Long Misbegotten Poems
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What’s to be? You and me,
brought together by goddess of fate, Verdandi..
Reverie ...our first night;
your voice caressed me in a rose petal red cascade,
nuances of your soul
as intoxicating as eau de vie brandy
as you sensuously swept me
through the sultry sway of your serenade…
...so many years since,
so many nights now estranged, so many ‘firsts’ forgotten,
was this part of Verdandi’s plan
that our love is meant to be misbegotten?
What happened to your belief
of our paths' merged by Divine intervention?
Was it ever in your heart
or just your imaginary romantic invention...
Undress me and redress me!
Atone my aroused body, heart and mind!
I’ll taste you, toast you, savor your wanton wine,
inhale and breathe you in;
deliver me your ecstasies erotic
to realms exotic I’d never find,
fill me, thrill me, strum my strings till I sing;
stroke me I’m your violin.
Let me temptingly tease your rising tide
and I’ll ride your wild waves higher,
embrace me, love me
and together let’s revel in rolling rhythmic swells;
take me in your arms,
pin me with your carnal charms and aching desire,
rock me, quake me
shock me, shake me, I’m your lily-belle mademoiselle
From Heaven to Hell and back again,
take me, spin my world counter-clockwise.
Remember ...when your fervor
first whirlwind-twirled me in a ravishment of ‘I love you’...
Satiate me,
with a lust that grows and shows aglow in your elsewhere eyes,
rekindle us;
it’s not too late, evaporate the cooling dew on heartstrings blue.
Susan Ashley
October 2, 2017
~ Second Place ~
Love For Movie Screens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
A mask
Cracked but standing
Not fallen
Yet hollow
Eyes etched into the ruins
Trapped between what remains
And what has been lost
Thoughts through the rift,
A mouth, open yet voiceless
Whispers out of place
Where the winds speak no name
And stone withers memory
Interwoven
Thorns crawl heavenward
Meek n determined
Reaching to spires, un-obtained
Faded into ash
Once a kingdom
It, without words
spire now shadow
Piercing what remains
Purpose forgotten
weight of eternity
Something misbegotten
Into fractured skin
Behind the mask, eyes stare
Fighting the stains
darkness lingers
Eyes, hollow they are,
Beyond the ruin keep
Beyond the walls of time
Beyond the veils of sleep
It’s been years since 9/11
they’re much older now…and grey
but they remember every moment
as if it happened yesterday:
Three old fire fighters regularly meet at the corner…
telling their story to anyone who’ll listen
They narrate with such intensity…
the sweat on their brows will glisten.
A young boy asked them this question…
(with his mother hoping it wouldn’t upset them)
“Do you keep repeating your stories,” he asked
“so you will not forget them?”
“No laddie.” one of the men chuckled…
“your thinking’s misbegotten…
It’s not so we won’t forget.” he said.
It’s so it’ll never be forgotten.”
Totems of What If
Can we ever escape
that which we create
but often choose to ignore
Like the mismatched rocks of a cairn
random choice is not an option
complimenting shapes and sizes
make up one's balance
one's direction
one's harmony
Yet some
Aspiring high rise urban dwellers
live a rock steel and glass totem life
stacking mismatched building blocks
like mutated animal lineage not of the fittest
unknowingly making unbalanced direction
even while gasping air to defy their self-made reality
Might they be destined to realize a primeval demise
like a surreal incarnation atop modern scaffold
where ghostly burial rites of Great Plains nomadic tribes
wait to happen
Can primitive wisdom ever penetrate assumed importance
before the inverted vortex of tumbling balance
consumes itself atop the rising funnel of ignorance
distilling the wrongs of misbegotten power
to but sand kernels of infinity's hourglass
Such might be the destiny of man's innate totems
the unique building blocks that make us the species we are
while stealthily we try desperately to become a species we are not
The leaves are falling, falling, enriching
cool of fall season. Shades of fiery red,
yellow, gold, emitting light; bewitching
green summer leaves. Wondrous mystical bed
a time of windblown beauty gone and fled.
The past forgotten upon umber boughs
which shudder left disrobed, misbegotten.
A new beginning, a new smile endows
nature's convergence. Up comes the cotton
spun and woven into cloth, not boughten.
Wailing chill of long hours of Halloween.
Scrumptious Thanksgiving aromas, feasting
with loved ones. Time full of gladness between
new birth of a child and birthdays lasting
smiles. Season of rainy days were jesting.
9/13/2018
The death of once-great swans I oft' lament;
and ask in vain, “Where have all the bards gone?”
No more are written lines as eloquent
as in the days of Poesy's ancient dawn,
when Homer sung the epic war for Troy,
and the odyssey of a Greek-hero king;
or, when the poet Petrarch sung for joy
of Laura, his love; and Dante, whose dayspring
of the heart was Beatrice. The Romantics
of bygone days, alas, are forgotten!
The lyric odes of Keats, the Byronics
of George Gordon, are now misbegotten
by great reams of abysmal, free-verse styles
today ill-writ by mental juveniles.
A time remembered from a different era
A warm and gentle memory
When families prayed and stayed together
And you were here by me
We walked holding hands by the river's edge
Alone and at peace with the earth
Conquering the universe on our own
Giving it all it was worth
We were moving mountains and changing the world
Standing strong for what we believed
It seems as though it were all in vain
We spent a lifetime being deceived
Could it be that we were better then
Surviving misbegotten ideals
Were we a force to be reckoned with
The secret that nature reveals
Maybe the world didn't need to be changed
Maybe it was best left alone
There were people who spoke of living their dreams
While we had dreams of our own
I guess in the name of progress we gain
But in the end there is so much lost
There once was an innocence in all that we did
Was the progression worth the cost?
Defeated as I stand on the shores of my voided mind.
Lost in the dark depths of this darkness, light impossible to find.
Picking up the pieces, I can no longer keep myself composed.
Cursed, it seems all good has always been opposed.
I’m nothing but barren, misbegotten.
Abhorrent behavior caused me to be forgotten.
Left alone to suffer, my fate is inconsequential.
Doom looming over, this crisis is now existential.
Dead I stand with no will to grow.
Behind my mask, the truth I won’t show.
I’ve grown numb, again I’m reeling.
Spiraling rapidly, eviscerate all feeling.
Memories eradicated.
Wretchedness allocated.
Fuel to ignite a lifetime of despair.
Contorted visions love to torment and scare.
Weighing me down, this unbearable gravity.
An eidolon, I’ve succumbed to insanity.
Rage festering within, battling with my own mortality.
Deranged thoughts begin, diminishing my mentality.
Spiraling down to my end of my rope, life is dissolving.
Lost all essence of hope, the abhorrence is absolving.
Manifesting my own demise.
I’ve become everything I despise.
Walking through life with no hope, no faith.
Walking through life, all I am is a wraith.
A ghoul, walking with nothing left to lose.
Living a life that is the definition of a ruse.
Thinking of Thanksgiving Day
And its required feast
Makes me think it’s time to say
Which things I like the least.
For giving thanks for what we’ve got
Is kind of getting old,
Since there is much we hate a lot,
If I can be so bold.
Like a certain politician
Calling his opponents “vermin,”
Reminiscent of the disposition
Of a certain German.
Or protests lately in the news
With hostages forgotten
And blame set only on the Jews,
In speeches misbegotten.
Or keeping guns but banning books
And spreading lies much faster
Than it can take to stop the crooks
From causing more disaster.
Or watching as our planet aches,
Despite each expert’s warning,
Repeating all those past mistakes,
Preparing us for mourning.
I could go on but I will not,
Yet gathered ‘round the table,
I’ll ban these thoughts and find a spot
For thanks, if I am able.
It speaks of loss and vermilion
It speaks of everything and eternity
Shadows reek of dead things n burnt dreams
Shadows hide the faces of the world
The truth from the light, the madness
In houses of civility, things of industry
In the deepest night, shadows linger, creep
Shadows cover our misbegotten deeds
It speaks of loss n suffering
All hidden things in plain sight
Of oblivions needs, righteous creed
Shadows speak; truth where lies flower
Shadows speak, righteous riddles
Shadows reek of decay, lost power
It speaks of the past in vermilion hues
It speaks of everything, eternity n deities
Shadows reek of dead things n burnt leaves
Shadows hide the faces of the world, sublime!