Long Still no sign Poems
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O ,wherefore thou ,is thy Sestina Angelina?
she is not here ., thy love thy dove
thou angel eyes hover...oft high above
Tis thyself, a gentleman who doth wait
whilst me dreams and longs to view her gracious gait
I shall dwell ,tarry here in the dark
I must appeal to the day ; canst read her sonnets by dark
But , Joy ! Can hear the bells of her Villanelles.. me Angelina
Me beauty uses classical , graceful words that match her giddy gait
Me elegant ,enchanting dove
I shall remain, I shall wait
For thou, Sestina thy Angelina sent from above
I pace the earth with a weary gait
Me mind wanders ; travels to heights above
longing for me heart, me dove
whilst me dwells,tarries, here in the dark
imagining thyself with Angelina
Thy Sestina , as I , here , wait
I cry, here, in the dark
float in thy head above
O where, O where, is thy turtle-dove?
Is she, too ,in the dark ,
Me angel face, Angelina ?
Shall I further wait?
I growest more weary to wait
anticipation marks thy gait
Still, no sign from me Sestina,Angelina!
I will pray to God above,
on my knees, here, in the dark
whilst I await the return of thy dove.
Alas! Hark, do I hear me dainte dove?
Shall I run to greet her,or patiently , here, wait ?
Shall I continue in this dark ?
Where is she? Didst me not hear the crick of the gait?
Special Notice: Angelina not recorded here nor above!
O , me , O me , O why, me Sestina Angelina ?!!
O ,wherefore thou is thy Sestina Angelina; she is not here .,thy love thy dove
thou angel eyes hover...oft high above; Tis thyself, a gentleman who doth wait
whilst me dreams and longs to view her gracious gait; I shall dweel here in the
dark .
Copyright McCuen 2008
She got it for her wedding gift,
but she dropped it when she fell off the cliff,
it sank to the bottom of the ocean,
and the excitement caused a great commotion.
From dusk till dawn
they float on the ocean,
from dusk till dawn
they were filled with emotions,
sunrise, sunset
and still nothing in their nets.
They went deep sea fishing in a fishing boat,
searching for the pearl in the Bivalvia's throat,
with cracked lips and scorched backs,
they drift around the ocean,
everyone with great devotion.
Suddenly she bursts out in tears,
and explains how it was so dear.
They dived to the bottom of the ocean,
floating back and forth in slow motion,
life at risk from shark attack,
but she did not care about that.
They caught a hundred fish
but still no sign of her priceless gift.
When they went back to land
she saw a clam moving in the sand
she opened the little clam
and her precious pearl fell right into her hand.
©2013 Christine Phillips
Ballad : Just another odd guy*
He was just another odd guy
With a self-abnegating smile
He spun no known wilful ploy
Enough – just look at him a while
Others came to camp by the Seine
And watch the folks saunter by
His place by the Pont , it was plain
No one ever wished to occupy
He made no show of his wild child’s face
Querying side-boards curled round ears
Nor no look of pain would surface
From behind the mask’s ravaged years
He was just another odd guy
With a self-abnegating smile
Meek children looked him in the eye
Where some gleam of mutual ties shone
Babies blinked hardly an eye
To take in his clucked smile forgone
No hint of a past hung o’er him
No woman came by with a flask
Nor some grown lad with the shopping
He emerged from behind a mask
He spun no known wilful ploy
Enough – just look at him a while
No regrets sagged down his full lips
His chin held firm and tipped upward
Bushy brows spoke well of his tips
Though crown to nose-bud bit wayward
One could read weary clothes threadbare
His shoes could speak of miles out-worn
And the wriggly strands of his haïr
Reminded one of wild thoughts torn
Doves and crows alike found his hand
Outstretched with crumbs from some table
No sparrow stilled on wing sought land
Without some morsel to unravel
Weeks went by in screeching silence
And still no sign of him rode where
His winged friends kept in his absence
The stone-slabbed bench warm through bare air
Some unsuspecting passer-by
Wrapped in lone airs comes to this spot
Makes as if to stay with a sigh
Yet moves along to some other plot
He was just the other odd guy
With the self-abnegating smile
His trusted friends all gone to fly
In weird worlds beyond the last mile
All looking for that other guy
With his empty hands and a smile
He would spin no known wilful ploy
Just remember him for a while
• After posting the poem, I came across the line :
« I’m just an average guy » in the Masqueradors’
song of 1969, so I’m constrained to change the same
phrase in my poem to : « Just another odd guy. »
Things like this happen when we use words.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Metamorphosis
Tracing footsteps in the overgrown field
where sunlight and raindrops date
Counting sticker burrs like lemon drops
in a candy counter display
Hitchhikers I remember them called,
lovers of socks and pant legs I think
Each with their own story to tell,
minute worries clinging to that last hope of life
The path, familiar but then again not,
it leads somewhere else now
Dragging shadows like kite strings,
knotted in the weave of its boundaries
Taking in my surroundings and releasing them
for another may find them useful as well,
I find still no sign of that last phrase,
spoken softly but misunderstood…is my understanding
A collection of stone and gravel stew
finds my shoe souls imaging in the dry dusty paste
Outlines of thoughts, perhaps poetry in oblong shapes and
perfect tread patterns stamped and posted,
showing no indication of my ever being here
Staring now at a cocoon on a lone branch, I see
what my life had been, dark and lonely, dreaming of the colors,
feeling confined but grateful for the transformation
You smiled, I smiled, my wings appeared and I flew,
as might a rainbow on a balloon, soaring until the tiniest speck
in the sky could be me or just something on your glasses
Light headed in a good way, free at last to define love,
the metamorphosis of my heart,
the changing of a man into more than he could hope to be,
seeking and finding that blossom,
sweet nectar, a sugary substance, love deep in the petals of life
Though, no one told me of the life span before hand,
no calendar hanging on my wall with circled dates highlighted in red,
nor a stamp of expiration anywhere on my heart,
good if used by…used by, funny I should write that now
as my attention rests still on this cocoon,
wondering where I went wrong,
somewhere on this path lies the answer…
for I once was a butterfly, just as you will be small cocoon,
at which time you will learn…
it is easier to fly with a heart that is unbroken
The smell of dirt and concrete
The sound of cars and crickets
As I glare into the night sky
Patiently, I await its appearance
Perhaps it is shy as it hides
But it shall reappear again
As my emotions begin to clear up
I can see the red emanating from it
But as soon as I can see it,
It soon runs away again
Hiding behind the grey darkness,
But it cannot dim its glow
"When will it show, oh, where will it go?" I wonder
"Oh, why is it afraid?"
Is it fearful of the peering pupils?
As all colours look up to the sky except one,
As red is afraid to show its eyes
I begin to lay on my back,
As I touch my heart and feel the beat throughout me
I continue to wait for the hidden to become the unhidden
I stare straight up, with patience
My hand begins to reach out towards the night which feels so close
I attempt to touch it as disappointment rushes over me,
As I realize my palm does not connect with the sky
Again, I look into the grey,
But still no sign of red or white,
As my heart begins to sway
Is it gone? Shall I depart?
Or will it soon show its true form?
Doubt fills my heart as it begins to darken,
Both it and the night sky
Then, I suddenly feel a sense of anger and abandonment
Has it left me just like the glows of the night?
The liveliness and bright lights left suddenly,
As I begin to assume that it shall leave me too
My energy begins to dissipate as I yearn for comfort
Those awaiting it have now left it,
As now it has left them
Only I lie in the middle of the concrete,
Craving for something that may never show
I stand to yell at the dark night, asking
"Where do you hide and why do you lie?!"
My skin begins to itch as I peer into myself
Time passes and death awaits us all,
I realize time is only temporary
I only saw glimpses of colour,
As I finally realize that the grey and black darkness may never clear away
Grey shall cover the black
Grey shall cover the red
Silence is all I hear now.
another sunny day has come and will go away this is how my day began.sitting in the sun on
the front porch of "kathy's hair salon"basking in the sun and being chocked by the clouds of
cigerette smoke in the air.two young girls in a mustang looking cute talking o the phone
never realized it might be there last goodbye.im swamped my mosquitos and traffic all
around,never imagining the relity of that horrible crash sound.
bang crunch slam.spun around and flew into the ground people screaming all
around."someone call 911'.a man came running from out of the crowd screaming outloud
to the girl on the ground.he checked for her pulse as he watched her bleed gave her c.p.r
with air to feed.no help had arrived no one coming to help only god knows whats next in this
horrible mess.
she gasps for air but cannot move its obvious to all she lost control.no movement in her body
no voice from her mouth who is this little girl what happend to her world?exhaust fumes mixed
with gasoline is corroding the air still no sign of help is on the way there.to the man on the
scene he only wants to help but to others shes a black girl and really nothing else.
to end one life to spare one more as she lays helpless on the ground.
suddenly a siren from out of the crowd rushing to help but not allowed.the crowd begins to
throw bottles at the men on the scene,it becomes a factor that race is what they mean.little
girl lost in a white mans town,paralized and confined and wheelchair bound.finally they get to
help the girl but suddenly she realizes her friend might not be alive.
as they put this little girl in the ambulance she looks to her right and sees whats next.its her
frien in the crowd standing tall standing proud giving her the finger as she walks away.
Form:
It's up and down and twice around
With an ample side of snark and leeks.
And an assortment of lies divided by pi,
To find this thing I seek.
I searched my bedside dresser
In the hope to find it there.
But not to be, so I was forced to see
If it was in a box beneath the stairs.
The box was bare and empty
Which did not aid in my relief.
As i was lo' to explain, why it no longer contained
My most cherished held beliefs.
But I digress and that aside,
I looked beneath a bedroom chair.
And where I thought... my valor ought,
I found just a wisp of empty air.
Undaunted by this troubling news,
I remembered a desk that I had bought.
Where I found a mortal slice of wasted life
But still no sign of what I sought.
So undeterred, I left the room
To explore the very nature of my soul.
Where I was forced to roam with no one home
And found just a bigger hole.
I then paddled through my memory
To bring to bear both time and space.
But the fog of age is a paltry sage
And would not expose its hiding place.
I remember not too long age
When It had been my ardent guide.
I'm not afraid to tell, it had served me well
With no providence denied.
But with many years of gross neglect,
It had become a shadow of my past.
And something so grand without a plan...
Is never meant to last.
So my search proved vain and fruitless
But I attempt to soldier on.
And in my despair, I turned to prayer
To question where my love for life had gone.
The End
*Dedicated to those just having a bad day.
*I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day or so.
I know all things begin and end in eternity,
There have always been visitors,
I’ve seen them, haven’t you?
It’s scary how we treat them,
But would they treat us any differently?
Leaving the lights of LA way behind,
I’m heading for the blue remembered hills.
I don’t want to go back,
I've got everything here.
But when I look around, I see
That the only thing that I haven’t got
Is my freedom.
Look back to how it should and should not be,
Stacks of Gold teeth and glasses and clothes.
A history in pictures overflowing with grief,
One mistake and your life is over,
Just like the one armed man shovelling snow.
And still no sign of the red coat,
Listen to everything that she said.
Then shoot her in the head for being right.
They’ll take you from your homes,
And fill the ghettos with your kind.
You might as well be dead,
If they leave you there behind.
There’s no where left to hide,
And you don’t know who you can trust.
So many people dying,
A river of blood mixed with the dust.
How heavy does your heart feel?
To watch the senseless waste of life.
Covering your ears and holding your breath,
As the sound of a thousand feet run by,
Trying to be invisible.
When all the hiding places have been taken,
Tears are not enough
It will only make it worse.
The man with the gun in his hand
Playing Russian roulette with your lives.
One day I know he might shoot me
Secrets are something that I can’t hide.
The more I see, the more I fear,
I look through him, hoping that he does not see me.
Sometimes it’s not wise to know too much,
The more I see, the more I cry.
To be drunk with all this power,
Is not the same as being insane.
I hide when I can, but I can’t hide away forever.
Form:
When heaven is shut up, and there is no rain,
because they have sinned against thee; if they
pray toward this place, and confess thy name,
and turn from their sin ...
Then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the
sin of thy servants ... and give rain upon the land
1 Kings 8:35 - 36
The land is parched,
there has been no rain in over a year
The river is bone dry,
forecast says the skies will remain clear
The cattle are dying,
as are all the crops
You’re bleeding credit,
and still no sign of any raindrops
It is for certain,
a famine is afoot
The sky’s an iron curtain,
all of your savings are took
The eyes of the wife and kids,
have an empty, fatalistic look
And you cry,
because you don’t understand why
You’ve done all you can,
you even sold your best gun
Listen to the barren land,
you’ve left something undone
That holy book on the top shelf
covered in cobwebs and dust
Better open it while you’re able,
even better, in it start to trust
Although you never once
stopped praying for rain
Is it the right prayer that you’re asking?
Everyday you pray for rain,
so you can go on living
But you never asked once
to have your sins forgiven
Pray for rain
Pray for understanding
Pray for rain
Pray for forgiveness too
Go back to your first love,
your God, whom you abandoned
like an ungodly fool
Then say your prayers,
asking God to have mercy on you
>
Your car fishtailed in the slush
that was already
beginning to freeze,
as if you couldn’t wait
to get away after
dropping me off at
the library
on Christmas Eve.
I had just started reading
the books I checked out
when the librarian
flashed the lights before closing
and I found myself
back on the street again,
at twilight,
waiting for you.
The snow was falling faster now,
soft as the pages
tucked under my arm,
but the cold got into my shoes.
I shifted the books
from hand to hand,
too proud to set them down,
too cold to feel my fingers,
and still no sign of your car.
The church bells had tolled nine
by the time you showed up—
not in your car,
but in a taxi
because you’d forgotten
where you parked.
You smelled like whiskey and snow,
and swung the door wide
and invited me in.
Mom was almost finished
decorating the tree
when you stumbled and fell
into it and brought it down,
glass breaking like a gasp.
She dragged you around
the living room by your ear
while the tree leaned drunkenly
against the sofa,
twinkling sideways,
its broken ornaments catching
what little light was left.
I took my books to my room
without a word,
curled up beneath the covers
and opened the one
on colonizing Mars.
Outside, snow kept falling
like nothing had happened.
I could hear you arguing
through the wall and the tree
never stood quite right
for the rest of that year.