Long Perplexed Poems
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‘Enter and explore’ read the sign above Blake’s Hall.
Sliding open the French doors I stepped inside
where I was greeted by a row of coloured doors.
Intrigued, I approached a green door, rested my hand
on the knob and turned it slowly. Peeping in I glimpsed
hope and harmony holding hands...then behind I espied
two scary beasts, eyes gleaming with greed and envy.
Hastily I closed the door and moved to the next, a red one.
Its intensity drew me like a magnet, and unhesitatingly
I opened it to reveal a room divided in two sections; in
one, passion, love and desire lay in warm embrace...
in the other, danger and malice lurked in the dim light.
Unsure of myself, I walked on to the next, a yellow door.
With renewed energy I stepped in to be met by joy’s
cheerful countenance, but this soon was obscured by
the unpleasant smell of sickness and foul decay.
Again, another hasty exit which led me to a purple door.
Inside I witnessed luxury; felt an aura of power, mystery...
at the same time foreboding gloom, and frustration
sent a shiver up my spine; uneasily I closed the door behind me.
Perplexed, abandoning my curiosity, I headed for the exit.
At that moment it dawned on me what Blake’s Hall stood for…
It was a clear reference to ... the doors of perception.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
© 31st March 2017
The Lion and the Gypsy
For some, life is simple in raw assertiveness,
With no disarmament of conscience and alertness.
Beneath a moonlit sky, a heartbeat from closed eyes,
The wild beast presides with power over life.
Sleep, child. Water to drink and music to compose;
Let the restraining odour fill the lion’s nostrils
Whose appetite is satiated and mind, perplexed,
Questions itself: “Is it living or is it dead?”
The gypsy, tranquil, reclines on the sands of time,
While the big cat is stymied by its unresolved find.
His, the will to survive with the instinct to kill and eat;
Hers, the want of love to create and the desire for peace.
Where now destined the lion and gypsy shift,
The outcome determined and the conclusion swift.
***
Note:
“The Lion and the Gypsy” is an ekphrastic poem perspective of the 1897 painting "The Sleeping Gypsy" by Henri Rousseau (1844–1910).
The hunter knelt to check the muddy ground.
He was perplexed. The tracks were heading north.
No bears had caves on this slope of the hill.
The quicksands were not very dangerous
but deep enough to block the wild beast.
The seasoned trapper smiled. The frightened bear
would be an easy prey, an effortless fur.
The huntsman stepped carefully through the scrubland.
He knew the thick bushes and thorny briars
could conceal venomous spiders or deadly snakes.
He was an ace. On the hilltop, the wind,
with fury, made the limbs of scattered trees
wave in a frantic and infernal dance.
The hunter saw the fearless bear — a king
presiding on a rock — staring at him.
He armed his rifle and picked up his cap,
fallen between the perfectly still weeds.
There was no wind. Not even a slight breeze.
He raised his head and realized with horror
that the dancing branches were the heads of
a hydra. The man tried to catch a knife.
But with his feet no longer on the ground,
he knew he was its helpless prey to strangle.
Global outreach and broken barriers
Carriers of diseases and hydroponics
Hypnotic supersonic satellite memories
Simmering beneath a veil of gray
Stay and memorize a million lies
Ties to be cut while the government denies
Demise is written in the stars
Scars molded into the very bone
Lone gunmen create chaos
Pay us in prayers and solitude
Gratitude in fictional farewells
Bells ring over a black sky
Why did it have to come to this
Kiss the hissing smoke
Choke on the idea it's all real
Feel everything burning slowly
Lonely is the one who knows the reason
Seasons come and seasons go
Flow from one line to the next
Hexed and vexed It was one last text
Perplexed it lacked all pretext
Annexed by a world that doesn't care
Nightmare unto nightmare solemn amen
Again we traverse and transmogrify
Occupy your mind and detoxify thoughts
Brought from regurgitated program shows
Dispose of the evidence as circumstantial
Substantial evidence in a simulation theory
When our TV goes to sleep we have this app that immediately awakens…it links to all our photographs…every photograph we’ve ever taken.
The photographs appear for a few seconds…chosen randomly from a vast array…enough to stir a memory before that memory fades away.
There is no chronology to their appearance…no rhyme nor reason…if you please…
They take us back and forth throughout our lives with alacrity and ease.
Birthday cakes, family vacations…a mountain landscape…a beautiful sky
Graduations…sunsets…family…holidays…all pass in the blink of an eye.
Camping, people who have passed, grandchildren playing football on the lawn…moments…just like life…there for a moment…then they’re gone.
As this slide show plays out in front of our eyes…usually we smile…sometimes we’re perplexed…as our memory tries to catch up from one picture to the next.
Most of the time we just ooh and aah…as different memories burst before our eyes…It’s kind of like watching fireworks…exploding across the sky.
We’ve found ourselves watching these memories and losing track of time
realizing how lucky we’ve been as together through life we climb…
Which is why you’ll often find us sitting in our living room
searching for memories we’d love to keep…
as they burst upon the screen…
when our TV goes to sleep.
it all started when I was a small girl
watching in slow motion the accidental death of my sister
that day, I became hidden and lost in my head
confused, dazed, muddled and puzzled, I was lost and astray
I just stopped talking, I was doomed
in my silent existence nothing was sure
my confidence wavered and I questioned God
but my imagination soared
my parents were baffled
they tried to get me help
one day, in my imagined world I thought I could fly
so I climbed out my window and tried, falling, falling
my dad heard me screaming and ran to catch me
I lay befuddled in his arms
"daddy, what happened?" his tears rained down
yet, I was still lost in my head
I grew up a silent girl, often distant and perplexed
always entangled in a world of fantasy where all was safe
and before you think me totally lost- it was the beginning
and birth of this writer . . .
_______________________________________________
February 23, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/lost
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1331-744-323
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, All Yours (Feb 24)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/27/2021
She turned to her wristwatch but to her dismay
Stuck on "6:59" perhaps time shall not be exposed!
She thought she was walking in the middle of the night
In that old street with an old streetlight
While everyone is asleep and at peace
Dreaming or snoring so deep
And cheers to her companion--- the cold breeze!
She met again that strange writings like traffic signs
There were arrows of direction both left and right sides
She got her head perplexed by the so-like cursive writings
Even if it takes million times she won't stop reading
If these are the keys to find the exit
She must now learn the language if it does exist
But, oh! she has nothing to count on
She's been stuck and perfectly alone
Her face glowed when she found a door
She instantly thought she's on her way home
And glowed even more when it opened
But to her dismay her eyes widened
She rested her exhausted body against the wall
And now she's torn between seven another doors!
She noticed the room in front of her
It has a triple six room number
She entered out of her curiosity
And in silence the door locked suddenly
Found a woman inside with eyes shut underneath a veil
Holding a piece of paper with both hands
While no words to hear but mouth danced
She kneel down beside the woman and faced the altar
She solemnly closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer
But stopped when she heard something blasphemous
And inevitably her head raised and mind disapproves
Might as well believe this woman is sanctimonious
The next thing she heard her body freeze
The woman suddenly turned to her with eyes like those from the beast
Held her hand tightly like being chained
While mouthed something and sounds like a latin curse
Before she knew it the room heats up
She wished to scream but to no avail
The devil's laughter echoed in every corner
And the heat painfully penetrated into the depth of her skin
Horror! Here's Hell to swallow her!
No! She shout but voicelessly
Her eyes surrendered as tears began to pour
But before her death comes, her mouth mouthed "Jeremiah"
The next thing happened was out of her knowledge...
Lockdown over, I had to head to school
my pupils waiting to learn the golden rule
I got ready and put on that mask
following the health protocols is a must
How would I each word articulate?
and those whole lessons explicate!
***
Principals in their towers have their say
and teachers, Skills For Life, have to convey
So eager to see my pupils and join the classroom
no time to spend with colleagues in the teachers room
Just virtual wishes.. Love and hugs
and the joy of all the social media tags.
***
I looked weird, in need of a breathing space
with that mask and my glasses, nothing remained of my face!
High time I proceeded with the warming up
avoiding to preach or give a negative heads up
A perplexed look in my pupils eyes I could see
a strong desire to build in them a motivational esprit
***
Nothing has changed, me doing all the talking
in day dreams they seemed to be sinking
My voice in the void echoed, "am I speaking Chinese?
I'm afraid, these are but the English language abcs!"
'If you can't turn the page, burn the book'. "Would you please paraphrase?
not all at once, please, one at a time as always!"
***
"Sorry teacher, we didn't bring our textbooks"
I was maddened but they got nothing from my looks
"Teacher, isn't burning books wrong and bad?!"
I felt deeply disappointed but could nothing add!
I see you've been learning English off by heart!
and with revision you've torn your minds apart!
***
We are wise and curious, teacher! glued to our smart phones
learning from Peaky Blinders.. Breaking Bad.. and Game of Thrones!
I thanked God I was wearing that shielding mask
I could resist my rage and carry off the teaching task.
To my pen, a deep gratitude for such a relief
such a consuming task could make funny and brief.
"Heather"
such a tumultuous quiet discourse
crochet hooked and thinking on wheels,
the wrong turns, sometimes thoughts move
to the recalcitrant one, another tumultuous heart,
mixed feelings like heavy storm clouds move
towards the vociferous missing one,
who looks on from that place in the gut,
intuition, the compass and metronome set,
viewed in the mind's eye, amygdala, from afar
and considers messages passed on
by a lost child, the keeper of a secret to be kept,
the child immovable, concerned for all,
the quiet closed mindedness of it all, hooking loops,
like a missed stitch in time, how one could have assisted,
yet became a back turned, calling in others to turn,
a lost chapter, a forgone conclusion,
the terrible failure of it all
the one writing thinks
of the royal colour, Purple,
and remembers the sister of Heather
laid out like a pale Rose in a silent garden,
risen the Rose remains standing by All, steadfast unseen,
perplexed, yet somehow understanding, watching over,
both stubborn purple bruised stories unfurl
Love arrives on the wings of angels
visiting the obdurate in dreams,
who stay close always though worlds apart,
the ghost remains, day by day
walking next to wheels that turn
of the one seated like a Queen unable to walk,
bloody minded unable to talk, crochet hooked
shifting gears automatic, the ghost guiding
quite hauntingly strange quills like keys far away,
that move hands of time to leave abstract messages on a wall
like music notes scored to be understood and conveyed
LOVE,
despite it all,
moves mountains
covered in Heather
the Royal colour
purple
the envelope opened,
the message relayed,
before a forest
a waiting Rose
and the mind
of a girl
new chapters
new worlds
meet in dreams
far away
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
hmm (forrest); and
ljb, llb
“I am permitted to travel in the corridor between sky and heather"
empathy.
“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker
The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
drifting into the eventide of agony…
So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
to veil visions of vanity,
to mask mirrors of melancholy,
to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…
Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
opalescent quiescence…
O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
of soundless rhythm…