Long Thralls Poems
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Lost love once painted me as a blurred piece of art,
but I'd dry my teary eyes and agree to pose again
if you can promise that you'll never break my heart.
From the thralls of love, I have sworn to abstain,
although the thought leaves me filled with doubt,
but I'd dry my teary eyes and agree to pose again.
Perhaps the time has come to end love's drought,
then heartache will be nothing but a faded memory,
although the thought leaves me filled with doubt.
From misery and loneliness, I wish to be set free.
Paint a portrait of me, wearing a contented smile,
then heartache will be nothing but a faded memory.
Like 'The Mona Lisa,' portray me in da Vinci's style.
Giving love another chance, I'd bravely do for you.
Paint a portrait of me, wearing a contented smile.
Brush me as a woman but not in woeful hues of blue.
Lost love once painted me as a blurred piece of art.
Giving love another chance, I'd bravely do for you
if you can promise that you'll never break my heart.
April 8, 2022
An Original Terzanelle Contest
Sponsored by Milt Hankins
Today I sat and pondered and closed my eyes to see
On a sunny island I strolled, knowing what's ahead for me
Closer to the beach hut I could hear our favourite song
Through the louvred doors I go, as I catch a scent so beautifully strong
It's emanating from the bathroom, amidst a plume of moisture, steam
Slowly I reach my destination as I continue into my dream
My eyes peer through scented vapours, catching a shadow within my sight
Lavender surrounds two souls as I catch shapes of pure delight
My love, my maiden, my Queen, having exited from her shower
Thralls the man in me attracted by her womanly power
She glimpses she sees I'm there, her towel is offered to I
Closer we move to each other as my hands wander to dry
Her nape, shoulders and back touched as if by an angels wings
The song that lured me earlier, my heart now joyfully sings
To her hips I reach, whilst to my knees I fall
My heart now racing faster, my hands in drying sprawl
To me she now graces, azure blue eyes look down at me
Beauty in she abounds, through loved eyes my love I see
Crimson lips allure to mine, as if in magnetic trance
Naked we are, touching brushing, we enter into dance
Two bodies in tender abrasion, hands in adventurous roam
Alluring desires excite freely in our sunny island home
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
this clock on the wall, echoes through my heart's lonely walls
it laughs in seconds the pulsation of years long past
its hands stroke the circumference of my soul it thralls
it writhes against my memories in an outward cast
if only to rewind this torturous menace of time
step rearward beyond the past where you claimed my weary soul
to love you less, free my heart's chambers from this frozen clime
reclaim myself from your shadowed clutches and emerge whole
would pathways of my strides vestige less in absence of you
or become aberrated in the distance of time's beat
would my soul escape darkness and linger in brighter hues
or remain lost in the echoes of this clock's haunting bleat
October 8, 2019
If only we could turn back the hands of time Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Racking, fracking, fricker dickers -
there it goes again stirring all my inner jitters;
my pc, tablet, phone and friends
blank screens locked immovable in place again
while tweets and texts disappear in phantom space.
Techno blab excites me
and the mesmerizing call invites me
but searching play on the blank display cueing
frustrates my mind to forget just what I'm doing
and at my fingertips the troubles brewing.
It's a slam dunk OCD call
to play games and tweet within the web thralls
lost in wavelength microwave wifi
while communication stalls and dies
and that's the truth, no lies.
Curse you internet!
I painted portraits of you in my heart
till' dark clouds allowed pouring rain to fall
washed away paintings hung that fell apart
to leave my heart's chamber an empty hall
my love for you held portraits that I hung
now a darker place with its vacant walls
where my love's dust becomes a wormwood dung
when love died slowly in pain-filled thralls
this chamber, this hall, now a silent place
that's shrouded by a darkness of morass
when vanished portraits left a lonely space
where doors are closed and no one may trespass
For all my painted portraits I will weep
When I find them in my dreams when I sleep
As the curtain
falls to pool,
a silent reverie
falls to ground
Amputated in
thralls hold,
the bereft
wandered
in Netherlands,
subsisting
on remembered be-fores,
spotlights and sweat-ed
applause
‘Break a leg’
is what they say
but diminished spirits
from crushing critics
ever smashing
to review,
all hope,
dashed
and newspapers
flutter on fences,
cruel proclamations
and opinions
now today’s
garbage,
remembering
ones discontent
Ringing from cords
while lungs grasp for air,
and in the rapture
of feeling
is the glamour,
of one string
feathering to vibrate,
all dimensions
of time
In claps of applause
are leads of rapture,
now connected,
the universes
symphony
starts transmitting
Black curtains
in time,
opened to infinity
and applause
reverberated,
in One
Something beside me Darkness mirrors something's engulfing me a barrage of vision across the path split in half shines the Drone
Shadows
The light the Stars the Moon and the Sun above me Casting the non beauty celebrated light 3/4 around transition. Casting about the dark and on the ground stands beside me shadows being Gray turn to black where am I and why is it always by my back. Side to side depleted of light.
There's a still small soft voice twinkling the screams of humanity decreasing and through the Chaos Control walls and abundant sounds screams round and round it doesn't come there for us already here the twinkle sounds of the barrage faint spoken words the cooing the newborn babe shallow verse...shhh! It is near no it's here. Can't you feel it ?hear what? The willow breath, hear the faint, silence breath screaming cease Bocuse crest from the outer to inner ear Spears sounds of
Whispers
I fell into the Blackness into the hole of Darkness internet Venture data thralls me the faint voice that calls me and yet I am surprised by the Shadows I am enlightened and startled by The Whispers but the man yelling and my suppression and in my depression I am depleted of a logic of the reason of my mind Flint wind I do find that I am started I'll be holding how long have I blast it I am in all what's on my knees I get up I stand I want away from my crawl I Am starter an enchantment I am the lightest by my containment Landing in adventure of my mind is reality the Syfy and I am grasping that's why I ...
Gasp
Intuit?
I
Submit to
Shadows
Whispers
Gasp
5/2/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
“For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10)
In exile ‘midst the southern timbers’ walls,
My chamber bleeds the candle’s dimming thralls.
Upon the midnight blaze, I weep in vain,
Awaiting courts beneath Islamic reign.
For mother’s blood lay cold and carpet stained,
And thus the village pointed me to blame.
As peril looms and fate constricts my soul,
My heart grows dreary, sweat consumes me whole.
In shaking breaths, I glare above the coals,
The wooden cross reveals a burning gold.
“O’ Father, lay upon me warming hands,
Amidst this sea of wolves, I walk a lamb.”
I am the way, the truth, and the life:
no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
In darkness shines his light of blinding grace,
Upon my chamber blooms his loving face,
He stands above me, arms in gold embrace,
As holy wonder sets my soul ablaze.
“My son, why dost thou meddle in thy woes?”
“O’ Lord, my soul lay barest in their throes.”
“And whoso dost thou fear, thy dove or crow?
For hearts of men lay barren ‘midst my throne.”
Be not afraid, only believe.
I wake, my chamber blind without a flame.
With peril knocking, father calls my name:
For do I heed the judgement of men,
Or the mercy of the Lord?
The songbird sings because she must,
her voice a trembling act of trust.
Her wings press tight to iron bars,
a cage that steals her sky and stars.
She remembers how the wild winds felt —
a freedom stolen, not dispelled.
For memory’s echo, soft and slight,
can hollow even morning’s light.
The bear still paces, slow and worn,
a creature grown from grief and scorn.
Step, turn, step back — the silent plea
of something trapped that should be free.
Even asleep she feels the walls
closing like hands in quiet thralls.
Some beasts grow huge, some merely break;
both suffer for the captor’s sake.
The snake lies coiled, her spine confined,
a tightness clinging to her mind.
She sheds old skin in layered grief,
but finds in each no true relief.
What’s left behind upon the floor
still haunts the shape she takes once more.
For pain, once worn, will often stay
no matter how she fades away.
The wolf stares out through latticed wire,
a ghost of dusk, of wild desire.
Her eyes should mirror nights unbound,
but now reflect the fenced-in ground.
She growls at shadows of her past —
the forests lost, the futures cast.
The world she knew has slipped from call,
and left her here, inside a stall.
And then —
there is me, caught just the same.
I am the bird denied the sky,
the bear who walks though she would fly,
the snake who sheds but still holds pain,
the wolf who mourns what won’t return again.
My bars are memories, sharp and thin,
built from the ache beneath my skin.
I breathe, the walls breathe back at me —
a quiet kind of misery.
And so I whisper, soft and true:
I know your cage.
I wear it too.