Long Unheralded Poems
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Upwards you gazed, poignantly painting me
like no one had before, nor has done since.
Concentric white and yellow circles. Free
of any common bearing or pretense.
I'd seen idyllic villages before -
The steepled church in sacred echo of
the cypress, looking down in fond rapport,
as olive trees embrace the town with love.
But never have I seen hills so inflamed,
nor moon so agitated and insane,
nor indigo sky eddies so untamed;
grappling to find the answers to life's pain.
Vincent, you were art's unheralded prince,
Like no one was before, nor has been since.
(an ekphrasis of Vincent Van Gogh's "The Starry Night")
When I Google you,
I recognize the struggles and muggles you face,
I recognize the brutalities and the scars from decades of suppression and oppression which you endure;
The broken promises, failings and shortfalls;
I recognize the enormous work and journey ahead;
I see the repulse and self defeatist attitude occasioned
By broken hopes and aspirations;
I recognize the seasons and reasons for the youths failure to thrive,
In the face of hydra-headed battles confronting them daily
When I Google you,
I recognize the unmistakable hurdles, shuttles and scuttles;
The suppressed emotions, emissions, missions, visions, and vanquished voices of the voiceless,
The brazen helplessness, hopelessness and long worn faces
Of countless array of seen and unseen battles;
The dwarfed armory of opportunities occasioned by lack of vision, mission, emotions to thrive, ride and drive
But,
I can also envision:
The salient, but countless, unspeakable and unquenchable determination and desire in you;
The urge, surge, splurge, hidden treasures, pleasures, possibilities and the unheralded hope and abilities in humanity!
My seasoned Iroko
The Olumo rock
Of my spine
The one who climbs
Mount Kilimanjaro
With one step
I salute you
Mother,
Whose face is crisper
Than,
Bright, black stars, gold
And,
Precious diamonds of Africa
I salute you
Mother,
Who fearlessly tames fiery furnace
With bare fingers
Who kills one million lions
In a single raid
Quencher and killer of hunger
I salute you
Mother,
Whose slender arms
Are stronger than
The walls of Jericho
The fearless one
Whose Google
Makes men shrink
Between their thighs
The lone ranger
Who goes hunting
Without a gun
But,
Returns with basket
Filled with bounties
I salute you
Mother,
Kind landlady who nurtured me
For nine monthis
Without recouping rent
How can I forget
Your sugar soothing
Lullabies at bed time
And,
Your caressing, warm, tender fingers
Which,
Like the magic of baobab
Heal me from
Sickness and sadness
I salute you
Mother,
Whose dark, impenetrable wings
Immune me from
Sharp arrows of my traducers
Whose,
Angelic smile disarms
More than a billion
Straying demons
I salute you
Sweet, ebony, Mother,
The greatest of the greatest
The unproclaimed, undefeated,
Unheralded and undisputed
Champion of all heavyweights,
Killer and Quencher of hunger,
I salute you!
The heart stops and fight for life ends.
A floating soul no longer fantasies fate.
A sunset in small steps slipping into infinity
raucous grief sinking in black funeral cloaks.
Lustre of tears, O loved ones, in white beach
boreal air rustle, drifting away a gold carriage
long bristles of grass, blankets velvet moss
a blue night sky galvanized in whorls of light
in an array of alabaster snow of white clouds
like prophesies of poet, pigments of painter
repose in photonic sepia, a path to paradise
glimmering in spring flowers, the pearly gate.
Is this the elysium field...
where a rosary of magical blueberries bubble?
Is this the perfect Xanadu...
where dancing stars can hold the moon forever ?
Is this the sanctuary where souls awake
from their siesta of mortal desires ?
Is this the place where we get to see God?
But only a serene subterranean invisible river I see
through an unknown nonplussed neon light.
No pantheon of Gods, no perpetual pleasure
Just a grandeur glimpse of an old couple...
holding hands, smiling at what life had given
Unheralded I enter the seven colored heaven.
25th May 2020
Sponsor Regina Riddle
Contest Name Heavens
"Why is it", the donkey mused, "that horses get all the glory?
Seems throughout the ages its the same old hackneyed story.
We go unheralded and are treated with utter disdain,
While horses bear king and emperor about their vast domain!"
"Though we are somewhat ungainly and will never win a race,
We've born distinctive personages with extraordinary grace!
I'll tell you of unnamed heroes among our humble breed,
That will outshine the acclaim of any blue-blooded steed!"
"Mister Ed the talking horse has nothing on the donkey Balaam rode.
She saw an angel of the Lord in the way and promptly left the road!
Balaam cursed, the donkey talked some sass and was beaten thrice!
The angel was about to slay Balaam had he not heeded her advice!"
"A donkey was in the stable when the Prince of Peace was born.
Later to Egypt they fled - on a donkey Mary's Babe was borne.
For entry into Jerusalem, He chose a donkey, a borrowed one at that.
Hosanna! Hosanna! God's Son it was! There he regally sat!"
"We've had astride us preachers, desperados and hardy pioneers,
And have been accused of stubborness driving mankind to tears!
But when all is said and done, we provide reliable transportation,
Getting you slowly but safely to your ultimate destination!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Certain people in our lives
Help ease the days along.
Without them, we might flounder
And might not seem quite so strong.
They often are unheralded
Yet all the things they do
Allow us, with our challenges,
To somehow make it through.
And when they sometimes disappear,
For reasons of their own,
We mourn the loss of comfort
And security we've known.
But sadly, our acceptance
Of the truth makes a demand
That our minds make peace with knowledge
That our hearts can't understand.
Written for Noreen O'Connor, a devoted former
employee of Abbott House, an organization that runs the
group home of which my daughter is a resident
(she was let go) and Dario Jaquez, a doorman in
my building I've known since 1976 (he just retired).
They’re not for you
Nor you for them
Unwritten words from unwritten pens
Like shades of white
Blanks on a page
Unwritten words in an unwritten age
They speak in volumes
Though tongues may fail
Unwritten words that tell no tale
The poem that’s never penned
The bell that’s never rung
The hero who’s unheralded, unsung
For words unwritten
Are without heed
That none the wiser will ever read –
Unuttered words
Are words unheard
By man or beast or woodland bird
They give no voice
To mice or man
To emulate, evolve, or take a stand
And with no voice
No song to sing
The robin sighs and folds its wings –
Unspoken words
Are words unknown
In aching solitude adrift, alone
Unexpressed
And lost in time
As beacons in the night that never shine
BEYOND GLOOM OF GREY
A time came unheralded in my life when
Writhing in the crushing clutches of suffering
My heart broke and bled in pining pain
Found no comforting arms near to cling.
I took a plunge in the dense and dark sea of agony
Tried to swim across to the calming shore not in sight
Someone from within told me to try detached and see
Hope rise like sun in the day that dawns after the night.
My broken heart morphed into a bird, grew wing
And flew in freedom over the hill and far away
To a garden of rose blooming in the sparkle of spring
Under the azure sky emerging from the gloom of grey.
In ethereal scented solitude I sensed in my core
The essence of my soul opening the petals of peace
Tranquil ecstasy then started to cascade and pour
In my serene mind the florid shower of bliss.
Let the broken heart get the wings, fly free
Flowers in the debris of despair you’ll see.
May 22, 2018
Theme : Over the hill and far away
Contest : Let Your Pen Drip
Sponsored by : Broken Wings
You stand aside harvesting fields wide-eyed.
To collect the sheaves of leftover grains
Tatters in your old robes you try to hide.
As though they're gold sticks, you pick the remains.
You work, you even beg for your mother.
She is old, sick, and might be dying soon.
I hear you also have a small brother.
I know you love him as though he's God's boon.
It's for them you've foregone all your joys.
As a victor, you've withstood despairs.
In words and deeds, you've a unique poise.
Your smile-filled service has surpassed your tears.
Your love pulls me, dear unheralded saint.
I love you as you defeat each constraint.
CITADEL AND CONSTELLATIONS
The green leaves in rugged moans;
The tall bushes in rumbling groans;
The roofs train creaks-- their fugue
blow cobwebs hugging branches below,
such are precursors inviting darkness lair
for stormy clouds before crowd the days.
Yellow horizon seem unreachable honey
as in my life's ocean, balloon billows I bear.
I-- surged in every swell to skirt yet still
lashing waves dashed pushing me sometimes to despair.
Again, cataclysm walk unheralded casting loose
my arms lift upon the glimmer of silver lining from afar
somber shadows enshrouded me in a mist of struggles.
Ounce of strength I have, I try to juggle and juggle
yet, curses fell from hearts and lips parched of love.
All these came, one and all --
the flowing light has flickered flash and gone
but beyond all these you stood -- my sentinel...
You hushed the bad constellations hanging 'round my world
like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship to his home.
Yes! You are my beacon, a promontory amidst
cyclic onslaught brambles and chameleons,
a rock to cling in the wind's creeping fury,
Staunch and firm, my ñhero fighting the torrential
cascade of tirades and reproaches: MY CITADEL. . .
_____________________________________________________________________
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Your Favourite Old Poem #2
++Placed 2nd++
***Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name How You Make The Stars Hush
++Placed2nd++
©O.E. Guillermo
06:37 pm, February 24, 2015