Jilting Poems

Here, I Will Stay

Standing alone, over grasses and cone
  Your dream is blown
Sunshine that touches my skin, wet or dry,
  Your word I woe
Waiting alone over dried leaves and tone
  Your soul unshown
One sunset you appeared as a crow
  Standing on my toe
You kept on picking on me as I blow
  Your beak so low
Fierce winds jilting you away
  Solitary here I stay
Your wings propel you towards me
  Your heart that twig and sow
Breath from the ocean you draw and pray
  Husky voice you say...
"I will rise and fall like a crow on hay
  for you I'll stay!"


   
  "Story of two lost souls separated by time,
 represented by a male bird
and a white female statue."


(Prosebite)

Day Turns To Night

A new century waits as the minutes
 progress
into hours of vestibular begotten memory

My thoughts being counted although I 
resist,
my feelings in service to what’s left behind

The sun and the moon trade in bartered 
romance,
each jilting the other as day turns to night

Another year is recorded in the serpentine 
past,
what’s seen a mirage—what’s measured retained 

(The New Room: March, 2021)

Where Opportunity Abounds

WHERE OPPORTUNITY ABOUNDS

She sat all alone in the dimly lit, smoky barroom
Nursing a gin and tonic that the ice had melted in
Her countenance was that of someone jilted
With a look that showed disdain for men

Two stools down there sat a stranger
Whose face had the same look as hers
It had a veritable blank stare look
That takes place when jilting occurs

Suddenly the bartender said rather loudly
Last call for the lonely hearts club
And at that moment their eyes met
The dim glow from the dimly lit bulb

Seemed brighter than ever before
He approached her ever so slowly
And offered to take her home
Her thoughts were he is so lowly

But the opportunity seemed quite harmless
So she accepted his generous offer
After all, they both were so lonely
And such a chance may have much to proffer

1 November 2019
Last Call For The Lonely Hearts contest - collaboration sponsored by Line Gauthier

Night Earth

A suave gaze, woolly texture, embellished the gaiety gesture -
of the charmeuse moon, perched like a napping heavenly dove,
Swarms of floating stars, clothed its beaming bride-like allure,
Its immortal repose, like a peek into celestial treasure trove,
Cashmere sparks erased, encroaching vestiges of darkness’ wilting cover, 
Grotesque shades stealthily evanesced, like an absconder jilting a stray-lover.
Often, rustling forests fanned their chastity, within earth’s soothed solitude,
While courting birds, would with the soulful stillness, intermittently interlude.
Fireflies roved like blazing butterflies, mountains gleamed from sparse distance -
Skies; were like suitors charming the earth with transient romance,
Meantime, demulcent breaths of pulsating night, induced like zephyrs opiate,
As flesh-less caresses of moist-less air, evoked tranquility insatiate,
Heaven’s graphics, sculptured in mortal picturesque of majesty ephemeral -
as I watched the Night Earth, become a real-life mural.

© Maverick Nyambu

Jubilant

Jumping for joy happy,
   jilting sorrow and fear.
Join in, celebrate with
   jolly expressions and
      jazzy appearance. No
judgement allowed, only  
   joyous celebration!


Kim Merryman
2/27/17

Roses Are Dead, Violets Are Wilting

Roses are red, Violets are blue,
Birds are still chirping and clouds are askew;
The sun is still shining as the flowers renew.

   Leaving me breathless reveling the view,
I leisurely watch as though I'm wanted too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Roses are dry, violets are tilting,
Shadows gloom over the barren and wilting;
I sit there and watch, my happiness jilting.

   What once was so vibrant was now turned to grey,
Slowly but surely withering away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Roses are dead, as violets are too,
Everything in sight now an ungodly hue;
My once a happy life was swallowed by truth.

   Wondering why after all this time I've succumb,
I silently apologized as my body went numb.

-Rebecca V.

Apartment 702

The
Door 
Was closed 
Forever
Leaving behind all
The memories gathered through the
Pass of time for decades in the flouted and forced bond
That shattered in the floor as a glass bottle jilting  evermore a flawed alliance











1-29-2016

Poet's Dozen'T

She was a beauty
              Rollerskating was the rage
                   Falling so often

    Traversing the oval pattern in ungainly fashion
    Just to prove to her that I had a manly passion.

  She, however, did not take my failures on the floor too kindly...jilting me
  While her older, wiser, sister helped me through that night of terror.

     Her sister took me by the hand and showed me the way.               
     Without speaking a word she shared her courage with me,
     As around that floor she led me on my legs of clay.
     So many firsts that night still hearken to me
     First Date... First Skate... First Women... to be etched in my memory.

Earth At Night

A suave gaze, woolly texture, embellished its gaiety gesture
The charmeuse moon, perched like a napping heavenly dove,
Clothed by swarms of floating stars, glazing its snowy allure,
Glimpses from immortality’s repose, a peek into celestial treasure trove,
Cashmere sparks chased, encroaching vestiges of darkness’ wilting cover, 
Grotesque shades stealthily evanesced, like an absconder jilting a straylover,
Rustling forests fanned their chastity, into earth’s soothed solitude,
Only courting birds would through the soulful stillness intrude.
Fireflies roved like blazing butterflies, mountains gleamed from sparse distance
The night, suitor clad by fleeting flirtations of splashing romance,
Demulcent breaths of pulsating night, inducing like zephyrs opiate,
Fleshless caresses of moistless touch, evoked tranquility tunefully satiate,
Heaven’s graphics, sculptured in mortal picturesque of majesty astral,
Earth at night, an idyllic paradisiac mirror, of vistas ephemeral.

© Maverick Nyambu

Scrooge's Miserly Christmas Tree

Christmas for stolid, hermetic recluse
Recidivistic mind all sentimentality doth refuse
Token, lifeless symbols; pageantry will recuse
Pawned, second-hand trinkets now in disuse
Barnacled to limbs drooping to spindling angles obtuse
Garnishments that jilting time accrues
Hung sloppily, stunted timber's temporal dues
Strings of patchwork lights will fuse
Faded colored-cones baring every bruise
Creased garlands as tawny ropes the girth noose
Strands of tarnished ice sickles futility to infuse
Stale candy canes, last year's refuse
Dangling from needles now frayed, loose
A corrugated tin star the pinnacle to abuse
Under the tree, ribbonless, empty boxes complete the ruse

Jack O' Lantern's Hallowed Eve

Jack O' Lantern jeers through 
molten screen
With fiery eyes and a fifth sense 
so keen
Masked goblins saunter in shadows 
unseen
Wily Jack swills jade folds with 
florescent stream
Billowing ghosts in phosphorescent, 
satin mantles teem
Stolid Jack bathes in Hoary Frost's 
velvety Vanilla Bean
Gaunt Scarecrow from barren field 
garnishes Per Diem
While gilded Jack siphons his rich, 
mellow meringue
Black-caped witch casts spells 
hinterland residual to glean
Domesticated Jack scans hearth 
skimming every melancholy dream
Rabid bats swarm o'er stinging 
insects with stealthy sheen
Endearing Jack charms fluttering 
moths with radiant gleam
Bleary-eyed werewolves' curdling 
howls seep through each woody 
seam
Spry Jack o'er quilted courtyard 
flutters his palling requiem
Creeping ghouls seek spilt warmth 
to redeem
Jilting Jack singes their hems with a 
boiling steam

Absconding Muse: Vagabond Scavenger

Jilting muse with availing inspiration did wend
Barren reservoir doth futility portend
A bristling quill with no well to descend
No gratuitous frills on vapid contours suspend
Seeking with brokered shill to amend
Imploring vagabond seeking itinerant dividend
Wading through flooded channels, silty grains to append
From literary vault embezzled title apprehend
In voluminous discourse a simple aphorism distend
In ancient annals a trite fable from corroded parchments 
rend
From Medieval chronicles a homily with which to contend
Out of Victorian poet's graded folio a euphemism vend
From contemporary laureates' silken threads, new yarn 
spin


distend- to stretch out, to inflate

Absconding Muse

My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion 
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy 
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn

Lordling

My playful little lordling mine
Gambolling on hay
Pouting shouting scouting kine
Dallying all the way

I lose the thread he flies
I catch him on the skies
From age to age
In sinner and sage
Through shepherd boys’ eyes

The cunning one so full of fun
Merry wistful on the run
From his lovers’ eyes
Lilting tilting jilting one
In thousands of disguise

How he steals the hearts
With ankle bells and yellow shells
With lotus eyes where mischief dwells
Of poor little damsels running wild
Bewitched by the tartar’s arts

To top it all he plays a flute
Like none played it before
Conjuring heavens lush with love
With promise of more in store

Half turning he looks askance
Kills by a casual glance
And full of mirth runs on through hearts
Dancing a merry dance

I caught him when he turned
And saw in love he burned

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