Long Died Poems
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We lived or should I say we died slowly
Living a day more is a blessing,
To right the wrongs, sculpt out lasting monuments with our blood, sweat and tears
It's also a countdown timer, ticking clocks signalling how close the end of our short life is.
We phased in and out, between each waking moment,
Reality and fiction got entwined,
Caught in the raving madness of survival
As we toil and cuss and sigh and move on breathless,
All in the name of living life.
Chapters by chapters of existence got flipped out,
Some with unwritten episodes, some unfinished,
and yet some with finished episodes with unintelligible inventions,
Yet again, we had chapters with happy endings in their finished episodes,
All in all, it ended, however it did.......
Now, gears of existence are being oiled again,
Puffing out smoky entrails of fresh resolutions to be penned down,
New chapters to be written and lived,
As our short existence roll out before us.
A Greek mythological classical character chosen,
Medusa with her snake hair and stone stare, a frozen
Look turning people to stone, originally a vision of beauty,
A woman of erotic desire, who inflicted unimaginable cruelty,
Her destiny to become an unapproachable monster,
Many attempted to kill her, heroes and many a mobster,
Her punishment, all because Poseidon willfully raped her
Bringing about woe upon all women whoever they were.
The Greek God Perseus renowned for killing
Such beasts, ordered by King Polydectus whether willing
Or not, to go and bring back her head,
Perseus had a plan how to slay Medusa, delivering it dead.
This was a hero, but still sweat collected on his brow, DRIP
Drip, drip, but bravely approached her abode, a swift SNIP
Went his sharp sword which did ,SMASH
Down with might, and Medusa’s blood did SPLASH
It was rumored that from the severed head came a BELCH
As her blood in Perseus’s hands went SQUELCH.
This warrior’s deed was certainly brash, swiftly did snatch
Medusa’s head, Perseus the hero for whom there was no match.
Well worked his plan, held his shield at an angle, a space
At which he could see the reflection of her face
On his shield, but not look into her eyes, he scored an ace,
The horrifying snakes in her hair died, her eyes ablaze
A statue of Medusa’s head shown as averting assailant’s gaze.
Contest Entry: Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Date: 01/11/2021
Lost between the borders of heaven and hell,
confusion led to this story, one must tell.
Surrounded by a world full of violence,
I closed my eyes and took a vow of silence.
Wondering if this life was even real,
weird chills and shivers, one began to feel.
Suddenly a figure appeared in a shroud,
in darkness, his words echoed ever so loud.
“If you dare, come closer and take a chance,
won’t you give me the pleasure of one dance?
Do not fear for I am not violent,
why are you the one who is silent?”
“Why should one become your willing dancer,
so that you can fill my mind with cancer?
You are nothing but a ferocious beast,
go now, upon my soul you shall not feast.”
“I know all about your forgotten schemes,
I’m the one who can bring you your dreams.”
Thou shall not sin, come leave this humdrum city,
let me show you a life, ever so pretty.
Can’t you see we are all the same breed,
they will all follow if you plant my seed.”
Louder and louder his words would repeat,
effecting the rhythm of my heart beat.
This was no simple case of confusion,
for this image was causing much delusion.
Then again, life can become an illusion,
when one chooses, a life full of seclusion.
“I must decline this dance you want so badly,
for you this poem will end, rather sadly.
For, I seek a path of peaceful harmony,
my soul cannot sing with you in symphony.
Nothing here for you, so be on your way,
this time your words shall not lead me astray.”
Scorned he left with a sly grin on his face,
vowing to return again to this place.
Inside, something that day seemed to have died.
Resisting temptation filled me with pride.
For him this was just a sinister game,
but, I could never live a life of shame.
After all I was my mother’s son,
strong – after all had been said and done.
The Silent One
Originally posted on 1 May 2017,
re posted 19 January 2019.
I walk through slowly, softly falling snow...
They teach me importance of letting go...
Truth is though, my heart is again broken.
Snowflakes, like my memories, so frozen.
I walk through the night and the daytime.
Wishing I could hear our church's bell chime.
I am remembering every time to you I cried,
I am left here thinking you've too soon died.
I write poems about this mild start to winter,
For your passing gives my heart a splinter.
I know you're watching over me in spirit,
So I will try to prove to you I can do it...
I'll grieve and be strong, I did it for so long,
Originally as a way to mask, so I can belong.
But now I'll show you how much I've grown,
Especially now I inherit the heart you shown.
When wracked with suff'ring even more,
I all alone bemoan my fate,
as one who drowns in sorrows sore
which harm, harass, and maul his state.
Aggrieved for what feels like forever,
I trouble God with bootless cries
as I endure my manic fever
with tearful, red, psychotic eyes.
The minute hand lands on midnight!
I can't find clear words to express
feelings of falling a headlong height
b'neath heaven's reach 'yond grief's excess.
Inside, I feel the Reaper’s scythe
as I think out my mordant plan:
razor, pills, or a kitchen knife,
a way to end it by my hand!?
Like Sylvia Plath, if I can
plant my head in a GE gas oven,
then it’d be painless!? (But why plan
a death so cliche, and unproven?)
I think, too, of Virginia Woolf,
how she drowned her life in a lake;
I, too, feel swallowed in a gulf
of swirling misery that'd take
me to my death! Why do I feel
forsak'n, and heavy as lead now? Am
I so hopeless? Why do I feel
so worthless, and so so dead? How am
I to end my life (to kill myself)—
if all loved ones were then to miss me?
“Help yourself!” I then heard. "Heal thyself!"
I hear aloud. As angels kiss me,
I thus then found comfort in this:
that family and friends all care,
and if I'd died I would be missed;
so, I war 'gainst profound despair.
And then, Hope dawns! And soon comes peace…
And in the morn, I wake arising—
Joy breaks in, and I have new lease.
And then my state I cease despising!
God my Creator, Lord of life,
who formed from dust my frame,
lest I succumb to sin and strife
help me Christ’s life to claim.
Refrain
Lest I forget Christ died for me
Lest I forget His agony.
Lest I forget Thy love for me.
Lead me to Calvary.
God my Creator, and my Guide
Come, and my shepherd be.
As Spirit in my heart abide,
make me like unto Thee.
Let me like David, stained by sin
confess my sins to Thee.
Wash clean, my sins, purge deep within,
Ransom and set me free.
Teach me to number my short days,
A heart of wisdom give;
Lord may my lifestyle bring you praise
as long as I shall live.
There was a mentor and a mentee.
A devoted teacher and his disciple.
Mr. Rucker was a loving master, and
Kenny was a very submissive student.
The mentor was 55, and the mentee
was 15 when they met. They were
a 'match made-in-heaven'.
This bond was broken after 5 years
because the mentor contracted cancer with
a very dire prognostication. Kenny was able
to visit with Mr. Rucker for about 6 months.
He died 6 months after Kenny's last visit.
Kenny never found another teacher to replace
the one with whom he so greatly benefited.
On a very windy day, Mr. Rucker spent a couple
of hours on the banks of the river in their
town. While there, before his demise, he thought
it well for him to release the 'Bond Card" TO THE
WIND as he thought about his student Kenny.
The 'Bond Card' was created and shared between them;
something in hand identifying their personal bond.
This bond was set long before the tutor and cancer
met. On one side of the card were 9 words from mentor
to mentee. "Be the you for whom there is no substitute".
On the other side were 10 words to be repeated by the
mentee to himself every day. "I am the me for whom
there is no substitute".
Long after Mr. Tucker's demise, Kenny would often pull
out his 'Bond Card' and lift it TO THE WIND IN THE SKY.
As he held the card tightly in his right hand, he touched his
heart with his left hand. Remembering the words on the
'Bond Card' that Mr. Rucker taught him to say, Kenny,
with tears in his eyes, would say, "I am the me for
whom there is no substitute".
102722PSCtest, A Note In The Wind. Charles Messina. 2P
Imagine not knowing your heart and your head
Work together so well that it fills you with dread
When your heart is broken, your head feels it too
Depression and sadness pierces right through
Because it hurts
You put your head and your heart into loving someone
And now they’re not there your life is over and done
Let the sadness take over and fall into the arms
Of the waiting reaper and all of his charms
Because it hurts
There’s no way out, no way up, only down
Down through earth and water, to bury, to drown
‘To get the release that only death offers me
Because this is the only way that I can see’
Because it hurts
But there is someone who loves you, and hurts when you do
But doesn’t want to risk saying the words ‘ I love you’
For the effort is wasted when you no longer bide
But you’ll go without knowing that a part of them died
Because it hurts them too
Form:
16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland's is on the run
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's, MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans
I had spent time decorating my home for Christmas Day,
but felt forlorn when I should be quite gay;
the blinking lights on the tree were bright and pretty,
as I wept tears of sadness holding my sweet kitty;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
I fell asleep in front of a smoldering fire place,
waking with tangled hair to find an elf face;
but this elf had real jewels in his spikey hair,
well, you are not really the answer to my prayer;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
Suddenly, a tiny beautiful fairy appeared to sit beside him,
and they began to sing loudly a Christmas hymn;
stop, I begged you are off key for heavens sake,
and can you not see I am full of heartbreak;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
Well, not anymore silly they both said at the same time,
I looked and noticed she also had jewels sublime,
they heard my weeping and they just had to come;
what are your names please and where are you from,
you see, I am alone now all have died !
He is Donica and I am Evadne from planet BOB,
you see visiting sad people is our forever job;
this odd little couple beings really tickled my funny bone.
it was so NICE to not be visiting a headstone;
you see I am all alone now all have died !
So, all Christmas Day we sang all kinds of songs,
mostly off key but with the joy where it belongs;
but the next morning my house was stone cold,
except for the jewels left- for me to forever hold !
__________________________
December 12, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Beings From The Planet BOB
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1311-466-12
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Fantasy with fictional beings
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger, Judged 01/02/21
First Place