Long Vague Poems
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MY QUEST
I lost my heart. Where can it be? There is sadness and despair.
If I were to search for all eternity, I may never find it anywhere.
I've delved beneath oceans deep, on beaches when tides are low.
In canyon crevices, I did sweep; into giant forests I dared to go.
I've combed deserts made of sand. Where else should I scour?
Ancient ruins and palaces grand, I've searched them all for hours.
Quest over. No where else to look. How do I live without my heart?
No answer I find in a book. For my heart is lost and I'm torn apart.
THE END OF MY QUEST
For many months I traveled, in search of my heart, I thought lost,
Upon return the mystery unraveled, in great fury my temper tossed.
In all the months I'd spent away, my heart had remained at home.
Stolen by my swain who'd gone astray; his libido decided to roam.
I want my heart back! I said in a huff. No longer will you hurt me!
You've had it long enough. You said you don't want it, so set it free.
You shot me down; the act of a friend? You should've used a gun.
This is where our dreams end. Face reality. It's over, and I'm done.
When I walk out on you for good, I wonder if you'll miss me at all.
I wasn't sure I could, but you've given me reasons to make the call.
You don't always say what you think. You like being a vague mystery.
You change moods quick as a wink. You're such a frustration to me.
You talk in circles and go nowhere. It's just so much idle chatter.
Frankly, it's more than I can bear. It's your actions that matter.
I've always known where my heart has been. Given to you long ago.
I searched like the man of tin; I needed a brain like the scarecrow.
I'm taking my heart back today. It's broken and in need of repair.
You never wanted it anyway, stop pretending that you really care.
No warranty comes with a heart. I know what's wrong with it; I do.
But I've no spare part, because the part I need lies deep inside of you.
I'm taking my heart back! I need it to live. I'm tired of trying to cope.
I've nothing left to give. I'm putting an end to my foolish false hope.
No more excuses for the way I was treated. I've heard them all before.
Quest over. I'm defeated, but I have my heart and I'm closing the door.
Written: September 2006
Vitriol and darkly circumspect,
These desires they know no bounds.
Tender prey and inviting eyes-
I spare no expense in this cold lover’s stare.
Awaken some deeply buried sense of entitlement
When I tell you that I asked the spirits for you to arrive.
There is a part of your desire that fills me with doubt;
All dressed in silk and broken dreams
Calling my name in your fitful sleep.
Your words fall like memories in some vague translation
Of original thought into this cheap rendition.
Pull me close and whisper those precious lies-
You know the ones I’ve been trained to imbibe.
I hear my name spoken in the darkness
As you open the door and stroll towards the bed where I lie.
I am almost afraid until it comes to the forefront of my mind-
That you are the victim restrained by your own pride.
Like a dirty stain that should be removed,
the once clear distinction between men
and women has become murky and gray.
The stain grows and smears lines and
edges, the shape of men and women
are remolded. Gone are the curvy
feminine lines of a womanly figure,
replaced by more angular lines.
The bold, masculine lines of a man
are softened, erased and reshaped
into a nondescript form.
Fuzzy, blurred lines appear on the
facial features, hair is neither short
nor long, but shapeless.
A vague, pastel colored jacket and pants,
no tie, casual shoes and a side saddle
purse complete the picture.
Like a prodigal son, men try to take
what God has made and remake it
for their own purposes. Yet, one day
every man and every woman will
stand before their Creator, and
He will have no trouble telling them apart.
Written on 2015
It was the point of a meaningless moon,
That being dealt life, its absolute gloom,
Vague stars shone hope to reposed past of Earth,
Dusk hath casts a crazed eve, pure hueless girth,
Joint lives of suave views have spread neath vain space,
Twain hearts of faint aims bent at an odd place,
Hath time rose, it was at a library,
Heartbeats are intact, waft of rare moon, free,
Scene set single swift shift that sways said lives,
When immortal kiss filled, hatched modern drives,
Flash of bliss, sum less than a week, pithy,
Souls warp sovereign time a dichotomy,
Ageless Sun o'er timeless Earth, midst readers,
Pave periods, us, episode writers,
Two; songbooks split, both sung; books wrote, both said,
A book close, ashes to ashes, rites read,
Ode paid, poet refrains, anew begun,
...Chapter One.
No regrets, separate lives lived since my first kiss experience, though death came at mid-life, both of us had a fulfilled life, and for that, I am content.
In prison, and bereft of all defence,
But my Healer, graver than ever ere,
Swirls his chair round, yon of window to stare
As if to get inspired from Providence.
More of a dumb than mute, I curse my fate,
But happy he feels that it’s my left hand,
We’ll amputate it if we cannot mend,
What, what? I ask, my mouth an open gate.
We’ll start with anti-Cox, let it take long,
If you stick to treatment, you’ll sure get cured,
Soft tissue bone cancer I hope it’s not,
It looked he played a loose game of Ping Pong,
But what’s not in one’s hand ought 'tbe endured,
He vaguely kept everything to my lot.
Vague were his ways, vague as his weird know-how—
Of kind that make from mole hill huge mountain,
I ask him once again to well explain,
Here’s what he said with flourish and a bow:
There’s a graveyard of local infection,
And a cyst envelopes it like a fort,
Fight ensues, there’s settlement out-of-court,
Bur why worry it all, time to take action.
The cyst was hence removed, its stems and roots,
Biopsy tests done still gave not a clue,
But all follow up had to be gone through,
Cost and concern, me left with bitter fruits,
Does today’s tech help, hinder all the more?
A mixed bag of debates rage—needless lore.
_______________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: Here are sonnets VII and VIII of a sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the last line of the tenth as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.
Waking, she inspects the color under her sweater
and sighs that vague orange is still wearing her.
Orange can’t be her friend until it reveals its core.
While white is already a friend, the floating ones
aloofly speak of odd concerns she cannot pattern.
At times, float-whites hear, but never do they listen
or cease insisting that she has dreams, NOT visions.
Blue, green, pink and white all bring truths to her:
if she finds the correct umbrella, she could fly thru
blue-white skies adorned with smeared pink pops
over green’s velvet-thick and lush laid blankets.
When she gains the doors other side, freedom
will lead her to the right, flight-ready umbrella.
Sorting and storing colors keeps her busy all day.
Her favorites - blue, green, pink and white shades,
she tenderly places in see thru plastic jars, all
other colors she discards as too bland hearted.
Daily relief is happily seized by determining
not even a kernel of purple is in her world.
Purple startles, it is pain’s chosen dispersal
that circles and circles until she curls up,
prone atop piles of her own broken pieces.
Occupied with her color heaps, she spies a white-
float fluttering in her doorway at a time too early
for the syringe of colorless assistance
that simplifies her organizational tasks.
She hears white make words but disappears
inside of all pink things with soft plumes.
“Both your parents came to visit with you.
They are waiting inside the purple room.”
To the day – welcome!
Though it may appear the same, it is not.
Each day, each moment is new and unspent
cling to it, hold it tight for it will never return.
once passed, it is lost forever and will not be repeated.
But for now – it is here!
Live it, breathe it, hold it close with every breath, for it lives
And in its own life, it will become a memory to relish and recall in time.
To the day – thank the Creator for it,
Take in each singular, solitary second
Make it part of your awareness, your thought process –
For in a moment, it is gone with all that made it what it is, what it was –
But wait for it –
the next second, the next thought, the next breath of being
will also be unmatched and un-repetitious.
This life passes all too quickly, so make the most of it –
Live, Love, Linger in the moment
For all that is – will never be again
And in our lives, all our nows shall fade away in vague memories.
To the day – be true to yourself, your dreams, your beliefs –
Never be more than who you are - for you alone are you
And cannot be replaced nor matched.
Live long and prosper.
In the still of the night
Long before the mornings dew
Long before the early dawns light
I look out my window
And am startled to see
This figure, a woman starring at me
She has such a sad look upon her face
Her smile is no more
A look of sorrow now takes its place
In her eyes you can clearly see the regrets
Of those special moments she can’t forget
Moments of which she could wishes she could change
But time only moves forward
And life can’t go back to rearrange
That’s the one thing you can count on to stay the same
She didn’t fight hard enough for him back then
She’s fighting too hard for him now
I wee her troubles in her eyes
She has looked to the skies
She needs to push through somehow
To find what she seeks
And seek what she finds
She’s screaming now
“Damn this life of mine”
Gone by are all the years
Here now are echoes of silence
And moments that are filled with tears
You see them running down her check
Leaves her always lonely and week
For it’s him she longs to hold
But all with him for now is cold
She has heard it been said
She has been told
Just to forget and try to control
The feelings, the love, the sadness, and all the laughter
The thoughts she once had of happy ever after
Let go of remembering how they lied
On the day they said goodbye
Or the songs they sang
The words were clear
But the meaning vague
She wishes that was the case today
The meaning of the songs
Are now to crystal clear
That part is what she don’t want to ever hear
During the shadows of the night
All she wants is him holding her tight
She wants to feel wanted, needed, and loved
She wants for this to so much
And longs to be able to one day thank
The good Lord above
You can tell she hopes soon this will be close in her sights
She prays her emotions of him are right
In the still of the night
Long before the mornings dew
Long before the mornings light
I look out my window
And I’m startled to see
That figure the woman still starring
And realize
It’s just the reflection of me
In a dark swirling empty nothing I am written,
with many descriptions of pain and victimization
made by a harsh,
cruel,
merciless,
and unforgiving
world of circumstance.
I do as I'm told:
I try to sway my reader
to understand the pain of my master
who authored me,
knowing fully well how impossible that is,
because he himself doesn't understand pain.
Yet he tries so hard to communicate it.
So I speak only in vague terms
using the darkest words of the human mind
just for good measure:
(suffocate)
(death)
(pain)
(endless suffering)
(suicide)
(murder)
(violence)
(anger)
(blood)
(hatred)
all for shock value;
serving my master's need
to prove his pain to my reader.
But I am far too loving to allow this...
so I knock on the door to his inner sanctum, and ask to be let in
so I can give him the hug
he's refused himself
since the day me and all my brothers were born.
That first cup of coffee, what could be sweeter
It's starts the day right, it's a sadness defeater
We wake up all groggy and stumble over things
Into walls and doorways, to a table we cling
Lucky if we make it to the kitchen in one piece
Hopefully we won't get splattered with grease
While cooking up bacon and eggs and some taters
I'm wondering the cost of a live-in cook and baker
Okay back to the brew that revives us once more
Without it we're zombies with bumps galore
If the girls at the office could see us like this
There'd be no more begging for a passionate kiss
Pretend not to see me, avoid me like the plague
They'd make up excuses no matter how vague
So you see the importance of our morning brew
It starts the day off with a bright howdy do
That first cup of coffee, what could be sweeter
It's yummy in the tummy the sadness defeater