Long Gown Poems
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You Never Do
You say that I am skinny but you give me nothing to eat.
You say that I am quiet but you don’t come and talk with me
You say that I need a friend but you leave me vulnerable in
The open guts of the enemies. You say that I am stink yet you
Give me no soap to wash my body. You say that I am working too hard
But you send no one to help me.
Here I am in the open space looking closely at the race, with noise around and a bunch of vagabond surround me with hearts packed with stones and a conscience unknown .Filthy hands and stirring the dish and their head beating on the concrete and washing the dirty dish.
Hypothetical sound playing in the ground and they are walking around
In long gown, with the religious pants dropping underneath their bottom
and hands sliding into their gowns for a pocket that is not found
oh how I loathe this disposition. I watched the eyes looking up and down for a word that cannot be found and the crown with its punitive
weight moving from side to side in the middle of the day.
You stand and watched the philistines descend upon me, you watched them hauled and pull me on the ground, you did nothing to help and then you say that you are heaven bound.Oh yes your heaven is up there
But my heaven is right here on earth. My heaven gives life and it comes with many years of sacrifice. You play the music loud to break my eardrums but I let the sound pass right through and filters in thin air.
Your mountain is getting low and you don’t have much further to go
You watched them mocked me when the vagrants unpacked on me but my spirit drives them back to their destiny. They run like wolves down
the street erupting the cities heart beat. I am here and you are there
and I have nothing to fear. You cannot mix religion with business that is hypocrisy in the third degree and you will not get not one more penny from me. I cannot be wooed y some religious song, and you will be hanged like every bad man and your accomplice will pay their dues with you and I want to tell you that you cannot do.
.
Some in the audience
shook their heads in
disbelief
whilst their entertainer
strutted 'long the stage
with the diaphanous
gown
Sum cheered
az
the performer
trickled the sheer
raiment
earthward
Several raced to the
exits
Scarcely any uv the
assembled recognized
who the artist wuz
'til
unto the stage
from twixt the
personage's legs
dropped
the box
uv
wheat'hes
With wind wisps, she sways like a tipsy sailor,
dressed in queenly array that'd impress any tailor,
with gentle petals, as soft as a lofty gown
and stamen arranged like a radiant, jeweled crown.
Bachelor buttons are sown, as if to a lovely garment.
The garden ground's an art, like a patchwork raiment.
Her highness is surrounded with likeness guests,
all seeming to await beauty pageant quests.
Their stems reach high, like skyward towers.
Cosmos explode like star-spangled showers.
Roses lift generously to sift their sultry scent.
Ornamental bluebells hang within their element.
Carnations wave at humble bumblebees,
who speak softly to poppies and daisies,
who reach the gaze of cheerful children,
who teach awe and simplicity again and again.
I am slipping into a dream_
I am in a forest green and lush
with trees so beautiful
and bird songs divine
and hear a "tree" talking. . .
my roots are deep in the earth
my branches raised to the sun
I am strength and I am courage
a river flows past me like a stream of glass
I am tranquility and serenity . . .
the winds are whistling through my weeping leaves
like violin's crying and
echoing in the forest . . .
I gave to life all the soul I had in me
all my leaves and tears trembled
and all my pain fell in autumn
drifting away red, yellow and orange
to decay . . .
I rest under the snow
and place on a cloak of pure white
then, in the Spring I put on my emerald gown
and re-birth . . .
years for now, the Vicar preached his village,
message of peace and everlasting love,
but back at home his wife would show him rage,
shout “ Leave me alone” and give him a shove!
corpulent now, no more as slim when young,
she was now a mother of children three,
loved him dearly, though she vented her lung,
“let me do my work, go! I am not free!
Christmas lights would bring much needed romance,
a cuddle, a kiss when the two were free,
if he professed something beyond a dance,
a shy “leave me alone, It’s time for tea!
thunderstorms were lot frequent in their town,
he would thank the Lord, for she held him close,
much love was shared when in their dressing gown,
“Leave me alone” smiled she,”time to repose”.
Written 13/11/2021
Leave me alone poetry contest
Mystic Rose Rose sponsored
10 syllables each line
She wants freedom to touch her
She wants symbols to wear
Sailors at dawn
Bear no response
As if they’re not there
She repairs to the ceiling
As the walls tumble down
Underfed, under bed
But she’s good for now
‘I look for you
But not for long;
I call to you’ —
The siren’s song
She plans for the wedding
No one there but the gown
Save a place
For her eager face
Guests depart the town
She smiles in cathedrals
Vacancy to her prayer
Up all night, teeming white
Her powdered purse on the stairs
‘I sing to you,
With whom I belong.
I swim to you’ —
The siren’s song
1996, 2022
They thought it would be fun to dissect Susie’s brain
But wait, Sue said. I am kind of allergic to pain.
We have new meds, you will hardly feel a thing.
She believed the surgeon, ‘cause she’s a ding-a-ling.
The doctors hypnotized her and she stayed in place
While they cut a tiny hole in her front lobe face
They extracted a bit of her teeny sand brain
I’m naked! The piece yelled, and don’t forget my train!
They pulled out a gown, a petticoat and a bridal veil.
I am eager to see what you’ll do next said Dale.
Wait! Said Tori as I was telling this story to her
Who is Dale and were her dendrites still pure?
Since I was rudely interrupted, the tale is now dead.
So now poor Susie is stuck without the rest of her head.
I do not feel guilty, I am the writer, thus the boss.
Not knowing the ending is the reader’s loss.
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown,
The bridled tongue will keep the fire bound.
A dose of bromide helps the words go down.
Exalting paupers with a golden crown.
Creating hero’s with exalted sound.
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown.
If our words of truth would be met with frown,
Would we eulogize and then chest proud pound?
“A dose of bromide helps the words go down.”
Embellished sackcloth still an ugly gown.
Vapid faces prefer the truth go round.
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown.
If only flattery we dare be shown,
Could weakling hearts bear the weight of truth found?
A dose of bromide helps the words go down.
When counsel concealed from one who is lown,
For what good cause could such ones be renowned?
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown?
A dose of bromide helps the words go down?
Yesterday,as the sun shone down
strolled to my aunties,she out of her gown
having a better day,health not too clever
but was so good see you and chat,however
Not speaking for coming upto nearly three year
family issues the problem,now i don`t care
`cos the effective calmness, and all the love
you loved the chain from our Shirl who`s above
Looking back now,i think to myself why
it took so long to solve,`cos money can`t buy
back all the time that has so past
but will make it all up,and make it last
Well Dot i shall wind up your rhyme
i know i will see again very soon sometime
because on leaving your house,i can confess
was a church like feeling,that i`d been blessed.
LOVE YOU.
Hold onto life, my little leaf,
in spite of pain,
in spite of grief;
and, when the wild winds rape the bough
till trembling more than now,
you almost lose your grip:
hold yet to life.
Hold onto life, though brittle brown,
remains alone of life’s fair gown;
for Spring must come again, I know
and warm your roots ‘neath melting snow;
you cannot give up now:
hold still to life.
Hold onto life, through life seems past,
and though the lots have all been cast;
for somewhere Summer walks in green
and somewhere Love crowns her queen
who knew him not below:
hold on, then, go.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson