Long Palace Poems
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Open Letter to you,
MY LOVELY HATE SPEECH
I hate my speech today, yesterday and the day dust rises.
I was there opening my eyes carelessly, smiling like an idiot
I was gazing shamelessly, walking like an idler without course
Little did I notice my vehicle lose direction; little did I notice my head bleeding
I was just there; the settled dust rising, tables turning, grenades and bullets are now apples
Little did I know the power in my lovely hate speech.
What pride did we get after slaughtering fellow Kenyans like goats,
What are the stuttering rifles rattling about, are humans turning game,
What are the grenades doing in civilian pockets, are they keys
Why are the churches burning, you cannot tell me tis the holy ghost fire,
What has that neighbour done, why is that policeman lying there,
Why is no body answering me, am I alone, or are you wondering too
Should I assess the power in my lovely hate speech, am concerned.
My love speech I hate you, my hate speech I love you
Both speeches are one, are the same, of same taste, I hate my passion for you
I love my fellow politician, i love his dirge during my friend’s burial
You bleeding mammoth my friend, I like your corrupt tummy
You scavenger of your own carcass, I like your greed for power
You megalomaniac virus of a beloved country, we love you, let us be
Little do we know death will let you release us, How uncertain are we of you.
My eyes are full of your ocean, the palace you exhume immorality
My ears are preoccupied with your desert, the desert devoid of trust, and the just
My nostrils have your pungent infamy, your callous greed, your everything
My mind can’t decipher the thought of your sanity, your policies and you
You make me lose taste, you make me look like you, you make me you
I am youthful to the economy, i am youthful to the wise, am not youthful to your “youth”
Little do i know death will let you release me, How uncertain am i of you.
Am talking about you, what have i said about me? What?
I hope I know the promise in my Kenyan Anthem
I hope I have a plan of getting rid of the chaff, the you
I hope am not you, i hope you don’t like seeing me wise
I hope your son is listening, the son that wants my very own daughter
I hope am the government, the government of me, for me and by me
I hope i know peace, the peace am preaching, the peace you hate. I hope.
Yours Kenyan,
Mzee Emmanuel Mwau.
Let not the pain of death enter my body
I the Pharaoh, son of the gods
Here my wife, who is the daughter of the Nile
The daughter of Isis sits beside my throne,
Is she not beautiful?
I live and roam the abode of the gods,
In eternity I stay with the majesties
Of the immortal gods
Mortality has no hold of me
I alone carry the staff of Osiris,
Behold! I judge thy weight of the heart,
With that of the golden feather
Thoth that measures thy heart shall tell me of thy heart’s content.
If I find thy heart lighter than the feather;
And find thy honesty,
I shall let you enter the heaven of the gods and goddesses.
If not, then, a beast to devour thee, waits for the dishonest.
Know me by my throne, made of gold
I am cloth with ornaments made of jade and sapphire,
White silk of clothing, with jewels from faraway lands.
Anyone that dear look down upon me shall die
And those that despise me, shall fine their homes burned down,
with fires from heaven.
Who am I? I have asked thee
Look at Anubis, the son of Nephthys bringer of death.
Do you await him to bring me great sorrow?
Shall he warp me with a yard of cloth?
Shall I find peace in death and my fate be judge by him?
If so, I have a place among them.
My afterlife is in paradise, their awaits a bundle of joy
With music of the immortal, with harps, lutes, lyres
And servants to tend to my every need.
But even if I die, the weight of mine own heart, shall be as light as a feather.
For I know mine own honesty.
As I sail across the sandbank of Apophis,
I have my guide, Ra, the god of the sun to light my path
No monstrous serpent of chaos shall wreck his boat,
The boat in which, I am in.
So, I ask thee, traveler from the west
What is thy business with a god?
Look at my palace, is it not magnificent?
Has is not, the decoration and flowers that surpasses all human designs?
I have built these with rocks
Sands was the foundation of my legacy,
Shall all things compare to that of the past days?
I carry the burden of my glory, and yes, it is heavy.
But will such foundation as the sand be strong enough to hold against the tide?
Love is abiding that is true, but only in those who welcomes it.
My love for my beautiful wife, oh! How well have I been treated
With love from her is better than any pleasure a man can have.
Faithful to the gods or my wife? That I know not.
The young boy was pale,
He walked slowly in the alley
No. 41.His skeleton hand hold a rusted tin can.
He was in business,for him it was.
On his innocent face,
In a modern world,who really forgotten
Kids like him was also human too.His eyes
Pasted on a piece of bread on the dirty pavement.
On his side was tall buildings,on the other was a busy EDSA.
A dove whose feather blacken by the third world metropolis,
Peeped down from the lamp post,
Measuring the distance of the bread on the ground
Look at the child,inclining its head side ward,
Then,their eyes meet,resting on each other stare
Like eternity,
And it flew toward the blinding sun.
The boy saw a man approached,
Polished shoes landed on his lunch
The gold Rolex,tailored clothes,big ring,
A heavy necklace hung loosely on beefy neck.
Surprised on a sudden hand that raised on his way,
"Move out!" bellowed angrily,then scurried quickly on a green traffic
light. "Fool..."the boy sighed.
Business is business,he thought,as he reached out the crushed bread
Uttered a little prayer,ate it religiously with tears on his eyes.
Every bite he remembered his little brother he left this morning
on their cartoon box house
At Smokey Mountain outside Manila,its smoke ascend forever
Till the end of time,because of the corrupt lordship in kings palace
His little brother burned at stake alive waiting for his pancit.
His father was an inmate at Bilibid prison selda katorse (14)
His mother was a girl in the street.
Then an old woman came out at the Binondo Church.
Walked briskly as the wind swept the dusk on summer days.
Stopped,a discolored dirt hand spread for an alms.
Irritated,she rummaged her purse,and gently place the one peso
on the boys hand,made sure to slow her movement,maybe the rest
Were looking at her, she raised her brow and smile
"Of course.", she said sweetly
Father hope will see this act she thought that
Might mention her name in homily,Mrs. Cerbo was kind to the poor.
He spit the coin and swipe it on his dirty torn shirt
And say..."God Blessed Maddame."
Then he ran at the little Sari-sari store
Brought a piece of bread,break it into halves
He hid his share on his pocket
Then tossed the half on the side walk
When the boy had gone, blue wing landed
Ate with pride and thinking, "stupid boy..stupid boy..".
I wonder today
As I sift through the sands
And peer through the depths of other peoples verbalized talents
Works of intricate emotion and stanzas of hyperboles oxymoron’s and similes
and metaphor
When I refuse to welcome you to my world
When you stumbled all this way
And I show you how to clip an angel’s wings
and you relate to the angel
Even though you have soo many inner demons
I’m not sure you know what to say
So I sit here in the silence
And stutter to myself
I lay in bed at night and talk to myself
I hang pictures on the wall to inspire me to push me
and listen to things that will drive me to become another
But when you open this chapter of the metaphor I will upon your sleeve
When you walk through that open door
And are not too sure of what I mean to my soul mate when I say
that one day in heaven his experience will be a love note from me
I'm not sure you know what to say
Soo many of you are of few words
and soo few of you are of many
The angels are soo far away
And the four demons, my invisible enemies
are always on this merry go round
too busy to stop the roller caster where I find myself
Dizzy I am
Confused I am
Abstract and bizarre
Creatively thrown away by my fairytale godmother I dream
To remind me
I am a man of some higher power god
And instant gratification isn’t necessarily what I need
from the race of a reflection that doesn’t understand why it cowers
Instead of receives
While I clip the angels and fool the demons with the thoughts
and words of the wise and how I hate more than you
You become my poetry with hearts on your sleeve
a valentine I cant send demanding healthcare
for Christmas before all we get is Halloween
But when your eyes roll back into your head
and you try to resurrect what I express and bring me to life
through twisting my words that cut like a knife and carve marble stone
into gargoyles that guard castle gates
In this royal palace where no compass will help you find your way
and my thought seem soo far away
The feathers fall to the floor
The soldiers look down at their weapons realizing they are still little boys
but intoxicated now and forced to the realization
This is how we raised them to be men with awards for serial killing
Of stars and stripes
I'm not sure you know what to say
Once upon a time,
In a secluded, distant kingdom,
There lived a beautiful princess
Who spent her days carefree,
If not slightly impassive,
Exploring the palace gardens and
Dancing nimbly around the courtyards,
More often than not accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting,
The youngest of which had become
Her best and most trustworthy friend over the years, and whom,
Unbeknown to the princess,
Suspected she had fallen in love with her.
The princess's sixteenth birthday came, and there was
Great rejoicing throughout the land.
The princess and her best friend
Found it all rather amusing and tiresome when
The King declared that it was time
His daughter was married.
The princess took little interest in the
Many suitors who came to try and
Win her heart, though when she
Consulted her friend,
The lowly lady-in-waiting,
She was always sure to remark on
Which man seemed the kindest,
Who was the funniest, and
Which would provide her with stability and care.
Though, of course,
She privately dismissed them all.
So the years went past,
The princess grew more beautiful each day,
Beginning to make an effort to impress
The neverending stream of suitors,
Whilst her lady-in-waiting,
Silently saddened and horrified by her own desire,
Continued to enourage, comfort and love the princess
As the suitors came and went.
The princess laughed and kissed her friend, saying
No man could ever mean as much to her as she.
Then one day, a prince arrived at the palace,
One unlike any the princess had met before,
He smiled at her and she
Never sighed or turned away,
But merely smiled back.
The lady-in-waiting watched them
Explore the kingdom astride a white horse,
Dance delightedly together in the moonlight,
And she saw the prince
Encourage, comfort and love the princess,
And she blinked away her grief.
Soon wedding bells rang throughout the land
As the prince and princess held hands and
Spoke their vows,
The lady-in-waiting stood near the
Back of the congregation,
Smile frozen on her face.
She had no horse, of course,
She could not waltz,
She was a lady-in-waiting; a servant,
And the princess always marries the prince
And they live happily ever after.
There are no fairytales for fools like her,
And she is left waiting, wanting, wasting,
Without a hope of happiness,
And that's how the story ends.
(A lone voice whispers)
I always used to wonder
Where do Robins go to sleep
Then one dark night
Within a deep all-consuming lucid dream
At approximately one o'clock
A beautiful deity appeared out of the mist
Wearing a blue and white coat
Holding a Lily and a shining lantern
Across its shoulder, a golden trumpet and a branch from Paradise
On its golden belt
Hung a scepter and a silver scroll
As it strolled towards me
Within my illustrious sleeping streams
A strange palace of darkness
Where no birds
Flew or squawked
Its mysterious ever watchful eyes
Held me firmly transfixed
Like an ethereal heavenly hawk
Its bright white orbs
Swallowed me whole
As it whispered words
I'll remember
Until I'm old
Within the light of day,
We appear
Your beloved and even I
To watch over and visit you
To see and follow all that you do
When we, the blessed few
Waiting in the new spectacular bright white lights
In the glorious cathedrals of Atmos, shadowy arches
Cross over
When allowed a brief time
Before we are eventually
Reunited in a new form
To rejoice in hymn
Within your All Highs
Divine Church
Depending upon
The faith of your choice
To visit those we still
Love
To leave a sign or sing
A sonnet
Happily with echoes of our new voice as we too mourn
Then in here
At darkness
In
The Great In-Between
A place you all visit
Whenever you fall asleep
In deep dreams,
We always appear
For real spiritual shapeshifters
Like us
Never really sleep
We just transform into Robins
Through a supernatural technique
For sometimes they are merely vessels
We use
Just one of our everlasting souls keeps
So if you see one
And it sings
Looking straight at you
Remember this
It's just a beloved loved one
Maybe even me
Archangel Gabriel
Channelling
Through
And with that beautiful closing line
It disappeared quietly
Back into the receding winds that whined
Of the Hidden Divine
And when I awoke at eight,
I'm sure it met me
Sat on my old garden's wooden gate
My beautiful friend
Who loves to sit on the washing line
Whispering and singing
Hello
Sending shivers and tingling
Shooting
As I remember that dream
All the way
Up and down
My sinuous
spine
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
( Based on the animated musical produced by Walt Disney
based on the fairytale written by Charles Perrault.)
"Hello Cinderella, how are you ?
I am very happy and still in love,
the Prince is kind and handsome;
and from the first kiss it was truelove !"
"What became of your animal friends ?
I brought all the birds, and the mice,
and other animals to live in the palace;
now, they are safe and think it is quite nice !"
"What became of your stepsisters ?
I allowed them and their mother to stay
in my manor, because they had nowhere to go;
I am sure they will grow old there and decay !"
"What was it like after your father died ?
I was a girl when father remarried,
Lady Tremaine who had two daughters;
then father died shortly after and was buried.
The daughters Anatasia and Drizella were spoiled;
and Lady Tremaine was very mean,
I had to live in a dusty attic room with the mice ;
and everyday had to scrub and clean ! "
"It must have been exciting to go to the ball ?
Oh yes, I was excited and wanted to go,
but it seemed impossible that I could;
until my fairy godmother helped me as you know.
The stepsisters had ripped apart my mother's dress,
but, fairy godmother made me a shimmering gown to wear,
made a pumpkin into to a stage coach;
four white mice into white horses fair,
and a old horse and a dog into a coachman and footman;
it was magic but only till the stroke of midnight.
At the ball I danced with the prince and walked in the garden,
and when we kissed it was delight ! "
"So I know the ending, your foot fit the glass slipper ?
Yes, of all the maidens in the kingdom it only fit me,
and though my stepmother and sisters tried to stop it;
the glass slipper was the key,
soon after I married the prince !"
"Cinderella, my last question is what is
your advice for young girls ?
I want every young girl to know they are a star,
and to never ever give up on their dreams;
because if they wish and wish they can go far,
as the song goes- A dream is a wish ! "
_________________________
February 09, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/A Conversation With Cinderella
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1428-994-09
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Conversation A Fictional Character
sponsor, Natasha L. Scragg, Judged 03/02/2022
First Place
You told me back when I was young,
That before we both grew
Old,
One day we'd live inside a mansion
Full of all the richest
Gold.
You said you'd give me diamonds, and write my
Name up in the sky
You said you knew it looked bad now,
But one day we could fly
At first, you were so gentle
And at first, I
Believed.
I thought you were my noble king, and I trusted
Your honesty
But you fell into an amber bottle, you got
Addicted to the drink
You bruised my all-too-innocent heart
And it started to sink
You took my wildest fairytales and
Spun them into dreams
No matter how unreal they were, no matter how
Out of reach.
You said we'd have a palace full of fancy, shiny things
Then you drenched it in your alcohol
Now it's not worth a thing
You said I'd be a princess, but I look
More like a toad.
I thought I'd own a horse-drawn
Carriage,
But I'm riding on a goat
I envisioned a golden crown, a sapphire-studded throne
You promised me glass castles,
But now you're casting
Stones
When you started hitting, you beat
Down my sense of pride
I wrapped my heart up in barbed wire
To protect its blackened
Eye
You shattered all my high hopes and trapped me inside
These walls
Now I live confined in shackles, a prisoner
Of a drunken war.
These words are my rebellion
I hope this pen can
Beat the sword
You murdered all my angels, and you
Sent them straight to Hell
You conquered me with demons when I thought you
Meant well
You sought only to own me, to isolate me here
With you
You're so afraid of burning, you'd drag me
Right down, too
I let you blind me with your lies,
Let you gag me with
Your ties
You ventured all the wrong places with your
Red and hazy eyes
It's bad enough that you demanded,
Even worse, you'd pass
The buck
But most tragic is the fact that I merely gave
It up
The mirrors are cracked and broken
From your constant booze-fueled
Brawl
The images are useless, and I can't see who you are at all
What happened to the sweet and loving
Person I once knew?
But thinking that, I have to laugh, because
That was never you
I softly egg you to confess, but
You tell me I'm to blame
For all of your misfortunes, and you bury me in shame
I'd be better off an orphan
This place could never be my home
You promised me glass castles
But now you're casting
Stones
In the pantomime of pretend prose,
the moon dances on lonely nights.
Before the lights go out at twilight,
unforgiven ice cold hearts,
remain abandoned, hoping this is the end.
Her eyes like Eve were deceived,
by manipulative sea green serpents.
Stranded on shores where time has no name,
the artistry of dread, breathed in poetic chills,
inhaling life, exhaling pain like dolent daisies.
Concealing metaphors of dying embers,
behind an avalanche of emotions,
she anticipated the rebirth of an artist,
by an art nearing the opposite side of yearnings,
because in the deepest chasm of poetic love,
an alliteration of antithesis attracts affection.
I was not as naive as Adam,
searching for heartbeats from heaven,
knowing that is how you ruin a poet.
An empathic spirit ignites pens full of fire,
burning the strings of poetic puppets -
the greatest gift of entrancement.
Rumi taught me the universe is infinite,
and so am I, so I knew I would meet my muse,
like stars greet the moon in a meadow of miracles.
As roaming romance conjured my dream's horizon.
Her name always echoed in the silence of quiet nights.
An empress without an emperor in a crumbling palace,
yearning to blossom in an epodic flower field.
Her seldom smile was as radiant as the golden orb.
Despite ghosts hiding in the shadow of sunlight,
mystical silver spirits were summoning me to her abode.
Her misspelt phrases accidentally fell on my page.
I found her burying her frozen quill under six feet of snow,
with a withered heart reliving a winter wonder nightmare,
constantly bleeding pearls in a silage of tears,
cursing her tormented tongue.
Her winter kisses were as tender as butterfly snowflakes,
but at first, her rage slashed at my wrists,
drowning me in her obsidian grieving seas,
but my soul is like a seasoned samurai full of scars.
I always believed small steps lead to great places,
and I would kiss her sorrows goodbye.
Upon realisation there's no blood in my veins, only poetry,
together we portrayed pastel coloured sunsets,
illuminating a celestial canopy of light,
sowing trees of forgiveness,
surrounded by colourful petals,
leaving behind the dark long road home.
In our internal garden of Eden,
there is no darkness,
there is no forbidden fruit nor sinning,
only an aura of love personified.
You where the breath of my joy and heaven,
now you are my curse, blotch, and you delete the rainbow of my smile
Why so, woman of mud?
You where the fountain and rose of my heart,
now you’re the thrones that grow on the hills of my rose
and make my rose look like a mountain of pain.
Why so, woman of mud?
You where the highly skilled love miracle maker that turned my tears to wine
and give my cry special effects,
because when I am crying and I think of you, I suddenly start laughing.
But now, you turn my smile to clay and my tears to a red river of agony, and you roll my cry with your temper of hate down the mountain of darkness.
Why so, woman of mud?
You where the pure guide that guided all our belongings with your cloud of kindness,
and you never did without showering your waters of affection on me.
But now, you scatter all that belongs to us in the deepest pit of unkindness, and you bleed away what we felt for each other through your rain of anguish.
You always said to me,
that theirs no such thing as heartbreak,
because you will never ever leave the path of our purple love, and you shall always be there for me like the stars that set on the eyes of skies.
But now, you boldly crush and pond my heart in your mortar of anguish and walk away leaving my skies blind.
Why so, woman of mud?
*Sobbing*
You where the light that lighted up the candle of my soul when I was damp and hollow and this made me glow intensively. You also always told me the darkest secrets I could not even tell you.
But now you blow so hard to wind away the light of my soul, flushing me dip down into the land of isolated slaves, where I hear your gossips about me.
Why so, woman of mud?
You were my brightest sunset and you never did without hugging and holding my hands, for you always saw me as your palace of refuge in times of traffic danger.
But now, you’ll rather become hell, just to see me cry and burn, and you’ll rather also just walk gently into death, so as not to call me your hero.
Why so, woman of mud?
You where my law of pleasant admiration and I could never carry on without you by my life, because you where my dramatic wonder of love.
But now, you are my flaws of unpleasant admiration and I have no choice nor muddle but to move on in my soberest mood, without you woman of mud, because you are now my thunder of hate,
Woman of mud!