Long Full face Poems
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* This has become a fave genre for me, as I’ve always been fascinated by metamorphosis and introspection of a shadowy nature … I hope you enjoy it. *
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ruin of me …
what was once
a bloom of promise
has become a wilderness of horrors
all for the sake
of your pearly light, strewn
that cornflower eye
that you open wide but once a month …
in my wistful youth,
I dreamt of your enchantments -
what dark-edged demon
were you looking for
that needed the bright of your full gaze?
you, a black-skinned cyclops
searching this orb
for the spell might set it free …
was that it, I mused?
each full face of the moon -
were you hoping for your liberty
and occasion to dance with the stars?
how could I have known in
my callow curiosity?
how could I have envisaged such
a diabolical truth?
it was ME you were searching for -
the chance to turn my blood
to molten metal
my teeth to daggers
and my body to a fiend of the moors -
twisted, powerful as an oak
and thirsting for flesh …
you, Luna
are the pearl of night -
the maiden of mysteries and magic, dark
the recreant lover of lycanthropy -
bane of my breath
and sweet salt of my doom
ages-times-ages ago
the vernal lad I was
wandered the high fells, lost -
dropped sleeping under a copse of cedars
and awakened to the gentle bite
of a broad, beautied canid
(your maidservant)
sable, with eyes of fire opal
the blue sheen of your vaulted gaze
daubing her fur like dew …
she had no intent of devouring me
no sense of animus at all
just PURPOSE -
purpose beyond my grasp
but the wait to discover just that,
was not long …
now -
now you stare like a harlot
these rare nights
just to see my monstrosity -
to behold the wonder of your accursed creation -
the genesis of genocide and guilt
that pierced the heart of a
wee boy of chastity
rife with hope and promise
then charred his dreamy aspirations
with veins of fire
and a conflagration of his marrow …
I … am the damned …
in your sight -
your blue-eyed midnight -
is where the man of me ends
and the beast begins
you, passion’s pain
who stirred my stripling soul
robbed me of my god
and flames my
coursings …
even now.
For the “1258 New Poem Only Poetry Contest”, Brian Strand Judge/Sponsor.
I is for idyll in the way that at 91 years of age my grandmother took such care, attention and pride in her appearance and her home.
V is for vanity as my grandmother was always immaculately groomed,her hair always looking pristine, full face of make up, how fantastic at that age.
Sometimes I think I should take a leaf out of my grandmother's book.
I can see my grandmother nodding in agreement.
Y is simply yearning to have my grandmother still here.
S is savour, I savour those laughs we used to have together, especially talking about my grandmother's war days and her lodger's she took in during the war.
S is also for secondary care. When you get to those senior years in my knowledge most only receive secondary care, except for my grandmother who had exceptional care, love and attention at the hands of her two lovely carer's (or minder's as my grandmother used to call them) Ellie and Angie thankyou for caring.
M has to be for memory, as my grandmother had the most amazing memory. A better, sharper memory than me and my mother joined. My grandmother had the sharpest, quickest brain. M is also for my grandmother's amazing courage and spirit throughout her life.
I is for intelligence, as you could always hold and keep an intelligent conversation going with my grandmother.
T is for tender, as my grandmother was gentile, and affectionate as well as being vulnerable and sensitive. My grandmother was also non-judgemental, she never judged me on being a lone parent.
H is for hereditary for my smith nose, for my grandmother's sense of humour, and of course a hug. Grandma I send you a hug from myself and Daniel.
On a lighter note, on telling Daniel my son of his great-grandmother's death, I said great grandma has died and gone to heaven in the sky.
Daniel replied "only animals go there"
I said people go there too
then Daniel replied 2but the beds are to small"
BYE GRANDMA
I draw honey blowing wind
thinking of you ore precious gift
like a snowflake pure unique
One of a kind in seventh Heaven
arriving within these eyes kissing a diamond
You're my angel rays softly touching outside
gently inside sighs the one in a thousand dreams
Beautiful nine floating in the clouds
singing with the silver treasuring dream lining
A beam shining over her pale full face
Brightly pearl cut ivory and back frosted jewels
silver trails on wishes sparkle, enchants in a trance
From the vine floating bubbles burst forth
rainbow magic coloring in your light drunken treat
bursting celebrations wishes in the mind
Dripping starlight desires your company
delightful feelings of passion burns
Inferno of flickering flames dancing
in each warm breath touching beat
deep warmly kissing emotions
Budding rose craving sweet scent
new life arising stir beginnings
so glad it's you I fall to
Surely as the sun forever rises in the east
Replaced in my nights sailing sets direction, to my best mate
You who raise sails within me without wings
on deep tides upon this ocean waves turn over
under the moon and stars we bathe silver
Dripping love sparkling in starry eyelids
Jewels the dewdrops each morning speak
Upon the ground as destiny calls sweetly
embracing the echos over sands golden
lost a lone wolf howling out lonely cries
in a cold winter lunar sky
snow lays upon the ground
Crystal true blue loving white
in two loving arms to die for
Holding your name smiling
breathless heart of beauty
beating with your love complete
There’s someone that you want to kill,
but ride it out, avoid the rope?
You’d spare the chair in prisonville?
Then I am here to give you hope!
Number one, you don’t want blood.
Don’t be Wilson, be Joe Starrett.
You’ll never come to any good
the day you spill your victim’s claret.
Blood will give the game away.
They’ll find the pattern on the wall,
connect you to his DNA.
You’ve never heard of Luminol?
And throw away that mobile phone.
The slowest of slow learners?
Read my lipsalve, Al Capone –
nothing’s safe – not even burners!
You ditched the stiff in some dark wood,
so far away, you drove for hours –
the cops can prove the spot you stood,
while pinging off the local towers!
You’re seeking an illicit gun
(in London slang, a ‘moody shooter’).
Want a tip? I’ll give you one –
don’t type it on your home computer!
You won’t believe what suspects ask.
Do ligatures require a knot?
Where can I buy a full-face mask?
How long do bodies take to rot?
The first thing that the cops will do
(believe me – it’s no mystery)
is take your Dell and rummage through
the questions in your history.
It’s mushrooms that you need to use:
they’ll do the job, without a doubt:
put Dapperlings in your ragouts,
Destroying Angels (check them out).
Eat some yourself, but check the dose.
Be plausible. Moan loud, and puke.
It bothers you, to get so gross?
We’re killers, pal – not Daisy Duke!
Leave no fragments in the fern.
You want your partner/mother dead?
Shun that gun, friend: spurn the burn:
deathcaps are the way ahead!
Dull as a pool of mud
Grey and stale in their attention
Seeking out the diamond in the rough
Shining a benevolent get well soon
Shine a blue light, shine it big and bold
Fearless, fall upon me in thick reaching blue
Shine a light upon me; I am coming in to land
Wave the semaphore signals, you siren
Shine a light, they have come ashore
The landed gentry, dressed in red as deep as blood
Foreign faces carrying the quirks of Gypsy caravans
They shift a deep gaze, bars behind bars of eyes upon eyes
Stare, silence all save for deep drawn breaths, I faint
Edging closer and beaming eyes, hands and mouths
Thick as a whitewash, a flood of red coated flames of blue
Shining down upon my pretty little veins, they
Collapse under the pressure, a frontier
Surrounding, tongues a wave of Verbal Ocean
Flicking left, right, up, down, washing shame in saliva
As I gather my marionette arms and legs
Demanding under spotlight, Puppet Master, take me back
Gaggles of giggling salt towers, stood as tall as infinity
For all the salt in the sea, what I would give for a handful
Of sugar coated faces, embarking closer as I rise, up, up, up
The blue light dimming then dooming, hypomania tinged
With a slight touch, a full face punch of hypoglycaemia
A kick to the teeth as my body gets heavier, heavier
Breaking under the weight, I am coming in to ground
I seem to remember
a golden post-toddler childhood
in which each day was a journey
ecstatically timeless,
yet within bookends
of coral dawn
and bruised dusk,
between waking from true timeless sleep
and returning to my evoluting inside place
for adventurous pilgrimage,
courage in face of nightmares,
curiosity looking full-face
between inside enchantments
and outside ecstasies.
But now
I am that parent who calls to liturgical dinner,
harvests and buys the victuals,
plans the sacramental meals
on my better focused days,
administers all cleansing rituals,
defends all rights against retributive trespass
and pollution
of sand and soul
water and soil
sacred energy...
Secular disenchantments
distract from Here we are in this inviting,
yet constantly changing,
day for just us Now,
far outweigh sacred enchantments.
Ecstasy feels like a reserve
preserved for early WinWin childhood
on a glorious summer day of liberty,
While mendacity of time's turbulence,
downdrafts,
push-back,
competitively usual business
projects lack of time for leisurely enchantments
from unseen dawn
through vaporizing dusk,
Two moments of each outdoor day
unlikely to engage my full, ecstatic,
still-parenting old age presence
remembering golden enchanting childhood.
You seem happy
But of course, everyone puts on an act
A full face of non-existent make up
You put it on before you take the first step out your door
I do not despise all happy people
But I prefer the un-happy people the ones who are real
I envy those with joy
The ones who get to go home to a house, one that gives hope
I wished to have a house, somewhere of my own
Every home I have had to had to flee
Not by choice usually
Circumstance leaves me in a cage, A flightless bird
I wish to have a love
But I am inept, uncappable of what I want most
Its been there before but it has never stayed
I wish for him back
I wish to have back the men who broke me
The number keeps growing some I knew forever
Some I don’t know at all
I wish to have power over myself again
Free-will is a lie like Santa to children
Its never really real, anyone can take it away
They can abuse you and leave you broken
I am not glass, I wasn’t fragile nor easy to break
My true wish is to go back
Back to that one moment I ed it all up
There’s always one moment
If I could go back could I change it
Could I stop my inevitable loneliness?
Could I finally take the step out the front door
Inside a knowledge turning cogs on this wheel
born from the darkness a heart rules supreme
fear in one wish looking towards tunnel light love
All that will remain when all turns to dust threads of life dance
kneeling weak alone humble and meek finding a balance
Weeping rivers flow haunting sea waves turn the key
truth is something beautiful touching deeply chords
Chilling whispers rise warm oasis warmly embraces hold
creeping inside beauty beams within shadows
Dancing starlight kissing ocean reflections twinkle
sparkle glisten teardrops coldly ripple out
Floating on a cloud of breath precious beauty
a mystery that means something special
finest mother of pearl gem coloring rainbow jewel shines forever
Frozen dew quicksilver lining echoes time answers always
cold as ice crystals dazzling diamond stillness pure
Frosted vision clear cutting ivory white one cool snowflake falls
baptism in regal glowing crowning full face splendor enchants a ball
walking along golden strands looking across the sea midnight strikes
Sleepless nights held over and back destiny calls your name
utopia faraway dreaming our love complete
In the sloping corners of humankind hangs the skeleton.
Ghosts are not hidden and flowers are exhausted,
Although some folds shelter beauty and
the old man can smile for some seconds
while he scratches the sky looking for
a ball that may glitter inside all.
The players cannot find the secret of the elegy,
While history dress only with one color
It is not the hour for a pilgrim. Many are left
On the side of the road with the lack of revelations.
One must remain faithful to litanies
To the holy reverence to the fatigue society.
Humans are around a corner
It does no matter if a barrel of tar is thrown in their full face.
Mouth and tongue pronounce the morning
Edition of obsessions, although the thickness of
the age and the readiness the long roll deeply sunk
no months to build effigies
I swear, I would die for you, but I have
no austerity for breath. I dream cities without clocks,
they hurt me, then I would add up stone by stone of kindness,
worry about questions, good questions,
and dream cities full of flavors and faces I can touch.
My apologies. It is late.Where there is a city
there is no city.
Frozen by uncontrollable, invisible angst
thriving on my anxiety
Motions to emotions of anchors, wrapped chains hold me down
Unable to escape for freedom
The body lays,
drowning in breath, air that is poison
Movements that were once freely by choice of living in normalcy withered down to fragments of imagination
Force to walk from safety into depths of the pandemic for green that dulls out dollar signs for weekly survival
While vaccines are far and few the battle to contain is only fleeting
Variants began to thrive as half the population lay in a lie
Death comes....surrounds us all
My mind says to flee and the body agrees but the greed in America ties me down to the depths of hell to earn green in order to serve the affluent that offers a little piece of survive ability by paying a sum
The mind shatters-
with winds blown from the nose of the selfish
Chin guards adorn from selfish souls to those who walk across stores adorn in there full face not blocked by life saving mask
Forever blue in lost days lost life to the lies that killed thousands of thousands