Long Harmonised Poems
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UNCEREMONIOUS CEREMONY
Will weaponized with wounded words,
Purpose unbound against all odds.
She shades shame showing sheer strength
in the face of a situation of "Life & Death".
Eyes heated and heart blotted rashly,
He's hunted, his hands harmonised hastily
So tired & soul-tied, settling for life,
even when he isn't looking for a wife.
Of his escapades, she has had enough.
Although no Blessing and no Love.
Welcome to the unceremonious ceremony,
Only a Contract named "Matrimony"
And a forced vow delivered under duress
Both couples with solo breaths — ominous.
In this ceremonial circus, he plays no cupid,
In playing her character, she acts stupid.
He never inclined to woo her,
In her man's world, she's the ruler.
Life advances for a grand finale,
despite running from Malawi to Mali,
tainted destiny still pushed Him to Natalie,
the one that he sexually eschews
But mentally and physically refuse.
Thus with mutiny in his mind
He's to marry & leave freedom behind
Forced to marry, and responsibility to carry,
The gun to his head makes his eyes starry
Cos those bullets are too close to parry.
She is a lover ready to hold him bound.
But she makes his young heart pound,
She is played, used but won't be dumped
This wedding won't be delayed but prompt
He's the bull that keeps bashing all the ladies,
And riding through & through each stages
So she took the bull by the horn
And humble the fool with her gun.
Bullevard couldn't take a hike
because he knows Natalie will strike.
She was bound to getting him to sign,
He was bound to her, never to cross the line.
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? June 2023.
Thumbs Up To The Journey
At the footbridge as it bridges past from present future and perspectives your
feet might be-come and may be-go confused be-fuddled as can your mind before
the shadows rainbows feathered fancy pastel tunes and blues-bound colours
can memories anticipation taking-stock ooze pots and lots of lived experience
re-scribed re-told rewound projected narrated from emotive thoughts
stand still
At the bridge as it cradles the canyon with ladles and measures of the moment
where it spans what once was what you enrich in here and now not there and then the sweeping meadows fields of harvest schisms unions paradigms evaluations can treasures scary scars letting-go liberate scents and stents of living fragrance perceived untold configured touched upon stocked up condensed
reflected wait
The past is yet to come and not withstanding what bridge which side what size
and whence long gone remembrance spins and spans and slows and speeds the motion the sunrise dusk and dawning tapestry mosaic photographic lens sensations can truth reality attitudes and imperfections find soul and solace shared solitude re-modelled shaped anew confronted soothed harmonised
accentuated rise
The future has arrived and has been long projected and the past is living on
where they settle and sizzle on in ember’s glory and ashes to ashes and Phoenix in flight when horizons and boxes un-boxed wriggling worms preceding grave graves can joy pleasure senses and sexes passion peace human works of art in progress accepted invited challenged unchallenged channelled welcomed
gratitude prevail
At the foot-bridge at the mind-bridge where it bridges cradles sweeps your meaning brushes and jungles juggles and wonders which hand’s intuition which path to follow lie the answers to the questions asked lie the questions known and
not yet explored
24th July 2016
My palette is my imagination.
I paint pictures with my words.
Swirling colours of composition.
Mixing metaphors - agitating them
with the paintbrush in my mind.
My vocabulary is my keyboard.
Trilling notes of expression.
Crescendo of composition...
tumbling, falling....allegro, or
andante, and harmonised in my creativity.
My glossary is my tapestry.
Fixed firmly to the frame of verbal
inventiveness. Stitched in synchronacity.
Cross stitched sometimes - or
tacked in draft for later publication.
I cannot sing to you in thrilling arias.
I cannot paint for you on colourful canvas.
I cannot play for you in perfected pitch.
I cannot hang my works of art,
but I can write what's in my heart -
and, maybe, I'll touch yours?
4.
the sex-appeal of the telephone
and the bugle of the carnies-breaking cock-crows
are all harmonised seamlessly
the noon in the blood
is flowing along the river
all the dialogues are covered
with misspelling of men and women
the tailors want to increase life
cutting rightly the walking of clothes
after the vanishing of collyrium
from the eyes
there is not a single being
in the relief-camps
as far as the eyes can travel
i can notice in the ear-lob of the village-boats
the water-colour of fire-flies
twinkles
then let an agreement be signed
with the defence ministry
on the right
to enter into private bathroom
5.
in the air
on which flowers are engraved
the union of the betel leaves are making their outposts
anew
before the calling of the next pine-woods
you all the butterflies do take on board the tram
to go to the south-pole
is it well to incline so much
towards the tv-screen
who can say
the waves of the terracotta
would never make revolution
i’ve sent some full-moons of winter
and some water-bodies
into the holes of the handkerchief
the lacking of the colours
may kindly be excused
the birds that are blind from their birth
has been singing till now
the songs of the cave-civilisation
there is no question any where
this eclipsed-valley is adorned
with the answers only
He perched himself upon his stage.
He stretched himself up tall.
The Countryside Conductor
Fanned his wings and beckoned all
To join him as he welcomed in
A bright new sunny day,
To bring cheer to any appreciative heart
Who cared to listen on their way.
He belted out his melody
That lasted right to noon!
The sweetest kind of symphony,
The merriest of tunes.
Other voices harmonised
By whistle, croak and tweet.
Of different meaning in the bird world,
To humankind an aural treat!
Somehow too, it makes impact
For when we need a lift out of despair,
We may find ourselves recalling
The conductors tune that filled the air.
As the glistening jewels
of snow cascade like
ballerinas pirouetting
to the crescendo of time,
choreographed from porcelain
keys of your h e a r t,
delicate fingers of the
winter moon stretch,
enveloping forlorn footprints
of poignant memories,
framed with petal-like poems
you've placed in the
gallery of my melancholic mind
where soulless shadows still~
haunt me in holographic
hues through somber nights, but
If I were to rewrite the anatomy
of this romance with~
juxtapositions, should I rescript
your promises in p s y c h e d e l i c ink?
knit silken sonnets from the
tapestry of scintillating
stars in our favour,
letting go of all the
seasonal silhouettes
that seized redolent rhymes,
maybe, it is from pain
we relearn to dream
in periwinkle pigments to
nurture and navigate through
decayed gardens embalmed in
opalescent tears and fluorescent fears
suppressed and
personified within gossamer
tales of sunflower s i l e n c e…
Quilted with questions that your
quintessential quill can~
reveal, in romanticised verses, to wade
through the abstracts of weary woes.
So, set your stones to
architect cobalt grey lanes,
to usher feathered thoughts into the
serenity of your scented sanctuary.
until I find the perfect gateway
adorned with crystals in the
verdant valleys, engrossed in vanilla flakes,
where cosmic yearnings are embroidered
between mauve instruments
harmonised from
xylophone whispers reverberating
in vermilion s t i l l n e s s…
You will always be the
clementine crown of my sun,
the scarlet scrapes in my ink,
zested in zealous dahlias
and no rain can drown
this celestial
c o l l a b o r a t i o n…..
The walls open their eyes as
the mantids begin to weave
a loving celestial vibe, incensing
the onset of this boundless drive
Not questioning if one will retain
sentience, escaping for a time
confinement within her hive
machine-like serpentine's
propel mega metallic craft
exerting complex, magically carved
oaken ores
opening dimensional gateways
ascending straight-through
intensified vibrational planes
utilising the great wave
unlocking these secret doors
Fantastic crystal-blue eyed
gnomes with iridescent feather
shaped cheekbones perform
a dance, whilst oscillating
their elongated gold spoons
Traces of a nameless ancient face on
innumerable orange-pinkish moons
within vast space, divinely harmonised
eternally ringing out in high tune
I felt the sunshine from ochre swirl, it set my face alight,
It tumbled from the whitest pearl, as I remembered about delight.
The cooling of the deepest seas, that could illuminate the dark,
Held me in their empathy, in some dream I will gladly embark.
A soft tone whispered into my soul, and harmonised within,
An impossible yet now achievable goal, a wonder, a beauty, a win.
A wealth of stories I want to hear, tales of hurt, and of love, and bliss,
I'd stop them in their tracks even though, if I dared to steal a kiss.
The future's brighter every hour, filled with blushes and smiles and glee,
I observe it as a summer shower, more importantly it sees into me.
A journey I am ready to begin, while I nurture and love the surprise,
I will let out all I've hidden within, but I will keep your butterflies.
It all began as normal
The fiddler's practice session.
Lively rousing tunes
Were his prime obsession.
A frog leapt suddenly with a croak
On the final rise of the bow.
" Keep playing! We'll collaborate! "
He ordered with a bellow.
The fiddler laughed and asked the frog,
" Do you know any songs? "
With widened eyes, patience worn thin,
He yelled, " Just play! I'll croak along! "
He did just so and to his surprise
They harmonised quite well.
Though the frog was bossy and rather rude,
The fiddler fell under his spell.
Since their first rehearsal
The local towns and pubs they tour.
The fiddler obeys the frogs commands
So his ears don't get sore.
Written 18th January 2023
For: The Fiddler and The Frog Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Mandolin melodies harmonised horizons,
yet the only strings being strummed
were those of my heart.
In the midst of enchanting melodies,
where nothing else mattered, but her,
we wandered barefoot, hand in hand,
as the tenderness of our steps decorated the sand.
In the simplicity of pure beauty, lost in a moment of perfection.
We lay admiring the heavens, watching daylight drift away.
The jealous golden orb silently sank, as colourful skies summoned
illuminated expressions to light up a black and white world.
In darkness we lay and gazed
lost in the silent serenity of the stars,
until the tranquillity of her sequin eyes
hypnotised my soul and I danced devoted
to the magnificence of her delicate elegance.
The whisper of sweet sentiments
revealed our secret serenade.
In the distance an orchestra of humming birds
hummed the chorus of our passionate song.
Her arms like celestial wings, embraced me close.
Her surreal kiss guided my lips home.
As waves washed away our footsteps,
the moon closed its eyes, as millions of shy stars
hid behind a blanket of nocturnal clouds.
Silent One
Simple Musings
10 December 2017