Long Dead and buried Poems
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Louis the Fifteenth, king of France,
Adored Madame du Barry.
His royal ardor was not bound
To the person he did marry.
His paramour was hard to please.
The king brooded day and night
On what act of loving kindness
Might appease her appetite.
One day he called his jeweller,
Whose face turned pale, then green,
When told to make a necklace
The likes of which no eyes had seen.
Vanity of vanities! Let nobody forget:
All humankind proposes yields to a Higher Will.
For the king lay dead and buried
When it was time to pay the bill.
They asked:' Who has got the money?
Who is there so rich
As to settle payment
And haul us from this ditch?
Louis the Sixteenth was now king,
But not long on the throne.
To purchasing the necklace
He himself was prone.
His wife strongly objected.
She thought the whole thing crazy.'
'We need to spend on self-defence:
More vessels for the navy!'
Now Cardinal De Rohan was a worldly priest,
Not averse to 'oo la la.'
Especially not in the matter of
Jeanne de la Motte Valois.
As a young girl she was naughty,
But she confessed in style.
The priest let her off counting rosary beads
All for the sake of her sweet winning smile.
Jeanne told the cardinal
They could have a sales deal signed
As friends at court had signaled
That the queen had changed her mind.
The queen and cardinal soon met
And the queen signed with aplomb.
De Rohan was too befuddled
To sense something was wrong
The queen received the necklace
But the queen was not the queen.
Charming though the lady was,
Who knew where she had been?
The necklace was picked to pieces
And sold off part by part.
O woeful desecration
Of this glorious objet d'art?
The cardinal faced the music
A victim of delusion
'Gullable, not guilty,'
came the court's conclusion.
Madame de la Motte Valois
Had no basis for a plea
And she was branded on both arms
With the letter V.
This letter stood for 'Voleuse,'
Meaning in English 'thief.'
Somehow she got to London,
And there she came to grief.
When fleeing from her creditors,
She fell from an upper floor.
Those creditors she did escape,
But only at death's door.
During her interment
Wagging tongues spoke of her guile
But someone chirped in her defence:
'But she had such a sweet winning smile.'
At night of the Hight of winter, when from the Netherlands comes the brutal sun, lightning without rain
and at the same time clouds with frost, rain for a while, hail, snow and wind of the elements, large and small.
No end in sight; it is a day with a change, storm of clouds, storm of winds, shipwreck, submarine, decomposition
and the four veils.
No beginning and no end.
WHEN the moon in the morning or at noon is as bright as an orb, or almost, and it becomes night before the fourth
evening of the lunar month.
I, to stand in your light as in a spotlight:
I to look into the eyes of a crescent: love, flame, bed. You, great, powerful, oh so distant, as luminous as stars.
A desert of fire. At night you search for me.
THE cypresss of the monasticism are under your feet, the nuns walking barefoot, when they keep time, when they sing
while tying themselves together and when they put their tongues to the left and to the right in the custom of zdrakas.
On the walls of their chapel, near the chapel and the curtain, there are female saints, goddesses, whom they adore,
and those that they cover with veils and they cover with gilded haws. It is as if they were entering a house and praying
in front of the altar. The angel of women, whom they saw in a dream and whom they know to be linked to the will of God,
blazed with stars when they looked at her.
To them she is a light, a light that penetrates them like the opening of a wound. And they throw their arms over her,
when they press her feet.
That is how they pray.
WHEN i heard them chanting, I felt like a stone, as if pierced by the time of their desires. The stones of the market of Damascus
by the way of the river.
How have they lived, with their desire, like dew in their eyes.
I, my feet up, the state of being crushed, felt also that I have attained my purpose and that nothing remains, nothing is more than dust,
nothing any longer is alive.
One wind against my whole body, threw me to dust.
These are days of longing, of vulnerability, of vulnerability. These days. I stand like a young woman in front of a mirror.
Who is that person staring at me? Someone long dead and buried.
Everything that had lasted for centuries is gone.
I am facing my own death.
:: 11.10.2020 ::
“The devil is alive”, someone yelled out. A congregation downing crosses crossed their hearts and prayed to God to extinguish the devil. Right then and there, a sensation ran from my toes to my head and I knew it was coming. But it couldn’t come, at least not then. So I constricted my hateful body and willed it to listen to me, but it wasn’t working. Desperate and afraid, my voice sprung to life. “Miss… Miss”, I tried again, “Miss Ava”. “Miss Ava!”.
“Shush, child.” At some point during the commotion she had come to stand beside me. She looked out to the crowd of men and women with firm determination and addressed them carefully. “Friends, why have you gathered here?”
A man at the forefront completely covered in black stepped forward. “Miss Ava, you are a devout God-fearing woman. You would not have me believe it has influenced you. That you have been corrupted by this devil.” His words sent the crowd into a fury rumble. Voices bounced off each other and somewhere in there someone mentioned father had been possessed by the devil. For he was not a man to give into worldly temptations.
Miss Ava stepped forward as though some silent consensus had been reached. The men with their torches and ropes stepped forward. And I called out to Miss Ava but she never once glanced back, only hesitated in her steps, but nonetheless persisted in her retreat. Tied to the pillar, the house and my body were engulfed in flames and mercilessly eaten alive. Skin, flesh, and bones were reduced to nothing but ashes; every trace of our existence gone in the blink of an eye. Dead and buried without it even costing a single dime.
That night a wild storm hit. The wind raged and howled like a wild beast constrained. In it’s wake, 10 lives were claimed including Miss Ava’s. My story became a folklore, something children and grown folks (who should’ve known better) told each other to scare one another as though it never happened. They passed it off as The Curse of the Devil, but that was far from the real story. Now you know my story, I hope yours is as happy as mine. I mean it. Really, I do.
Click. Send. Are you sure you want to publish this story? Yes.
Mary Jane stretched and yawned. “Ahh, after five years of wandering around aimlessly, I can finally rest in peace.”
In old Jerusalem near cross and sepulcher
Transgressors and confessors searching for a cure
Weary Pilgrims assembled in this place ornate
Guilty, broken, sad, sickened, from life’s heavy weight
Here we remember how our sin once did molest
How selfish deeds and hateful thoughts God does detest
Yet for us sinners Christ in love performed His grace
His sacrificial work makes this a holy place
Somewhere near here religion organized deceit
They drug him to the pavement to make his end complete
Somewhere near here truth was twisted, justice denied
Somewhere near here, misinformed, crucified they cried
Somewhere near here with cruel whip his back was beat
Somewhere near here Rome drove nails in Christ’ hands and feet
Somewhere near here the savior wore thorns for a crown
Somewhere near here the savior’s blood trickled down
Somewhere near here they punctured a sword in his side
Somewhere near here for our sin our blessed savior died
Somewhere near here, hanging shamefully on a cross
Jesus was sacrificed to restore human loss
Here listening to vile words the crowd did sputter
An announcement of forgiveness he did utter
Here on these grounds the lamb without blemish or flaw
Orchestrated the salvation the Father foresaw
The execution done His body was removed
The task was now completed, the Father approved
In a tomb near here his slaughtered corpse was encased
Still, dead, and buried, His accomplishments erased
For three days in the dark of the earth he did lay
While the Sabbath left His friends to mourn in dismay
But on the third day, somewhere near here, before dawn
There came a rumble and He awoke without yawn
Somewhere near here before the daylights detection
Breath was restored in mighty resurrection
The women and the disciples saw him near here
Then to more than five-hundred he dared to appear
I’m quite impressed with these walls and decorations
But they provoke neither joy nor celebration
For I’m on a journey to see the saviors face
And perhaps that’s the lesson of this wondrous place
For nails, nor cross, rocks, or cave can keep Jesus still
Resurrected our savior moves around at will
He will not be confined to places around here
But where ever we go our living Lord is near.
Once upon a time there was a young girl,
who lived in a huge mansion with many rooms;
And although quite young,
She was about to be married.
On her wedding day she wore her mother's dress,
It was a wondrous gown of ivory lace and beads;
She became bored with all the waiting and waiting,
So, she decided to play a game.
Her favorite game of hide and seek,
And so she went to find a hiding place;
Into rooms she ran giggling like a child,
She wanted a new place to hide,
Not the ones that everyone knew about already.
Family and friends searched and searched for her,
They looked in every room and closet in the house;
The woods and area were searched,
The nearby lake was considered to.
But she had disappeared it seemed and that was it,
Stories were told for years about the mysterious girl;
Some thought she had just ran away in fear of marriage,
There was never an answer to the story.
Years passed and the tale faded in the telling,
And soon all that family was dead and buried;
And the mansion was sold to new owners,
The house need repairs and renovations;
So workers were hired and the work began in earnest.
One day the workers went up into an attic room,
And there they saw a trunk and they thought perhaps;
It held a treasure that they could steal,
They tried to open the trunk but could not.
So the men went to get something to pry it with,
A crowbar was used and finally the lid was opened;
And the men peered inside the trunk and screamed,
For inside was a small curled up skeleton.
The skeleton was wearing a wedding dress,
A wedding dress of ivory lace and beads;
They ran away and never said a word,
And she still lays within that attic trunk.
But the chilling twist is this - now she haunts the house,
Wearing her beautiful wedding gown;
and all she wants - is to play hide and seek.
____________________________
July 28, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Ivory Lace and Beads
Copyright Protected, ID 15-695-444-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
"He was a brave, resourceful and honest boy. He would have been a successful man under
other circumstances. I loved the youngster in the old days and can say now after the passing
fifty years that I still love his memory. He has gained an unfair and undeserved reputation.
Most of the stories told about him are simply not true at all. He was born into poor
circumstances and did what he did to get by. He was a thousand times better and braver
than any man hunting him." - George Coe, close friend
He was a remarkable boy. Far above the average of the young men of those times and he
undoubtedly had the making of a fine man in him." - Susan McSween, close friend
He had a great personality and could ingratiate himself in people's good graces very quickly.
He had laughing blue eyes, always smiling or laughing, very accommodating and good
hearted. He had an innocent timid look and all of this took with the girls at once."
- Lily Casey Klasner, resident
"All the wrongs have been charged to him, yet we who really knew him know that he was
good and had fine qualities. We have not put our impressions of him into print and our
silence has been the cause of great injustice to him." - Martin Chavez, close friend
"He (The one who killed him) was afraid to go back into the room to make sure of whom he
had shot. I went in and was the first to discover that they had killed my little boy. I hated
those men and I'm glad I've lived long enough to see them all dead and buried."
- Deluvina Maxwell, very close friend
"He has gained an undeserved and unfair reputation to this very day,
and so his truest to life story written poetically is my mission to set the record straight."
- William A Cleator, Me
****************************************************************************
That last quote of mine actually does rhyme poetically,
and so that justifies my posting all of these documented quotes from history
about this well known historical figure, but who is he?
****************************************************************************
To Continue Go To
2. "Quien es?" "Who is it?" Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195856
The Lighter
When the passage of life seem so dark
Filled with agony, regrets and mistakes
Nowhere to turn to, crying for help
Voices end up brown by the whirlwind without response
Ears have been brooked by the cacophony that comes
From within the society
Poverty, violence and drug abuse seems to be an inheritance
From Ancestors or forefathers
Norms and Values of our tradition have become invalid
Please! Please! Can someone light my path?
What a mysterious journey
The journey that has imprecise destination
Every mile that passes by, Hope is fading away
Due to inscrutable ways of life
Phobia is now invading the hearts of men
It really looks so squalid to my eyes
The journey is too long and too dark to be certain of the future
Men now kill and drink their own blood to survive
Deviant behavior is now acceptable in our society
Lives are now in shambles and dismantled
Where are those day of serene in our country
Mama, Oh mama light our path
Talk about the incurable and irreversible curse
The curse which no one knows its genesis
Whether from God, Devil or our Ancestors
It has claimed many lives of our brothers, Sisters, parents and friends
To dust and ashes
As human beings become careless, it increases its
Power and speed in destroying lives of our loved ones
Who shall redeem our generation, when even the obvious we not escape from it
Mama, Oh mama light our path
Oh yes there is a light, I can now see clearly, the dead and buried hope has resurrected
Dry Dreams have now tasted flesh waters. Better and prosperous future is now certain
In this dark and cruel world, I never thought I could find a Mother as loving and caring as you
When I was rejected and abandoned, you have taken me as your own son
Treated me equal with your children
When everyone misunderstood me, you listened to my simple and sad story
Each day wishing that you could see the tears of joy and hope
Being shed within my heart.
Thank MAMA; you have touched lives and you are truly the LIGHTER
In this dark passage of life
Tony The Poet
Anthony Ngabwe
One quick snap I'm cognizant, no standing in this
place, in pitch black dark I lay can't see my hand
before my face,
my wingspan's non existent, cushioned wood up by
my head, the sayers nay have fine'lly gone and
buried me for dead.
They should've checked my pulse before they shut
the coffin top, attempts to leave me like they do these
young'ns off the block,
but haters are so sloppy otherwise they'd know for
sure, my heart is truly still before the final coup de
jour.
I don't know how much time has passed since I was
buried deep, the casket lid is weak, I feel the dirt and
moisture seep,
through cracks unseen, it's blasphemy to think that
I'd succumb, I'll resurrect my being cause I'm
nume'ro dos to none.
I use my knees to break apart the lid atop my cage,
the soft'ning soil drizzles down onto my suit clad
frame,
I claw my way through earth ignoring parts that
scream with pain, my right hand breaks the plain to
feel the rush of streaming rain.
The nighttime air is filled with all the power of my
core, they left me dead and buried so I'll give them
all what for,
and resurrect myself to fit the image of the gods, a
total metamorphasis in spirit, mind and bod.
My words will wrap around you like a python,
squeeze you tight, enough to make your ribcage
splinter til you bleed inside,
don't hide behind requests for mercy, it was meant
to be, which may convincingly convert my friends to
enemies.
Committed sins I will atone to climb life's hill alone,
with skills from off the dome I turn my foes to
skinless bones,
a mind as warped as mine will kill em all and steal
the throne, decapitate the king and have his
cabbage sealed in stone.
I sit now on my grave with fractured personalities,
there's Donald Rhymus, Tony Stanza, JD's R.I.P.,
I then begin to scream out to the thunderstorm I see,
like Al Pacino on the steps, the end, GodFather 3,
I'm not a joker still, wait til they get a load of me!
The Lighter
When the passage of life seem so dark
Filled with agony, regrets and mistakes
Nowhere to turn to, crying for help
Voices end up brown by the whirlwind without response
Ears have been brooked by the cacophony that comes
From within the society
Poverty, violence and drug abuse seems to be an inheritance
From Ancestors or forefathers
Norms and Values of our tradition have become invalid
Please! Please! Can someone light my path?
What a mysterious journey
The journey that has imprecise destination
Every mile that passes by, Hope is fading away
Due to inscrutable ways of life
Phobia is now invading the hearts of men
It really looks so squalid to my eyes
The journey is too long and too dark to be certain of the future
Men now kill and drink their own blood to survive
Deviant behavior is now acceptable in our society
Lives are now in shambles and dismantled
Where are those day of serene in our country
Mama, Oh mama light our path
Talk about the incurable and irreversible curse
The curse which no one knows its genesis
Whether from God, Devil or our Ancestors
It has claimed many lives of our brothers, Sisters, parents and friends
To dust and ashes
As human beings become careless, it increases its
Power and speed in destroying lives of our loved ones
Who shall redeem our generation, when even the obvious we not escape from it
Mama, Oh mama light our path
Oh yes there is a light, I can now see clearly, the dead and buried hope has resurrected
Dry Dreams have now tasted flesh waters. Better and prosperous future is now certain
In this dark and cruel world, I never thought I could find a Mother as loving and caring as you
When I was rejected and abandoned, you have taken me as your own son
Treated me equal with your children
When everyone misunderstood me, you listened to my simple and sad story
Each day wishing that you could see the tears of joy and hope
Being shed within my heart.
Torn muscle are repaired to form a new flesh
Dislocation of my bones rejoined on their joints again
Separation is now dead and buried for good
I am left to be a star to rise
I am born again to be the witness to confirm that when He say yes no one can say no
I am blessed to testify His grace that fell upon me
I am proud to stand and say to the devil you are a liar
I am baptized to salute His will and obey His rules
I am a reason star to shine
I am ambassador of His great embassy
The light of the world to adore the scriptures
I am healed to declare the power in his blood
Like His apostles I grow in faith to abid his resurrection
I am called His child because in His house I dwell forever
I am the star to rise and I am risen
Like Peter and James I believe I possessed the power to heal lames
Like David I sing and praise His name for as long as I live
Like the Samaritan woman I cried so loud and repent from my sins
Like Lazarus I believe that he will raise from the dead my humble heart
Far from his house but spiritually closer to be one with brethrens
For I know that he loved the world so much and gave His only begotten son to die for me.
Like Samson I got trapped in danger zones though I came out harmless for He is with me at all times
Like job I lost everything although I chose to remain in faith for I knew that I was already blessed with many
Like Joseph I was sold by my own flesh though I knew that with Him I am in safe hands
Because I am a rising star
Untouchable I remained thus more wonderful he became
Slavery does not scare me because I know that precious blood has been shared to buy me back
Like Paul from Saul to Paul I changed from sinner to saint
Holy is His name because like Israelites He took me from the land of slavery to land of peace and harmony
Just because I am born again to be a star.