Long Sneaked Poems
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I knew a group of ladies once, yes, I knew them quite well.
Let me tell you, they had some serious stories to tell.
No one spoke of them c’ept in between these four walls.
Because we didn’t have to worry about people listening in the halls.
Yep, these gals were some of the strongest, and smartest I’ve known.
It’s hard to believe that any unkind act to these women was shown.
Through the months that have passed truth comes out and feelings mount.
My heart is broken with each reluctant and teary account.
All of us held captive with each passing word,
disbelief in the fact of how familiar twas you just heard.
Someone else has thought and felt my very things?
Excited but also guilty of the joy that this brings.
So we settle back down taking deep breaths and sighs
And try to blink away the tears that sneaked up in our eyes.
Yes, these four wall hold secrets and tales of despair
But somehow with each other it’s become easier “out there”.
We are closer than close, a trust you’ll not seen anywhere
And each of us so different with our own kind of flare.
Through all of this we’ve come to know each other so well
I know all of us feel that….without our little group, life would be HELL.
2/2017
She dropped a white Corelle ware dish
tiny slivers and bits flew all over the kitchen
her husband did not make one sound
He understood to keep mum
She gave her old man a sharp look
Was he going to say something?
He had warned her not to put that dish on top of the refrigerator.
Was he going to say “I told you so?”
He did not even glance in her direction.
She wondered about it.
It was bizarre behavior.
Most people looked at a crash.
An hour later she caught him on the phone laughing.
Was it about her?
This was the olden days when phones had cords.
She sneaked up behind him, angry now.
He never laughed again.
‘I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins.’ Lauren Eden
inside the back door of our house our laughter rang out
as we sat chit-chatting around the kitchen table
playing board games or telling silly stories
upstairs at night we giggled in our bedroom
snacking on treats we had sneaked into our room
when dad would yell up the stairs at us to go to sleep
not able to quell youthful exuberance
for we had ties bound by a forever sisterhood
born by fate – I don't know
but molded nevertheless by our time together
secrets whispered in the dark
and heartaches assuaged sympathetically
fighting at a minimum
the place where today
though it be no more a building made of brick
is but a phone call away
Inspired by Iron Maiden’s song Dance of Death
When the transiting sun shined enchantingly,
spreading color spectrum in the chameleon sky,
I saw once the masked figures of ingenious craft,
walk with me enticed on the broken garden path.
At nightfall, I didn’t hear their footsteps prancing,
while their masks dissolved in the depth of darkness,
I saw their shapeless hollow faces
that chilled my spine immobile.
In the desolate domain of eerie milieu,
under the ebony shadow of the opaque sky,
on the murky hideous landscape desolate,
the nocturnal creatures danced lifeless,
stalking me as sinister night riders,
that slithered in the sly from the creepy forlornness
of the scary wild where I followed them entranced.
With the arcane image of death concealed,
as feral creatures of deceptive charm they lurked.
Like the sordid silhouettes of lethal menace
they stealthily sneaked with the shadow of dark danger
into the quintessence of my placid life.
They sipped my soul’s nectar from the chalice of squalid night,
enticing me to join them in the dance of death.
After the party ended in the middle of the fatal night,
the shapeless figures left one by one.
The psychedelic lights dissolved into gripping darkness,
the spiteful wild air rippled with the cadence of death.
Then I saw the figures return, floating in the rhythm of ballet.
Chiseled from the blocks of deadly darkness
their fragile frames configured from the vicious void
assembled to fill my lonesome emptiness
that danced to the music of death.
I sensed me sinking with my morphed essence
within the flowing trance of the mystique night.
I heard the distant bell toll faint for me,
the music of life’s violin stopped in an instant
within the time transcending depth of silence.
When my time flowed to the stilled past, I wanted to relive,
I felt the invisible cold grip take away my last breath,
until I emerged from the spell of trance,
when my soul arose from the fathomless unknown depth,
where I had been hypnotized,
making music in infinite solitude for the dance of death.
The sundown shroud of evening fell
To settle on the city's wreck
Of buildings broke by wicked spell
Called by fate's destructive beck.
And from afar they saw the shapes
Stark, bleak against the red sunset
The ruined outlined cityscapes
Unknown misfortune met.
The country folk had little need
And rarely ventured to the smoke
But still they could not but take heed
And wonder how those buildings broke.
So, from afar they wondered at
What strange calamity befell
The city that had been so great
But what they couldn't tell
A strange flock from the west emerged
The sunset blooded red their fleece
Had some uncanny demiurge
A flock of demon sheep released?
But, no, they were just simple sheep
That somehow seemed to be astray
Unanswered though the questions creep
To where the flock had been that day
The strangest tales are oft untold
And sealed before the tale's begun
Since they had sneaked out from the fold
What dark deeds had those sheepies done?
Chapter I
Part II: Power and emptiness
Mariah of Magdala!
Opulent woman yet juvenile
Did your 'hood' bestow upon you such affluence?
Look how youthful you are
Flawless beauty with an enchanting aroma
Like a spring in the wilderness
Of apparent mint breadth of solace,
Your velvet skin, Maria, of such cottony
How do you make your even delicate body soft, Mariah?
They make figures stick like Sahara honey on your sheath
Your eyes Mariah of Magdala
They see through a soul-like infinite
They see the pain and confuse them with pleasure
A short, well-lived excitement.
Where did you get those sharp milky teeth?
Well separated neatly arranged ages
Like a perfect green cob for export
Your Mona Lisa smile Mariah of Magdala
They make your face like the goddess
Did the same maker who created other women create you?
How biased?
For the best, you gained
Of perfect Eden plump on the season after another
They say thy fruits are the sweetest
We have the best adage than yours Mariah
Yet men threw stones at yours
They sneaked with weapons
Some dug deep holes ensuring no ending harvest
Some made wings with baskets
While others became your best of friends yet foes
Some were witty and gave you toxic cherry
Just for a piece of your pie
To have fruitage where they ever so desired
Each left with a piece of sweet melody
Their half-filled hearts thirsted
They longed to come back sooner than they had left
They fought among themselves
Did they slay for your Eden Mariah of Magdala?
Mariah of Magdala!
How did it feel to let them in one after another?
Did they hurt you? Did they make you happy?
Did it convey completeness to thy thirsting soul?
To see the sons of women destroying each other for you
Was it pleasurable?
Oh! Mariah of Magdala
Piece by piece they took off your humanity
Did they neglect you when you needed them most?
Did someone hurt your childhood?
Did they trade you for generational wealth, Mariah of Magdala?
Or did they curse you for the cleansing ceremony?
For that which made you this cardinal
Must celebrate in a cheer of win.
On a hot summer day the refrigerator lost its tune,
for its ever-loyal quiet drone stopped so very soon.
I stood in the kitchen breathing helpless air,
disquiet silence spread unease everywhere.
I pulled the door open with a hopeful mind,
the normal winding mist I expected to find,
but a draft of warm air sneaked out blunting my nerve,
I felt looming danger to what it was meant to preserve.
The milk inside the carton waited to turn sour, I did fear,
butter wilted in golden puddle formed in a muddle near.
The vegetables started withering in their tray,
as frozen freshness slowly began to melt away.
I gave the power plug one last desperate press,
listened for a cheering click for the end of mess,
but inert silence held the refrigerator in a warm grip,
as frosty freezer felt the heat, started to slowly drip.
As the cold domain gradually turned into desert hot,
on the repairman I had my trust for the skills he got,
but until he arrived with his tools without fail,
we had our early lunch before it became stale.
There was a whiz kid
Skilled at making a bid
Getting all the right deals
Being earnest never needing to steal
Took a day off
Claiming he had a cough
Sneaked out to his favorite watering trough
Where he sat all day
Not getting any pay
Taking another round
Enjoying the best Busch in town
“I head you like to fish
And get every wish”
His friendly server said
After the banker boy was well fed
“Yes I do”
Almost finishing drinking the brew
“I call it good P.R
Like talking at a bar”
Human interaction
A successful amusement attraction
Above in the television speakers
There was information for entrepreneur seekers
Hearing the business fellow
Explaining something as he bellows
Relaxing in the pub style cellar
This young chap
Not acting trapped
Was ready to call it a wrap
Upon leaving he mentioned something funny
To those working for money
They laughed
Thinking this patron only knew how to do the math
More importantly he was polite
Providing their afternoon delight
When things were done
Ending talkative fun
A stranger known to spin the lucky wheel
Enjoyed having the urge do something so others heal
It is not money one makes
Instead the time it takes
To talk and listen
About where to be in a social position
Choking on a tie
Having to lie
Or downing a few
Living honest and true
The Corps has lost many this year
Many of us have have shed a tear
Some from illness and mental health
Wish the grim reaper would lose his stealth
He sneaked up on these good men
To heaven he has taken them
For they were good people this is true
Please don't let the next be you
He's a crafty reaper this one
Taking people who should live on
In this last week he's taken three
This certainly should not be
From Tony to Dave and then PJ
I wish he would just go away
I know it's fact people die
It doesn't help us left to cry
These were members of The Royal Corps
Who had survived many a war
Communications was there game
The Signals Family won't be the same
To the family's of these good men
My heart and condolences I do send
It will not help you in your grief
But remember faith and belief
So my brothers and sisters raise a glass
To absent friends who's lives did pass
I know people have to go
Rest in peace CERTA CITO
My mouth went running off today, I watched her sprint through the
Yard, scaring a butterfly.
There was a bunny, who did not notice.
She summersalted six or eight times, tumbling
In an exuberant way, through some clover.
The clover did not mind, as she is light.
My eyes were the first to report.
Nose was miffed.
Holding a pout, as he thought she might have
At least mentioned it to him; he had not had an
Adventure in a long time.
Be quiet, cheek told him. We would all be dead
If mouth and you ran off; for we have to breathe
From something.
A little busy woman down the street called to report that she had
Watched mouth jumping on her trampoline; she had lost sight of her
A few seconds earlier, but thought she was headed for pond.
Pond did not have her, a relief. This was reported to me by a
Nosy neighbor who had never been involved until today.
I would have smiled, except….
Two other neighbors I had never met called to report sightings.
I would have laughed except….
My husband offered to retrieve mouth before supper, but I shook
My head ‘no’. Mouth deserved a bit of a break.
She sneaked in after midnight. I could smell she had been drinking, and
Perhaps up to other mischief. I wisely kept quiet, making eyes shut his eyes,
And shushing nose.
We all smiled a bit upon her return.
Love, Face