Long Anguishing Poems
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I unburied my heart and cried.
Poor little thing Poor little fool
indigent in there, no answer.
no one came back for me
Everyone blue light mesmerized
faces minor February moons
Mid-air, last fare, au contrair—
Cushion collectors, made in China
Obsolete foetus, Pushkin pushers
Amulet of a Talisman, not fair
Eloquency uttered, sputtered, natural lying
Platinum kissogram
O sweet sad parting, old mar
anguishing languishing farewell my friend
Wheelbarrow of borrowed clouds
check the sundial for Saturn’s moon
terrestrial ball wedding leaves
Clocks and gowns, frowning clowns
undo death —
for the love of you
unto death if not
The sadness of getting lonely, weary and old
is none other than the anguishing thought,
we can't avoid feeling or mentioning at all cost;
daily unrest triggers the awful death word!
Will all frighten when that time comes?
Shutting windows to shelter ourselves
from an imaginable cold worsens existence;
it's not winter yet, gather common sense!
A menace is horror to whomever perceives it
as an imminent demise, a sudden sorrow that
persists and torments feeble souls intensely shivering;
insidious voices transform all moods and well-being!
Whoever detests old age will have his own pain
to bear when he comes face to face with reality;
and the one who uses his young body to entertain,
escapes it from it a while, then encounters fatality!
Declining years show their signs on faces,
unbearable is the isolation from a society
that abuses and scolds the enfeebled minds,
all they ask for is understanding, not mercy!
Are they able to withstand the fury of the rainstorm,
the fret of desolation amid screams and crashing noises?
And despite their strengthless, fear and deviating tones,
nothing delights them more than the soothing calm!
They have lived a life with very noble ideals,
no affection they withheld from their peers;
and having completed their devoted human task,
they'll go serenely as they came into life to be brisk!
It's so clear too us that who chooses to live in dreadful darkness
decides to disregard what's sacred indulging in wrongful pleasures;
and for the ones who strongly believe in a gratifying, divine purpose,
they pave the way not with gold but with something very grandiose!
The greyness or whiteness of hair shows actual age,
it's not complaining about wrinkles, moods and looks:
it's the absence of compassion, kindness and closeness,
take away these three from them and they'll feel rage!
Anguished
Lord, I feel a plethora full of pain.
My faith and my hope slowly begin to wain.
Where are you? Are you there?
I cry out to you, but; a whisper of a prayer.
Tired of giving up, I want to breathe my last breath.
To rest my weary life, pass on my soul on to the reaper of death.
My physical pain is almost too much to bear.
Leaving me emotionally drained to the point that I really don't care.
Why do I have to endure such anguishing agony?
So much pain physically and emotional tormenting?
Hear me...hold me..confort me..before it's too late..
Lord, I beseech you! Before; my worldly being decides its own fate.
Cold air whistles acquainting
me with Arctic Blast, when
roundly forcing acquiescing
into half foursquare corner, activating
most recent spate of
ideal linkedin warm weather
ah...,my favorite sweet
spot for read ding
partially secluded from
gossip mongers addicting
fellow nosy residents,
who rarely brave elements
of style lush nature addressing
natural environment, sans leaving
comfort of their hermetically
sealed apartment adhering
to zero risk exposure
even during pitch
perfect weather adjusting
cessation to renouncing
"cabin fever" administering
most potent panacea
for heavenly solar fling
nay, most every tenant
here at Highland Manor
prefers vicariously admiring
terrestrial flora and
fauna, even when nature
bursts forth with adoring
"The Rite of Spring" adorning
the snapchat buzz zee
flight of the Bumble Bee
the still frozen, yet slowly aerating
rib rock solid state terra
firmae slowly alleviating
thick slabs of iced over terrain
indiscriminately allocating
patch of landscape
legion limitless almsgiving
then as instagram dusk
preempts afternoon alternating
cathartic, fantastic,
and iambic anesthetizing
magic, opportunistic, and therapeutic
reverie blitzed, viz banshee screaming
mother nature's wound
dead spirit expressing
agony dost vent wrath
heartfelt lament vacillates, manifests,
and explodes analogous
qua red bull who readily
didst get smitten angling
to expunge anguishing
cumulative racking torment
hell bent on annihilating
primate responsible species
akin to a silent spring announcing
slow but inexorable annulling
guardian (nee abuser) role usurped
by *****sapiens,
who need answer
for relentlessly antagonizing
writhing, lowing, and bristling
Planet Earth!
Oh! That anguishing moment! When I craved to cry,
And pour my tears, like monsoon rains, on some grass dry;
A bit away, hence, from the madding crowd, I went,
To soothe my grieving heart; give benevolent vent...
A hard hand hit my shoulder and commanding, said:
You're a man! Should not cry! Calm! Courage! Go ahead!
We, in our culture taunt, tease, torture girls, torment,
No shame? Showing off before strangers? You pretend!
Go! Wipe tears Apply talcum on your plastic face!
Lest those around judge you an empty broken vase!
Our girls, hence, tie pains like ghosts in their sari-knot,
Paint their faces with multi-color smiles, a lot.
Children! Gems! Never cry! If cry... Bad boys! Bad girls!
Satan is making home in you! His freedom whirls!
Why do angels crave things, like beggars full of greed?
Why, like dramatic artists - fussy tantrums breed?
God's watching like a hawk! Behave! Be virtuous!
Your movement should be angelic! Care! Courteous!
Yet, deaths, dangers, droughts, floods earthquakes for many years,
Have made us shed, like rain torrents, abundant tears;
All who gently hushed up feelings like shut memos,
Have melt into tears as though from lavas or snows;
Seeing harsh callous actions if we do not cry,
God's creating such rich tears has no purpose high.
Dogs cry. Horses cry. Birds, flies, and reptiles cry too,
Feelings, like dew-drops, fill and fall when we're in woe;
Sentiments secrete like wild streams within our hearts,
Full-fledged; flow like fluent falls; finely flits and flirts;
Stopping these, is, like building dams over rivers,
Wherein - water waves; caves; crashes; ripple-triggers...
Holding tears may be raw romantic! Dramatic!
Yet, its nature is to flow and fall full frantic.
Brain stressed; heartbeat skipped! Breath blocked! Body traumatized!
Muscles, nerves, and blood vessels stiff antagonized;
Nature has ways of venting pain and suffering,
Thwarting this is, just like her freedom plundering.
18 August 2021
This or That, Vol 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Languishing within seed was a gigantic tree,
interned through genetic code by the almighty,
furtive, stay buried, to withstand time’s vagary,
ever can human tasks equal this mystery?
streams of ants, leaf flags,will not pause till job done!
Moon shines bright and white, travels over dark night sky,
year recounts seasons as earth spins around the Sun,
streaks of lights like meteors, stop! admire! firefly!
tiny pollens make fruits, invite bees with nectar!
eggs with flimsy shells! but withstand a heavy storm!
rivers hold million lives, flowing miles, mountains far,
innumerable are these wonders out us to charm!
each of us like specks of dust in this universe,
souls unseen tied to God, creation so diverse!
2nd placement
written 05/Dec/ 2020
reformatted to 12 syllables for the contest! 12/12/2020
Life’s Mysteries acrostic poetry contest
John Hamilton sponsored
14 lines with abab, cdcd, efef, gg 12 syllables each line!
Language So Learned Begins
I always thought it too audacious to think myself a poet-born but I tried it at age ten then my mother laughed rattling my precious penned paper as she pronounced from her parent-throne “No, your brother’s the natural writer not you” from her ken of always reading in our house of nearly half a thousand books all read so I supposed she’d know
and I took the dare
throwing myself into a learning to love the language from its rules to its rhythms the synonyms and rhymes origins and designs for pleasure or political leadership inspirations there came so many nights
I wept almost uncontrollably with my eyes aside Alfred Lord Tennyson’s anguishing “in Memoriam” I thought Oh Lord what your created Word has left to do? I’d teach myself
beginning 23-years of writing journals and trying all the genres humility wrenching all my turns getting published with prizes but still I gave up on my perseverance as well as myself
until two years ago
when I met another poet Charlie Cooper who moved me back to my voice as it rushed from its prison cell breathing all the straight-jacketed phrases with their thoughts aflame
in time’s wisdom
to spell them out til I declare I am a poet-born as I sensed I always was made to be a natural writer of this so very loved language all it says does inspires songs even prayers of our souls too the desperate hearts who must lie alone to share words to walls but do remember language lives as it was made Alive to listening as well as speaking the voices even long imprisoned
the Word made flesh died but rose redeeming
our voices do not forget
their stories go forth among the generations
our voices are heard
********. *********. *********. ********
(c)sally Young eslinger 12/31/20
Thanks be to God
Please also read my poem “Then Came the Lady in Blue”
*** RATE THE BATTLE ***
Rate your pain, they always want to know,
On a scale of one (least) to ten (worst — “like hell,” they say),
Although, I think, that should be reversed, because at
One, first, this pain is anguishing; wanting to be foremost;
Rooted under everything.
I see a numbered One level pain as insipid, blocking out life —
Like an iceberg
Able to sink a ship; with there being
One, only one way eyes feel when popping out from such pain;
One level of invasive emotional or physical pain that
Makes the soul groan and
The lips try to repeatedly keep their shortened breaths
Whispering, “Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord…”
At One, or Ten (by their scale again now), I refuse
To imagine even a peek into hell.
I refuse to walk on a bed of flaming embers. Blut, at
Nine, I might lay bare on a bed of unpolished, sharply-cut lapis,
Trying to picture some promise of miraculous beauty
Underlying the monstrous pain.
A Nine would keep me in a self-induced trance of complete
Stillness,
Holding my breath, before I’d let it consume all my humor; and
I’d try, yet again, to find praises in the suffering;
Wherein, too, Faith in God can bring the strength and hope
To survive the scales of pain
In favor of the whole spirit’s long on-going,
Felt rise in gratitude.
(Deut. 9: 1-3)
————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 12/10/2022
Thanks be to God…
Health care begins when we listen to internal signals.
Oxygen in air we inhale gives energy for body functions,
Living is then set to a rhythm by routine exercise.
Ingredients of the food we eat chosen with care,
Self-temperance is then the key to good physical shape.
Tasting with liking each wholesome bite for nutrition,
Intuitive awareness helps choose the healthy options,
Comprehended sensibly these silently nurture the whole.
Hydration in ample measure washes the body inside out.
Enthusing vigor revives through rest after tiring times,
As the inner clock aligns with the advent of the dawn,
Languishing nerves are lavishly suffused by the sunshine.
Turning worry into prayer time offers the divine care,
Hopeful mind rests calmly poised with the trust in God.
bub-blub tump-tump-tump-tump
I was bitten by my wrong choices;
Invited and enticed by my voices;
The ineptitude seemed happy portraying, beating heart
In there stepped desperate loneliness, bleeding heartbeats
Of unfortunates that are decaying
chess rising WAIT this isn't NO game
My breath is wet; I'm drowning in shame
Lungs full of sin watering
Yet I'm breathing;
Still is neighing, still is neighing
I discovered the storms
blub-blub tump-tump-tump-tump
~
The ineptitude seemed happy portraying, beating heart
In there stepped desperate loneliness, bleeding heartbeats
'It's that grief,' I muttered sorrowed I was born
Death shall bring injustices
There stood a pivotal upstart
And so you came gently jingling (onomatopoeia) my heart.
And the core never minding disgusted
To warn me about the sadness
Somewhat louder than the kick start
The ineptitude seemed happy portraying, beating heart
I discovered the storms
'It's that grief,' I muttered
Death shall bring injustices
There stood a pivotal upstart.
~
And so you came gently jingling (onomatopoeia)
And the core never minding
To warn me about the sadness
Somewhat louder than the kick start
By the grave, I saw the ignominies
And the despair never anguishing
The desperate dissoluteness dismaying
Of unfortunates that are decaying
I have dreamed of the feelings
The sensitive smelling
All my soul within me telling
Much I marvelled this bittersweet heart
The ineptitude seemed happy portraying, beating heart
In there stepped a desperate loneliness, bleeding heartbeats
blub-blub tump-tump-tump-tump
6/22/20
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©