Long Boxed Poems
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BRUISED STAR
You can not make omelette
Without breaking some eggs,
There is no Star
Without a scar
And the indelible scar
Of every sky-laid star
Keeps him on a par
With them who holds power;
Power to a creative clay
Is power kept in a boxed explosive
Which births the rise
And fall of men.
Human is not an error
But to error is human,
Swept sparingly away
In flooding ferocious sins,
Aeons of unrepenting pains
Foolish tattered tears
Coated with swirling fears,
Fog of confusion gathers momentum,
Heard from the blackened bars,
Parted were the dark clouds
As the plethora of light pierces.
Stars can't shine without darkness
But in their stride
They take all the rain daggers
To become the hero
That create a legacy
And rewrite history
Without a pen.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2015
WRESTLING I
Sitting still and wondering if there is light to come,
Not perfect with my creator but he always strengthens me,
This is me, not you, not him, not her and mostly not them,
Sometimes we battle with life and my combat started since birth and that’s me,
Always boxed in and isolated, that’s my life stamp, to say.
Lucky enough I went seasons and episodes from bad, worse to worst, Damn what a villain!
At my unremembered age and time, life was at a suicide door still not sure why the door closed on me, Only God knows,
Dead walking but alive and appreciating my presence at the moment,
Cries and screams is my on-repeat song; we live like that us the outcasts,
Sometimes I think am dreaming and will wake up one day and find it’s a better world,
Scanned my memory and found its clear of grudges, and that’s a win for me!
Some So-called wise man once told me to live ordinary, I still wonder what he meant,
Being an intellectual and praised by many, he advised me to be unknown to my ages and others, to ask? was that knowledge given? I don’t know to this day,
My identity is unauthorized and unclear to me and those close to me, in mind and many databases if you get what I mean,
Saw a country hero manipulated by opposite gender and that’s weakness and cowardice really, and that’s my view,
Pride kills and heard some die with it, that’s a lesson from the elders I pray it goes beyond and reaches.
Self-caring has taught me to always believe in the uncertainties,
Never had mutual talks with my folks, scattered here and there so strangers have free access,
Thankful, God and my guardian angels always at work, Father Bless those goodies that always have us at heart, Bless them abundantly,
Chaos, Dramas and the unworthy don’t take a sit at our table, that’s a fact and I got many rejections so hope your happy am not at it,
Heavy hearts take endless pain day by day and here we are my brother and my sister so don’t give up yet, till grave time as it’s only the final destination earthly.
TO THE WRESTLERS WOLRDWIDE
Kansas is the home of the tornado and the deer
I did not fully appreciate this until I moved here
I see them in my yard bashing my bird feeders round
When they break, the deer lick the feed off the ground.
Raccoon mamas come to my porch at night.
Their babies stay just slightly out of my sight.
The Raccoon mamas fight over cat food on the ground.
I sit and watch, and laugh, as they slap each other around.
I live next to a marsh, where boxed turtles live in droves.
They come up in the spring, and hide amid my bushes, rose.
I learned my lesson well, picking up one to help it go back.
He tried to snap my fingers off as I tried to help it track.
Fox is rare, but I have seen her white tail disappear into brush.
There are opossums all over this place, never in a rush.
Cardinals, blue jays, robins, and wrens appear at my feeders.
Eagles overhead, show me they are the sky leaders.
So Kansas is not all tornadoes, as I used to think before
I bought my woods, and began to see these animals I adore.
A bobcat once I did see here in the early morning dawn.
It ran like a dog, was silent, and ran straight for a fawn.
The deer are fast, and can out jump any kind of fence.
So I was not worried, and I have not seen that bobcat since.
Snakes? Oh, goodness yes, I have taken them from cat’s mouth.
Baby ones, not poisonous, is that one heading south?
I feel eyes peering and peeking at me every single day.
I live in a house surrounded by deep woods of oak, very gray.
Frogs? Yes. Toads? Absolutely. Skinks too, looking like newts.
The Kansas Wildlife seems to interact. always in cahoots.
Philippines was the place
the date was set
between two outstanding gladiators
who had already twice met
the champ stood proud
ready to shock the world once more
his voice rang loud
his conceitedness soared
"I am the greatest"
these words meant so much
in his era he was the greatest
with nothing gentle about his touch
Smokin' Joe Frazier
an equal opponent to the throne
no other boxer could match
the attributes he'd shown
the first of October
1975 was the year
both ready to "Rumble In the Jungle"
neither man showed fear
at 10:45 in the morning
their rubber match began
when the first round started
Ali had the upper hand
but Joe Frazier would outlast
the punishment he'd received
when the fifth round started
Joe's gloves were smokin' indeed
the champ endured the test of will
being out boxed for six rounds
Frazier threw blows with skill
his strength showed no bounds
in the twelfth round
Ali regained control
showing the will of a champion
attacking Fraziers soul
at the end of the fourteenth round
Frazier could stand no more
Eddie Futch threw in the towel
the capacity crowd began to roar
-----"Man I hit him with punches that'd
bring down the walls of a city"
Frazier said.
Lawdy, Lawdy, he's a great champion
---------Ali said, " It was like death"
"Closest thing to dying that I know of"
..........JP
Indigenous woman—rarely accompanied by their
white sisters—or their men enter
through the side door
of St. Peter’s Church.
Here they are boxed in cool stucco,
and stained-glass. A flock of Mexican
Madonna’s shift today to encompass
their fairer sister:
Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo.
Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es
el fruto de tu vientre:,Jesús.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is
the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros,
pecadores, ahora y en la hora ...
drones on—and on—and on
within the heavenly heights of gilded frescos—bleeding—
rainbows prism the room in false light, kaleidoscoping upon
the walls—murals of brocade, gold-threaded catch random rays.
Woman anchor the pews with their desires—
Pliant and pleading these mothers beseech Mary to intercede:
for first class citizenship (inside and outside the Church)
for work, for health, for a better life for their children.
Voices of the lamb bleating; dinner for the wolves, they pray.
SHORT SHRIFT-little or no attention or consideration
Tonight the sky that once
became a blackboard of my
dream gradually loves the dark.
The vast black heaven in the
night of sorrow is the haven of
the twinkling stars.
But their brightness is
diminishing.
They somehow make my heart
happy
For I am made to think that they
give succor to me
They grieve over my reproach.
On this similar hour of the past I
held her hand
As my lips gently touched her
forehead.
On this same time too
I warmly hugged her
And she responded with a sweet
smile at me.
Sweet moments of how I really
loved her are boxed in my
memory.
Someone already owns her,
Like her heart that has
previously forgotten, I will also
disremember our love.
Tonight I see the starry sky,
The sound of waves that crash
onto the shore is forlorn
And the wind of the night has
indisposition.
Enough to feel the final pain she
had given me
And the last love song I offered
to her.
Translated by Bernard F.
Asuncion from Jez Rico Cuenta's
HULING KUNDIMAN
(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws
unless made irate, then yours truly
bares his sharp talons
on all of mine faux pas).
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate pet nicknames)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals,"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms),
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk hated lines
(and could track missing lynx),
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
I will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.
In the wake of the holidays
The hustle and bustle are no more,
And pieces of wrapping paper
No longer dance across the floor.
The bells are silent
Without donating a ring,
The rhythm of Christmas carols
We no longer sing.
Crumpled shopping lists
Adorn empty carts,
As new toys begin
To lose their small parts.
Decorations are taken down
And boxed up till next year,
Strangers pass by
With no greetings of cheer.
Stores offer big sales
On leftover stuff,
And New Year’s resolutions
Become very tough.
Santa hangs up his hat
As he fades quietly away,
Kids return to school
As routine returns the day.
A quiet calmness
Settles over the winter season,
As cabin fever sneaks in
Trapping us for no reason.
In the wake of the holidays
When the excitement slips away,
Its our credit cards
For the next year we pay.
Ghost/Box, Shiver/Gaze, Cold/Wicked
~~~~
The Spectre of a Bride
~~~~
It looked just like a quiet place
Though *cold and dark inside
I’d scorned all the haunting tales
Of a *ghostly spirit bride
I saw it hanging in the room
A cob web? old and stale?
But as I *gazed through dusky gloom
I saw a wedding veil
Beneath the veil a small pinched face
*Shivered with cold dead eyes
And from her pale and bloodless lips
She uttered whimp’ring cries
A crimson stain was on her dress
She clutched a dripping knife
And on the floor a body lay
New husband of this wife
I’d heard, of course. But not believed
The things that people said
How the *wicked groom betrayed his bride
And how she stabbed him dead
But now she’s *boxed inside this house
Where she can find no peace
For the girl who hanged for murder
The horrors never cease
I left this sad demented house
I left with no goodbye
For now I know behind these walls
A girl will ever cry
Push on through
The world is a scary place and there is nowhere left to hide;
The nightmares are hunting us down and they are crawling inside.
Run from your life, they are coming to get you;
Keep on going, push on through.
Do not allow yourself to become boxed in;
Caged inside a nightmare of a life, with no sight of a key.
Set yourself free from their bonds of security,
That keeps you trapped in debt without any hope of release.
Push on through to the other side of the night
And in dawns breaking light, you will save a life.
Save yourself from your home made evil;
Fight away the beast and search for all the beautiful people.
Go forth and multiply; this is the spell we are under.
Instincts so old, they are humanities goal
And they drive us into the arms of our lover.
Without a love to hold, this world would only kill those who do;
But with love we can make a change and push on through.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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