Long Unmarred Poems
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In the blush of new vows, beneath a veil laced with disdain,
She rose like a queen in her freshly forged reign.
Arrogant bloom in a garden of friends, ever keen
To please them with wit, lest their favor should wane.
Not one word to offend, no ripple to mar their delight
Yet her tongue, sharp as thorns, turned upon her own knight.
“Oh, bless his dull heart,” she would trill with a glittering laugh,
“How he stumbles through ledgers, how he snores like a calf.
Men are but props in our liberated play
See how I rule him, yet stand independent and gay!”
Her friends sipped their secrets, eyes veiled in polite disguise,
Their marriages rooted in quieter skies.
They nodded and chuckled, safe in their long-harvested peace,
While she carved at his pride for their fleeting applause, piece by piece.
He bore the bright barbs with a smile cracked and thin,
As her pride danced for approval, chasing their spin.
Each jest was a chisel, each laugh a small blade,
Till the marble of marriage in silence decayed.
The ring slipped like sand through her arrogant grasp,
The papers arrived cold, sealing vows to the past.
She lost him, the husband she publicly shamed
While her friends’ unions endured, unmarred and untamed.
Now silence descends like a frost on her door.
Invitations grow scarce; group whispers no more.
Her calls echo hollow through corridors bare,
Her friends drift like leaves on a wind of cold care.
They shield their own husbands with courteous shields,
Afraid of her influence, her mocking that yields
Only ruin and regret in its arrogant wake
A plague they would spare from their own hearths’ sake.
“She pleased us too dearly,” they murmur in shaded retreat,
“Her fire consumed what she claimed was her seat.”
Alone in the echo of laughter once sown,
She clutches the crown of a queen overthrown.
For pride, when it sharpens its wit on love’s breast,
Cuts deepest the hand that once held it in jest.
She traded her union for friends’ fleeting cheer,
And watched, in the ruins, her arrogance clear:
The circle she courted now circles away,
Protecting their gardens from her withering sway.
The night and dark comes earlier each evening
lost between twilight looming on the horizon,
pushing aside the sun’s revealing
of the darkness that simply is.
Shortening days disappear between the trees
forcing the sun to fade from yellow to pale white,
and the once abundant harvest dies with ease
and is gone as quickly away she disappears.
The dark is black and silent as it comes
hovering as if it were known yet is an unfamiliar shadow
that creeps in uninvited with a stinging wind that numbs
threatening wet days filled with snow to cover the meadow.
The sky displays tiny dots of twinkling light unmarred
far distant glowing points with small icy fingers
that curve around the big dipper and other unnamed stars
that still stretch out to guide us on our paths unhindered.
The waning moon is hidden by drifting spartan clouds
barely visible as the dark takes full control
and each step is carefully cautioned by our mental shrouds
with an onslaught of an unassuming light snow.
We are prisoners now within our homes
held cold, safe from shivering but in awe
of the power of the night and change of seasonal tones
with a hoar frost that holds us here to spring begins the thaw.
It is the winter of the full moon and morning sun
touching us with a blanket of cold bare emptiness
that will not soon enough be done
bringing shorter days and harsh, cold cruelness.
Here comes the night of winter time
waiting patiently at your door.
September 16, 2015
How would it feel having no single woe to bear,
In that sooty heart oft stung by ceaseless tear?
Wouldn't the sobs-accustomed soul court pain,
To save those melancholic rhythms in its stain?
It's abnormal for usually teary eyes not to cry,
For that erstwhile crestfallen spirit not to sulk.
Used to endless gall it's sickly to feel brighter,
It's a health disorder to let go of that acid bulk.
And can this be the preponderant reason fair,
Fate gives each mortal breast its itching care?
Could earth's being all-free from fettering cries
Birth taboo alien studs obnoxious to the skies?
I'd wish to pass life's mean hour in gayest glee,
But if Wiser Lot considers it far much saintlier
To lead a gloomy existence by ruings checked,
Thus rightly eschewed by oily mirths let me be.
There's huge heroism in every iron dragon slain;
None in safest paths unmarred by battle's stain.
We nodded first a truth aligned
A simple point we both could claim
I tried to show another mind
How others feel what fuels their flame
Their smile went cold their eyes grew hard
I’ll shut you up they spat bemocked
My words were careful soft unmarred
But hit a wall of passion locked
I sketched their steps their fears their view
A world beyond the frame we share
Yet fury drowned the insight through
A narrow gaze too sharp to care
I will not judge the spark that burned
For friendship lives beyond the fight
But still a deep divide is learned
In how we hear and what feels right
Agreement breathed but barely stirred
The lesson plain yet edged with pain
Some hearts are deaf to another word
Some minds will close though eyes remain
Only through such darkened skies
Can calmer truth and grace be reached
For now let the storm between us rise
It’s thunder spent in pursuit of peace
No litter, no rules, no society scent,
just peninsula pure soul content, ideally lent.
Awed and wowed with arms stretched wide,
I stand on Key’s narrow road, on narrow land,
surrounded by two sea gems and their sand.
This dream road sea-drowns, down south’s horizon
and thrills my innocence without even trying.
Western growth is dense and a fence in Gulf’s yard.
Her wave’s sirens are blue-salt diamonds
and I am mesmerized by their titan climbing.
East unfolds turquoise enchantments unmarred –
The playful, poetic Atlantic off guard,
bewitching and hypnotic in regard.
Dazzled, I sit in the sea, shoulders deep.
Powder soft ocean floor thrones me nicely.
I could sit the day in this sea so sultry.
Flirty, allusive, emerald joys leap
as languid, luscious wet meets sun’s glee,
sending my senses high where memories keep.
These expressive ocean blues and greens
are of patterns and ways, I have never seen.
Sensual and graceful, each sea touch is delight –
as soothing in feel as pleasure in my sight.
Before me spreads endless bounty of ocean glean.
Under Florida-kissed skies, I sit wet and serene.
My thoughts touch you in whispered ways
so often in the measured pace
of minutes, hours called a day.
As soulful, sighing breezes sway
lithe branches freshly dressed by Spring,
so do my thoughts caress your face
with softly stirred remembering;
then on some treasured token stay
in homage bowed to quietly pray
and lift a tribute to your grace:
my God, this is a hallowed place.
loudly duty calls my mind to weigh
the worth of tasks I should embrace;
yet, before long, my glad thoughts stray
to find a shady, sheltered bay
unmarred by discord's haunting sting,
and there, away from all things base,
I find your spirit. Ah, there we sing
and dream together while far away
dies the noisy din that was my day,
let naught of earth this joy erase:
My God, this is a hallowed place.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
Oh, angel, how you flutter 'bout my heart
The joy of love and living you impart
Your voice my soul does carry into flight
Illuminates with incandescent light
Your eyes are blind to wonders of this world
Yet, when you sing, its beauties are unfurled
I live a dream unmarred by pain and strife
Where passion, joy, and love are verdant, rife
You sing my heart into that special place
Where naught resides but beauty touched by grace
Angelic face when lit up by a smile
Invites my heart to dream a little while
Bocelli, angel sweet of paradise
In blinded eyes, the light of heaven lies
March 30, 2014
Artist Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
Oh, dear Sparrow! Fallen still
Softly feathered where you lay
As of a soldier gently eased
To sleep in dreams away
Whose dying wish was lost, was lost
In wars of yesterday
Your folded wings are nestled close
Your uniform unmarred
There is no stain upon your coat
Nor mark upon your bars
It seems from battle you emerged
Without a battle scar
For there you are composed, serene
Your earthly visage calm
No sign of struggle or of strife
No specter of alarm
Nor outward damage I can see –
Within, then, be the harm
Where broken wounds internalize
Beyond the battlefield
Where kamikaze skirmishes
Could not survive the steel
And solid soundness of the pane
Which from you did not yield
To you then, fallen warrior
In tribute, hear my prayer –
That you may soar unbounded, free
With worry none, nor care
In everlasting flight on wings
As virtual as air –
I lie on a bed of grass, huddled beneath
this vast expanse of night sky
with the breeze passing in light swirls
over my upturned face,
all my senses alight.
I gaze at that smooth disc
of ardent argent,
unmarred by confining cloud
or pestiferous phase,
clear, full, and impossibly bright.
I wonder at what's brought me here,
to this point in my life;
so many, many questions to be asked;
and all posed to that strictest and secretive guide,
that which we style as a soul.
Rumination, on this field of earth
and in the endless fields of the mind,
provides precious few answers;
yet I continue, ever and anon, to question,
for such, it seems, is my lot.
Is all that's transpired due
to the designs of destiny,
fate's decree -
or simply
the cruel caprices of chance?
Is there a reason, dictated by eternity's will,
for a lone heart to suffer so;
for entwined stars to be torn apart,
one to soar, beautiful and shining,
and one to fall, scarred and dimmed?
The moon knows not,
nor answers my call;
distant and aloof, it returns my scrutiny,
impassive and serene, it quells
the raging storm inside me.
Quieted, I linger,
somehow unable to leave -
and for a time, remain,
entranced under the pale orb
that floats the night above.
CHRONICLES OF ALENE COLLINS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alene Collins, a tender soul in tumultuous terrain,
Touched by turmoil, torn by tenderness & pain.
She grew in her teenage testimonies, trials & tears,
She's her grandparents' guiding light across the years.4
Separated at birth, scared and unseen,
Sorrow silently settled in her serene.
Without a father's face, she learned to thrive,
A mother's love she longed to feel alive.8
Separated at birth, in silence she grew,
Her heartache hidden, her dreams askew.
7 years young, her grandparents' arms she found,
Firm foundations 'midst chaos she abound.¹²
Fractured bonds with a mom who drift
And whose choices caused aching rifts,
Frayed edges of their bond breached & swift,
Broken & burdened with unspoken shifts.¹6
Fueled by love, though bruised and scarred,
Fathomless forgiveness, her heart unmarred.
Despite the pain her mother's actions bade,
Love and respect within her heart stayed.²°
Fighting demons, depression's dawning frown,
Frail fragments of hope, her darkness did drown.
Facing forwards forlornly, fighting fears,
Flourishing through floods of fallen tears.²4
Grandma's guidance, a strict & sturdy hand,
Guarding gently in her life's shifting sand.
Through the fog of hardship, she found her way,
Glistening resilience in the light of day.²8
Alene Collins, a tale of strength untold,
In her resilience, she holds a heart of gold.³°
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Aliteration/Rhymes
Copyright ©?29th February 2024.