Long Ruefully Poems
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Lisa, a fellow freshman who lives in our neighbor suite, is a breathtaking beauty from New York - the kind of beauty that toppled ancient Greek empires - a sun-like beacon to the male sex. Anna (one of my four suitemates) gasped and said, “The gods walk among us.” The first time we saw her at orientation.
If Lisa lays in one of the hammocks in the quad to study - in minutes there’ll be 10 guys doing athletic male things like throwing footballs and foot juggling fobs - anything olympian and roughly physical to show off and draw her interest.
Late one afternoon, Anna and I were studying and watching such a scene from a second floor patio garden. Sunny, (another of my suitemates) just returning from class, took in the scene. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Are you smelling roses?” Anna observed.
“Better than roses,” Sunny said. Looking down at the preening guys. “They’re gorgeous,” she sighed, “Why can’t I have just ONE?”
“They’re already entranced.” Anna said, peering over her sunglasses.
“Awwww!” Sunny purred, “Look at the pretty one in the orange shorts.”
“Too late, I said, “she’s already culled him out from the herd.”
It was true, Lisa was slowly leading him away from the pack, spellbound.
“She’ll probably eat him.” I said.
“How does she DO that?” Anna asked admiringly.
“I don’t think she even tries - it’s probably pheromonal.” Sunny said ruefully.
Our envy isn’t raw enough to curdle into dislike - we agree that she doesn’t seem to TRY to be the center of attention - we just wonder where she finds the time for it all.
She ruefully commented, “Dreams are for the night
At daytime, they vanish in the light
Night and day cannot stay together
There are many storms which we have to weather.”
So saying, she looked depressed
All her hopes of living with me dashed
I answered
She, listening to every word
“But some dreams do become reality
At least, once in a while
The thing is-
“Are you prepared to walk the extra mile?”
Her big, beautiful eyes brightened
She tried to make amends
“My love can make me wait for you eternally
But my heart seems to be somewhat in a hurry.”
The sky blushed red
As I pointed to her and said,
“Look, there at the horizon
Same with us
One day, two lives will become one
And that also forever and ever
Just have faith in yourself
And have faith in your lover.”
She rested her head
On my broad shoulders
Sitting there amidst the boulders
Both engrossed watching the earth embracing
Leaving both of us aflutter, pulse and heart racing……..
“Lost love returns on waves of memory
in the sea of melancholy” – Quote by Poet
My gloomy sky showers sonorous rain with melody of tears,
the drenched debris of my shattered heart ruefully hears.
The rainbow colors paint your portrait in transient twilight,
the clumps of gilded cloud frame it on their fervent flight.
As its shimmering shadow floats in the sea of my emotion,
in the squall of passion my longing waves dance in elation.
Before your image sinks into dismal depth of my morose core,
the waves bring it back, adorned with pearls, to my mind’s shore.
Why did a cauldron of bedeviled bats fly right
into the grim windows splattering their blood
on the shards of glass strewn all over the floor…
What drove them to their gruesome death?
These nocturnal creatures that can navigate
a labyrinth of caves skillfully.
I leaned ruefully against the darkened wall
of this abandoned house, pondering;
Alas, if only these broken windows can
tell the tale of that foreboding night.
Ensnared, entangled, entrapped, entwined by life…
Venturing to escape is to embrace death!
Hugging the shadows of incarceration I wait
for the light of liberating death to shine upon me
and wrap me in its ethereal grace.
Cast out of Paradise, and a stranger in the mortal world,
I am cursed with an angelic beauty
like a rose blooming in the desert only to wither
in its scorching heat—unnoticed, unsung!
Like a fallen warrior seeking deliverance
like a wayward soul seeking salvation,
Unable to reconcile with either world.
When the last golden sun streak is vanishing
into clouds under the darken canopy of night.
The shivering dust settles behind the evening,
of cloudy Satire coming with new dawn of light.
Patrolling the traces of low whispering voices,
following the Verve of strange words in the air,
Sentence disappear again into clandestine vices
The choice of deeds nights is reluctant to share.
Bar and restaurant recommend to go the extra mile
after ruefully losing their keys the best thing to do,
is to make guests welcome with a smile,
the assured voice speaking louder than we want to.
Amorous thoughts locked behind closed doors,
only the sound of voices breaking the silence,
Heroes of the night, walking by on hotel floors,
bound in code by the laws of their conscience.
Energy roll away into spaces of sleeping room
corporate pleasure at the expenses of leisure,
Upper decks not lower into drapes of gloom
for lovers to lay their heads and count treasure.
The day is lit again rinsing away voices captured,
amidst the wanderings curious moments flow,
remains a mystery to know the voices that chatted
behind closed doors where hunger desires go.
Old barns, old folks and old wine - an unlikely trio upon which to muse,
But the analogies will become manifest as upon each I proffer my views.
Though the vicissitudes of life have taken their toll on each (that is very clear),
They tend to become more beautiful and majestic with each passing year!
Old barns once sported crimson paint and were so handsome in their day,
But o'er the years the scorching sun turned their boards to a silvery gray.
A fragile framework of hand-hewn oak and wooden pegs holds them together.
They lean precariously but despite the howling gales, they resisted raging weather!
Like old barns, old folks may wear a few scars and wrinkles here and there,
And lean upon a cane to steady themselves and wear crowns of silver hair,
But 'tis the inner beauty of their very souls that shines in all they do,
Having overcome the storms of life and the seasons they've struggled through!
Alas, old barns and old folks lose their sap as their years steadily decline,
But they gracefully mellow as they age like a splendid vintage wine!
They've both maintained their dignity through many trials untold,
But each of them must ruefully face the fact that they are growing old!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
With underlying arms well akimbo
Seductively they glance at each other
Smiles seasonally defined
Amidst celebration in the bed of rose
Gently they pulled their panties
Preaching to one another amidst copulation
The Bible too far from bed
Humbly replaced rubber cum metal
None was Godly alarmed
The Reason for the season ruefully undermined
Where then lies the climax
As ejaculation overtakes redemption
Who will save the saving Jesus
Lonely outstretched on the cross
Works already ongoing on the second grave
Christ Himself has run drought of blood
Where lies a candid remorse
For the pints already outpoured
Salvation has grown archaic
Wooing versus soul winning epitomize affray of the moment
How can the immoral game be refereed
The spinster is much in need of it
Gently lovely lowly she plays her wing
Who can suspend the salacious match
Time is here at hand
When Christ Himself shall arise with whistle
Showing the end of the match
And making selection for next league
Being the reason for the season
© Izunna I. Okafor 2017
The flashy words he deftly chose to seduce,
and with practice these became florid.
One word he once inadvertently let loose,
that he had kept for long under the lid.
He did this long after she came in his life,
sailing together in time in a fervent way,
until they were hit by the storm of strife,
and she had started to slowly drift away.
His door was open, she did not return,
the last thread of hope he had lost pained.
A simple word then grew in his heart’s urn,
but he had kept it as a captive chained.
His longing for her did not ever wane,
he disliked to see her get hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the load of pain,
knew not when the captive’s chain he tore.
For her the injury could not be greater,
as his spite spurted the simple word 'hate'.
It was mea culpa, he ruefully realized later,
but belated, for it had sealed their fate.
______________
March 21, 2023
Contest : A Simple Poetry
Sponsored by : John Lawless
The hardships of my life
Are like a clump of maggots digging through my skin
They are deep within...
How do I inspect them? Where do I begin
When I am in profound distress and sin?
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all illnesses
I’m defected…but yet You cleanse me from any blemishes or messes
I’m dejected…but You certainly lift up my spirits
But I’m far from being resurrected…I’m ruefully neglected
Jaded by the nightmares…striking me with discord
Like a released sheep roaming in the plains of fate
How do I encounter with my shepherd?
Are we ever going to integrate?
When I’m a lost, stray animal…trampled down by a frown,
Worn-out by my regret and knowing my demise is my royal crown
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all diseases
I’m defected…but yet You purified me from any filth or squalidness
I’m dejected…but You certainly lift up my spirits
I’m infected…but yet You healed me from all wretches
I’m defected…but yet You cleanse me from any blemishes or messes
I’m dejected…but You certainly pumped up my heart
But, Lord I’m far from being resurrected…I’m contritely mistreated
I’m infected…but yet You dealt with all of my despair
I’m defected…but yet You cured me with blessings you address
I’m dejected…but You definitely rely on my faith that I kindly share
But I’m aching recklessly…but I’m still in progress!
The tribulations of my life
Are like a cluster of wasps, stinging me with vigor in my shin
They puncture me deep within…
How do I infect their nests? Where do I begin
When I am in profound melancholy and cave in
Tell me, Almighty Lord, why do the demons ensnare me with their curses?
They won’t break the tension…in these godforsaken verses!
One word I inadvertently let loose
from those I had kept in control for long,
the flamboyant ones I carefully chose,
over time with practice they became strong.
I did this after you came in my life,
we flowed in time in the usual way,
until we were struck by the surge of strife,
you had started to slowly stray away.
That was when the word entered my heart’s den,
but I had kept it shackled as captive,
for you to return my door was open,
from debris lost hope I couldn’t reprieve.
My yearning for you did not ever wane,
I did not want to see you hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the heart pain,
did not know when the captive’s chain I tore.
In the open wound like a pinch of salt
from my spiteful mouth came out the word hate,
I ruefully confessed that was my fault,
but belated, for it had sealed our fate.
_____________________
January 29, 2022
Syllable count : 10 per line
Checked on PS Counter
Contest : Latin Lessons
Sponsored by : Margarita Lillico