Long Brittle Poems
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I sat too long in a window watching as life passed me by
Consumed by fear or feeling ashamed to try
Often I wonder what magic did those lost days’ hold
Did I miss out on a life larger, greater and bold?
I forgot that I told myself that one day I would be someone
But so much life has passed that someone just didn’t become
A shadow who footsteps disappear in the night
Avoiding a reflection dulled over time & still laden with fright
I watched my dreams blow away with the wind
Dissolve into todays, brittle and thin
I try not to ponder on “what if’s” and regrets
Those mid mornings thoughts, run-away frets
Of unclimbed mountains and loves that didn’t last
My faults still haunt me and unearth a hidden past
Now I sit at the window with the time in my mind
Each precious minute I left so, so far behind.
He says, "No soul will hear my cry..
No hand will catch the tears I dry."
He says he shines, he says he gives..
But in his chest, no kindness lives.
He paints with smiles, a brittle hue..
Yet every laugh he speaks is blue.
He throws his echoes to the skies..
And begs the void for sweet replies.
But I... I bleed across the page..
Each word a wound, each line a cage;
And though he claims the world is blind..
My broken verses hold their minds.
They read, they ache, they weep, they fall..
They shatter mirrors off the wall.
No cheers, no crowds, no roaring fame..
Just hollow hearts that know my name.
He says, "You’re lonely." I say, "See..
The world is silent.. but it breathes me."
It wraps my sorrow in its sleep..
It buries pain where shadows creep.
So let him shout into the sun..
My whispers weigh a thousand tons.
No need for noise, no need for cheers..
I own the silence and the tears.
one late night in the grip of a super moon, captivated by the elegance of
the season in an even slumber with bulbs sleeping on the brink of winter.
we surrender our senses to the alluring view and feel of this exclusive new.
autumn in its evening gown, its hibernating blooms, its brittle bark and rusted grass
in repose with sleeveless branches against a midnight sky and in a hovering haze.
wrapped in a multi colored coat of changing leaves and scattered acorns to gather
we walk on air enticed by the flow of a cooling breeze in the warmth of what is we.
Maurice Yvonne
September 6 2014
One Autumn Night (in seven lines)
CONTEST FOR LINDA
Freedom ~ an inked kingdom
of macabre mirrors,
a vermiform lie
veiling the vehement suffering
amidst serpent estuaries,
surging within strangled skin,
as if I am the living sin,
jinxed by the crawling creatures
in the lamented labyrinth
of deceitful dreams,
inhaling venomous vapors
rising from the cursed creeks
that failed to caress
the brittle bones of delirious dawn,
where the nocturnal owl
sits, phasing stellar phantoms
on tattered twigs,
oblivious to the piercing pain I breathe,
as poetry feels like
a somatic hallucination,
a reflection of the phoenix crescent,
a dialect the naive can never comprehend,
the voice of truth,
the jaded outline of mortality,
can never interpret~
as the last sacred light of twilight
r e m a i n s
unmarked and lost to the Earth.
O wicked wind beneath
the crestfallen wings
of cruising constellations,
will this piece of paper save me
from the maleficent violets
in the spitfire blaze
of stigmatized stars?
I am stuck ~ hell-bound,
troubled placing my
tongue on Freyja’s chalice of tears,
for I feel oblivion closer than death,
I taste the flames of Tartarus,
I dance with demons,
I sing to the malevolent moon,
I see in distorted dimensions.
But would the ignorant know
I hear beyond what’s spoken,
in search of Eden and love?
I give gratitude to your God,
but the veiled care not~
this is beyond the making
of a self-forged inferno.
I am the harbinger of harmony,
my soul aches
to paint your scarlet spheres
in butterfly bliss,
praying in secret
that the deviant daggers in my spine
would blossom into russet roses,
their petals ~ like an elixir
to my paranoid psyche,
paralyzed in the
catacomb chaos of insanity,
as the scorpion Sun
k i s s e s
me one more time
with sweetened poison.
While you,
the spectators of this twisted spectacle,
condemn my insomniac aura
to stain the essence of my existence
with condescending colors,
unaware that
introspection is a powerful weapon~
all blood is blue,
and we breathe hypocrisy
scrutinizing the unknown....
Written 24, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Politics Contest
___________________________________
Politics is what triggers nations to collide.
A place where power and ambition coincide.
Oh, the acrimony of aspiring to be a politician.
To navigate the hazardous tides and mission
The first thing they master is to never say yes.
Since the thrill of politics is rife with impress.
You're required to dazzle, prevail, and flourish.
And convince the populace, inspire, and nourish.
A campaign—a search for fans, a quest to know
Promising alternatives, with a chance to show
What the population genuinely desires
That you may fulfill their wishes and inspire.
They express their imprint on the political stage.
A lively hug, a brittle society, a burning cage
Should no cotillion of stigmas, no excision of a few.
To avoid immoral speech and unsavory eschew.
Gone are the days when luring was hard.
Now, with the gift of persuasion, you can discard,
Human minds have evolved, times have changed,
But darkness and sin have also been arranged.
We operate in harmony, never to stigmatize.
We prize no demimondaine, no social pragmatize
In the history of our society, there are evil deeds.
We embrace the ideals of brotherhood and creed.
Red and blue are our only choices.
Divisions and conflicts, our society's voices,
Genocide, broken treaties, and illness
Insulting names, cultural destruction, and distress
We envy to induce people not to become illiterate.
We may spur elders and penurious, if considerate,
No sectarianism or partying; no debating whence.
Yet, in a culture where virtue is of high precedence
I can't walk in my niche, yet I'm apprehensive.
Politics and society as a whole are impressive.
Courteous decisions are diplomatic and wise.
For the commonweal betterment, we devise
In this smooth domain, where everyone is heard,
We build a society that stands undeterred.
integrated society, a beacon of hope,
Where harmony and justice in a melody cope.
Nighttime falls shrouded dark and spiritless,
Wavering fire a glaze dying cinder.
In grim silence tears ebb and flow aimless,
Lips quake angry filled breath growing dimmer.
Loneliness devours inch by inch loves amber,
Left raw to feel the flesh stretch. Brittle crust
Steady smoldering embers, numb anger,
Solace grieving soul filled volcanic dust.
It worsens with the tick-tock of the clock.
None can replace time, not a second in
A day hidden beneath insensate lock.
Days overwhelming calamities sin.
Loneliness niggles as the mind wanders
Bound by loves suffering also ponders.
1/14/2020
"doors"
I consider you
in the silence,
different you think;
but I think
no,
not so different;
blood is red,
skin and bones,
lost mouths,
denial lies
naked and bashful
in a world of shame
looking for home
wars
come and go
the fallout
makes us brittle
we shatter
are made
again in the
breaking of us
we consider
higher things
to be reached for
some remain
cemented
feet glued, below
the notes
rise
like letters,
the heart
forming a body
in words
that sing
open
or close
doors
(LadyLabyrinth /2023)
You sockdologizing old man-trap long decayed
where claws curl tight in dust and brittle bone
your lies are hyenas dancing in the flame
their jaws a rattle tearing flesh to stone
their laughter cracks the silence and the name
of truth that bleeds until the world has grown
as hollow as the bones they gnaw upon
each tooth a dagger that breaks the heart to dawn
beneath your skin a hunger spills and swells
its teeth are rust its eyes a fevered glow
it gnashes bone until the broken tells
of sins that fester deep where no one knows
your hollow self a wind that pulls and wells
the hunger of a lion’s endless throes
and in your voice a low and raspy cry
that cracks the earth and cracks the brittle sky
beneath the skin your hunger splits the bone
its grasp a vice that crushes what it seeks
the stars fall silent cold and overthrown
their light consumed in frantic, bloodstreaked streaks
the air is thick with death and poisoned stone
where hunger howls beneath the shadowed peaks
yet still in your trap the pulse of truth will grind
a seed that's sown then left to twist and rise
your walls of lies are dust beneath the weight
of hunger’s edge and all that once was wise
though still you chase the fading spark of fate
your fingers crushed beneath the weight of mind
from soil once cursed where hate was built to last
the truth will rise unbroken and unmasked
for lies may hunt but truth though torn and scarred
is cut deep and rips your sockdologizing heart trap apart
Jacaranda's
A gap in the sky where Jacaranda's bloomed,
Just yesterday, only yesterday, yes yesterday!
I awoke to chainsaw screeching,
Rising and falling like crows screaming.
The groan of branches brittle with age,
The sharp crack as big bones break;
The whoosh of castles of leaves flailing,
The crashing fall of life unwanted,
The whisper as a tree is stunted.
Did you hear the crack, the crash, the cruelty?
Did you feel the breaking, breathless, dying?
I feel it in my bones, that premonition of crying,
I hear it in my heart, that soulful sound of moaning;
And in my head the whispers,
Of loss, of loss, of loss, of loss;
Trees falling, crying and dying;
People losing sight in the rising pyre,
Blinded by the smoke of brash hunger
Greed overcoming life's rightful fire.
From the rigid stubborn mountain
through chasms oozing free fountain.
Frolic fall broke in brook again,
shake pebbles, make way in stream.
River flows fulfilling dream.
Little brittle ripples to dance
River runs, waves propagate, prance,
soak soil of banks and enhance
deposit alluvial !
Vegetation survival.
Ripples roll in rhythmic patterns
Ebb and Tide to come up by turn.
In zig -zag line , river to run..
Up-down going water flow.
from ebb to tide , high or low.
Rivers stir water fast or slow,
ruffling shuffling the speed of flow
Boatman free to float boat and row,
whirls water on stroke of oar,
waves to hit and thrash on shore.
River always rushing restless
vibrant, dynamic and ceaseless.
Aqua flow runs in opulence.
River flows for forever-
Next, what is its behaviour ?
'whatever? then and then?
what to happen?’
'It mixes with ocean
on unison.’