkness into a
sickly yellow
morning bucket of bile.

Examining his mind, he ascertained by
the laborious task of magnifying
the inconsequential
that he was not clinically depressed
just bored.

Later that day he bought a black puppy,
to remind himself that he was apparently
no longer the center of the universe,
a position he had held
to be inviolate until now.
The demotion was irksome.

He took the French Bulldog to Walmart,
claiming loudly that it was a service animal
for he had need of a dumb friend.

His new dumb friend peed on him
in the candy aisle
and generally acted like it was the center
of the universe, a notion reinforced
by its many casual admirers.

That dog was having a great day,
and by the next day he felt it was quite acceptable
to be its little helper and general factotum,
for it absolutely beats
trying to play God 7 days a week
and no day of rest.

The Royal Bloodline

From ancient times, a bloodline divine,
Ruling over lands, with power to shine,
Kings and queens, of a line sacred,
Their legacy, forever inviolate.

With wisdom and might, they led the way,
The throne, their seat, unchallenged sway,
Law and order, with justice in sight,
Their subjects, loyal, in all their might.

From the Pharaohs of Egypt, to Nubia''s emperors bold,
Nubia''s Piankhy the conqueror, with his army so bold,
Great warriors, monarchs, and sages wise,
Their blood, the very essence of power's rise.

They ruled with glory, wearing their crown,
Near and far, their renown abound,
Their word, supreme, their strength, unbound,
Their rule, an empire forever renowned.

Their legacy, a tapestry of power and class,
Their bloodline, the greatest of ancient past,
So here's to the Royal bloodline divine,
Eminent and resplendent, standing the test of time.

The Menu Today

Paradox humanity widespread insanity
Violent diet; plus viewpoints inviolate
1970s t v box, equals the earliest intox'
2000s loaded inbox reality in kris-cross
Innundated info, nightmares of unknown
Control as destiny? In monster intensity'
Dystopian intellect; humans at disconnect
Poisoned minds, engineer own immunity.
Shall we allow such evil? With impunity.'
If i fear?? I fear God alone; and dis-unity.'

In support of fear is a liar contest
Sotto poet

King and She

The king announced he might abdicate,
but first his enemies he would castigate.
He thought slowly and did concentrate
before he sought them to intimidate.

His comely wife he did adulate.
He did not wish to deprecate
her reputation so he did hesitate,
himself or her, to incriminate.

She had no thought to duplicate,
no desire at all to replicate
and he was willing to extricate
himself from the desire to procreate.

His enemies ready to infiltrate,
he sought the wisdom to meditate
on how he might obdurate
and keep his kingdom inviolate.

A Wake Up Call

A WAKE UP CALL
the sleep
     of centuries
trancelike
induced
restlessness
  delved the unconscience

ambivalence
   a constant interplay
 patterning
      tranquil hours
inviolate
profiled
in revolutions
    throes

THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived

An Elysian Field

Within a lush verdant meadow, meanders a lazy river
Where wildflowers bloom beneath the warm breath of the sun
They sway upon a gypsy wind on this early morning in June

Stems of purple heather rise above the carpeted earth, 
Emerald green as any Irish hillside or garden near the shore
Their saccharine scented plumes attract the pollen seekers

Bursts of color can be seen in shades of scarlet and white
For growing on the river's bank is a plethora of anemone
Not the variety that resides in the depths of a sea

Yellow iris mingle with daisies in this alfresco arboretum
Untouched by the hand of man, it's an immaculate bouquet
Resplendent in perfumed glory and pristine perfection

There's the mellifluous sound of a cascading waterfall
singing a soft melody as it spills from crevices of granite rock
Nourishing the serpentine river flowing through the glade

This haven appears as an Elysian Field, as Eden must have been
A sanctuary to remain inviolate and reverenced by the gods
Perceived to be hallowed ground, too sublime for mortal man


September 29, 2021
Your Best Sijo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula

Brighter Sun

Subtly emerging through dawn ascends
silently advancing in cold morning mist
solemnly relieving sentinels of darkness
dour guardians retreat their duties done.

Sovereign resplendent steady she eases
an ancient inviolate purpose so timeless
the sage hot sun resolutely commanding
swiftly brightens satin gray wistful skies.

Black legion of pools swiftly imprisoned
hostages of the growing light and heat.
sentinels beset besieged by maneuvers
superior forces their capture obtained.

Bright illuminating over shadows ruling
whimsical sun seeming in her dominion
still resolutely ruling eternal the darkest
among the far hidden regardless the way.


(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)

Sodomites

Sodomites

Ezekiel 16:49
Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters were arrogant, over fed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. 

That day you seraphs passed the gate
You heralded an uncreate
You had been told the ten to seek
For nine or less no mercy speak

Instead of going to the square
You yielded to four foreign there
Who chose a fertile valley then
From mountain streams to abject sin

But if you had you would have found
Five righteous ones there cruelly bound
Penetrated, stretched out straight
Their holy souls inviolate 

The victims of both young and old
Abused by those whose hearts were cold
To innocence and love once near
Then limited to five born *****

Who refused to enjoin the rest
In malice soaked with violence 
And disregard for those in need
Their consciences did no more heed

The cries of those whose lights went dim
So at high noon came heaven’s brim
Five bodies freed from spirits’ flight 
There left to burn with Sodomites

Clay

It was a different time then.
Richer ink in a quality pen.
The pace was slower,
expectations lower
and time seemed to expand,
to accommodate our purpose.
Life was a circus, at our command.
We were ringmaster, gymnast and clown,
Lord of the Dance 
and we chased the day down.
The streets were ours,
The nights to explore.
We knew nothing of politics,
famine or war.
Cloistered, cocooned
in childhood's carapace,
dreaming of Indians 
and creatures from space.
We were inviolate, urchins,
searching for we knew not what,
but, what we got 
was worth more than gold
and, truth be told,
it made me what I am.

Longing

Longing
by Michael R. Burch

We stare out at the cold gray sea,
overcome
with such sudden and intense longing . . .
 
our eyes meet,
inviolate,
and we are not of this earth,
this strange, inert mass.
 
Before we crept
out of the shoals of the inchoate sea,
before we grew
the quaint appendages
and orifices of love . . .
 
before our jellylike nuclei,
struggling to be hearts,
leapt
at the sight of that first bright, oracular sun,
then watched it plummet,
the birth and death of our illumination . . .
 
before we wept . . .
before we knew . . .
before our unformed hearts grew numb,
once again,
in the depths of the sea’s indecipherable darkness . . .
 
When we were only
a swirling profusion of recombinant things
wafting loose silt from the sea’s soft floor,
writhing and sucking in convulsive beds
of mucousy foliage,
 
flowering,
flowering,
flowering . . .
 
what jolted us to life?

Keywords/Tags: life, evolution, love, desire, longing, passion, lust, sex, sexuality, relationship, chemistry, biology, hormones, appendages, orifices

The Corncrake

From deep within encroaching night, there sounds
a solitary corncrake in the gloom.
His rasping never ending call surrounds 
and echoes far beneath a cloudy moon.
A very private bird, he still must tell
the world at large of how he seeks a mate
to woo and win and then with her to dwell
in this his covert place inviolate.
Flag irises bloom in June out in the west.
The machair colours the Atlantic shores. 
It’s here the corncrakes choose to build their nest,
but she alone her tiny brood ensures,
and sees them grow and ready to take wing,
for her sweet mate has gone philandering
and yet again, before the summer's through,
he’ll call to seek a new love to pursue.
Such is the way with corncrakes.

Glytch, Itch, Witch, Switch, Twitch

Sometimes I muse that life can be a *itch
When every prospect seems of rosy hue
From cerulean sky a fatal glitch
Precipitates its mischief; then I rue
That naive expectation of a child
On whom Dame fortune yet has only smiled

Then something in my skin begins to itch
In parts inviolate to ease of scratch 
And paranoia whispers: “‘tis the Witch
Who cast her evil influence, to hatch
Black parasites that burrow in my brain
Contaminate all thought, implant a bane”

Should this dark image linger unrelieved
Or might a metaphorical light switch
Restore a life where hope may be conceived
So cradled safe and calm, with ne’er a twitch
Neath skies with butterflies where bluebirds sing
Believe that?  Chance you’ll believe - anything


Date your poem written: 10 October 2019

Contest where Not Placed: Itch witch glitch or twitch

DATE CONTEST WHERE NA'D WAS JUDGED: 1 Nov.2019

Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019

Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode

• Short Inviolate Poems
• Famous Inviolate Poems
• Best Inviolate Poems
• Read Inviolate Poems
• Long Inviolate Poems
• Inviolate Quotes