Long Wept Poems
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No one seemed to take much note at first.
Old-timers on park benches passed a comment or two,
Somebody wrote a letter to the local rag,
but no one (who mattered, that is)
really seemed to mind.
Of course, you will always have
your bellyachers and woolly romantics
with nothing better to do than whine
about the way things are going, -
the loss of bird life, the silenced dawn chorus,
the vanishing English hedgerow,
you know the sort of thing.
The leaves began falling long before autumn.
"Funny," they said, "curious," "that's one for the book."
This was all very interesting for botanists,
environmentalists, chemists and the like.
Such words as "pollution," "soil erosion"
and "deprivation" were bandied about,
but no one was much the wiser though
the experts were agreed on one point.
"Photosynthesis provides the basis of all life."
This was interesting but nothing like
as interesting as the favourite for Ascot,
the football results, the Top of the Pops,
the late night thriller or the FT index.
All that changed.
Foresters and timber merchants became concerned
about the decaying cores of many trees.
The government became concerned, too,
(not so much about the fate of the trees as such
as about the effect the scarcity of wood
was having on the paper industry and inflation).
Then the doom-watchers caught the scent
and there was talk of an imminent ecological collapse,
but the man in the street still
passed it all off as the usual load of rot.
Then Kew Gardens, Epping Forest, Central Park,
the Everglades and the Bois de Boulogne
went the way of all wood.
A tramp, locally known as Nat the Nut,
was found in the village cemetery gibbering,
Before being bundled into an ambulance,
he was heard to say:
"With these very ears I heard 'em groan,
and this is what one of 'em said:
'Tonight we are dying, yew and I,
and the morrow sees us dead.'
And the willows wept in the valleys
and the trees on the hills pined away."
When the harvest failed,
the church bells tolled
for a woe no man could gainsay,
for none doubted then the trees were lost
or held it was only they.
Tears Of An Angel 2
The Cherub made of fire and light,
Saturate the Earth with tears as rivers
Ponderous thoughts about humans:
Why we choose death over life?
Ills cloaked within a flesh
Evades your understanding and pierced your heart
Just as the sins, the signs, the shame, the fame,
The guilts, hatred built, the fears
All these loudest in your ears, lighted Angel,
Weighing heavily on thy soul
Into the voids it pulled thee,
Deeper into malady
My heart bleeds in tears with you
If only I can be an antidote to thy tears
And she told me:
'Angels come in every liberated hues,
Every shape and size, colours and textures
Some tall and some small, some slim or big,
Each unique, with a special purpose'
She says the same as you, your kind
And asked me to quench this life's fire
Because am the water that fall from the sky,
To nourish each needs to live
To spend my time and nights for you
Just as a watchman at nocturnal hours,
To forget about me; be the intercessor.
My reply as the Angel wept and spoke:
I shall be the breach between bridges,
I shall come in different forms to all men
Though am small but big enough
To heal the world
I will sing my part in the chorus,
This I promise you.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © April 15th, 2017.
I held your still warm dead hand in mine for hours,
waiting, waiting for other family members to arrive;
most of the time I sat weeping alone with you, Daddy,
so I talked and talked and said words unsaid of love.
I had just seen you and Mom last night at supper,
you had been telling war stories greatly exaggerated;
but there were words for us unsaid- if I had known,
that you would be gone this day, I would have spoken.
Spoken of my great love for you Daddy and respect,
I would have thanked you for all your teachings;
and as I sat there with you dead to me forever, I wept,
forgiving you for angry words said and asked . . .
Daddy, forgive me please for every unkind thing,
every stupid thing, every careless thing, everything;
hope you knew how much I loved you, how important,
you will always be to me- Daddy I love you;
you will always be the wind beneath my wings.
__________________________________
April 20, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Words Unsaid
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1136-130-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, What Was Left Unsaid
sponsor, Line Gauthier
Second Place
This quest arose for Jeanne d'Arc,
A peasant girl engrossed in prayer.
When voices deep inside her head,
Spoke of her future, saving France.
During the passing march of time,
Wise words transcended Jeanne's belief.
With eloquence she did proclaim,
The Dauphin Charles would be crowned king.
Jeanne's duty now, to free Orleans,
Which Englands army had besieged.
Her strategy of no retreat,
Caused panic in the English camp.
When cannon fire created haze,
Two arrows pierced Jeanne's armour plate.
Despite her wounds she battled on.
With victory lifting the siege.
The road to Reims to crown Charles king,
Was fraught with danger near Patay.
Jeanne's orders were, to ride with spurs.
The English drums beat out retreat,
French knights on horseback giving chase
Were almost ambushed by their foe.
A startled stag caused disarray.
The French knights spilling English blood.
Jeanne kneeling down, tearfully prayed,
Betwixt those dying and the dead.
With Charles crowned king, and wanting peace
Jeanne's siege of Paris did surcease.
Her power was his great concern,
Consigning her to free Compiegne.
A skirmish by the city walls
Ended with Jeanne's captivity.
The trial of the Orleans maid
A charge of heresy was placed
Which Jeanne as always did deny.
With threats of torture or confess,
Those voices past, she did retract
Only to say, it was Gods will.
So weary now, she knew her fate.
For modesty, she wore mens clothes
Convicting her of heresy.
Within Rouen's old market place
Jeanne's death was burning at the stake.
An English guard made her a cross
He wept then cried, we've burnt a saint.
9/ 15/ 2015.
X marks the spot
Where a young child had stood,
Enjoying his friends’ company as only
A young child could.
X marks the spot
Where the child lay dying,
Medics there to save his life,
Desperately trying.
X marks the spot,
From which the crowd was kept,
The child’s mother who broke through
And uncontrollably wept.
X marks the spot
Where the ambulance came,
The police taking measurements,
Photographing the stain.
X marks the spot
Where the piles of flowers were left,
Where the moving tributes were made
From those now bereft.
X marks the spot
Where the funeral procession slowed,
Where a community’s grief
In rivers now flowed.
X marks the spot
Where the young child was struck
By a man on a mobile
In charge of a truck.
X marks the spot
Where a quick call was made,
The cost of this phone call
Extravagantly paid.
May Donald feel lost love he never knew -
and see his tumultuous journey through.
A prayer for one who few would pray for -
whose feelings they'd rather chose to ignore.
Who are we who do not dare to relate -
or even consider another's fate?
Millions who've protested, marched and wept -
in hopes that things held sacred will be kept.
Aren't we all dear children of the Divine -
each entitled to touch the sublime?
Could there be respect when we hear his name -
confident that all are treated the same?
May we feel kindly towards each other -
and reach out to Donald as a brother.
It took me hours and hours on the bus to arrive Mother,
and by the time I got to your tomb the red rose I picked
was wilted but still full of love. I have things to tell you Mom.
Sad things and happy things, things only you would understand.
Sitting on the grass amongst the tombs I trace your beautiful
name with my finger. And I remember . . .
all the times at the kitchen table when I told you my
worries and you listened and did not say a word until I finished.
And I would ask, Mom what should I do? Then you would say,
you know what to do . . .
Why did you always know what was in my heart and soul. Oh, the
countless times you sat upon the edge of my bed as I wept
over some silly thing. And those days in the garden when we
planted flowers and I told you of my day and dreams.
And how deeply we cried . . .
together when my baby died. Our hearts broken and forever
melted together. And even now, Mom, I imagine whispering
in your ear whenever I need you, I can almost hear your sweet
voice saying, you know what to do. I taught you well daughter,
so you could follow your own path . . .
________________________________
May 4, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/I Have Things To Tell
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 1095-856-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Contest 530, Standard
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
"I cry like a child Lord when I am overwhelmed;
and ask, be my forever tower, rock and anchor,
let me rest in the shelter of your wings when I
am tired until I can fly free like a soaring bird."
Quote by _Constance
My faith is ever
it will not fade
or decay away
or come and go.
Yet, I do not see
God on this earth.
When woman came the stone had been rolled away, his tomb was empty
soon, an angel appeared to announce, the Son had risen from the dead
He first appeared to Peter, then, to the others and then, to the hundreds.
He appeared glorified, transformed from a man, immortal and heavenly.
He is .. forever
just call to him
and he will be.
He is my rock
my tower and
my strength.
I believe him
in my inner
child, with all
my heart and
soul. He will
always be my
warrior brave
against evil.
I am his child
he, my father
I do not need to see him to believe. I just do, for he has held my hand when
I have been afraid, he has held me like a baby in his arms, and wept with me.
+++
“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”
Melancholy me, since Kelly's gone away
Far beyond the sea, and gone from everyday
Stage by stage I've wept, but finally, I see
What I must now accept; a melancholy me
It follows and it looms, a threat to my clear sky
Though never quite consumes, insists that I comply
She's not for me to find, no path for me to track
So rain, I will not mind, if I can't have her back
Now happiness and joy, are never felt alone
The grief did not destroy, but left an undertone
It’s useless to contest, what lingers underneath
I'm trying, at my best, to walk beside the grief
And maybe I am jaded, but I am past denial
The anger has since faded; I've learned again to smile
I steady more each day, but walk the tightest rope
And mind my every sway, through threats by wind, I cope
Relentless my implore, and pointless it would seem
She went, she is no more, to see her is to dream
I begged her not leave, yet still, she did not stay
forever, now I'll grieve, my melancholy way
I'll live despite her death, as long as I embrace
What’s come of her last breath, and breathing in her place
Because it's mine to keep, it's just my cross to bear
I'll bury it down deep, but always, it is there
And though I did not choose, it's what I would prefer
For I can't bear to lose, my memory of her
The pain is in my heart, means Kelly too, shall be...
Because she’s just a part, of melancholy me.
GIVE IT TO GOD
In the pouring rain, she sinks so small,
A girl on her knees, tears began to fall,
Under the severe heavy downpour.
With sorrow in her eyes, she looked above,
Searching for solace, seeking some love.5
Each raindrop echoed her silent despair,
As she knelt down, her heart laid bare.
With the weight of the world on her delicate frame,
She wept in anguish, whispering a name.?
Her cry could be heard from mountain tops,
Her tears merged with raindrops,
While wailing bitterly without end.
Her tears & raindrops, a sorrowful blend,
Her anguish, a cry that the heavens did attend.¹4
But even in darkness, there's a glimmer of light,
Hope dances in the rain, washing away your plight.
In times of darkness, when shadows loom,
And all seems lost, consumed by gloom,¹8
When burdens seem too heavy to bear,
Give it to God, for He will hear.
When trials test your weary soul,
And worries threaten to take their toll,²²
When troubles mount, each day anew,
Give it to God for He'll guide you through.
For the rain will wash away the pain she knows,
Leaving room for healing, where new strength grows.²6
In that heavy rain, she found release,
Cleansing her soul to find a new lease.
So let the heavens witness her tearful pleas,
For in each drop, there's a whisper of peace.³°
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? December 2023.