Epiphany Poetry Contest, Sponsor - Constance La France. Date written: 08/27/2026
manacled...
by gnawing self-doubt;
a life-long affliction
voices in her head
incessantly spewed
lies and half-truths
that grew like watered seeds
planted by naysayers;
she internalized all the nonsense
she lacks self-belief,
but she miraculously turned a corner;
all she needed
was a little nudge
by a caring new friend
to confront the moment of truth,
a reassurance of...
"Trust your gut; you can do anything!"
she listened,
she prayed,
she fought,
v e h e m e n t l y,
against those voices of defeatism,
against negative forces
telling her...
"Not so fast! Think twice!"
she found
the inner strength
she never knew she had
to bravely walk into God's radiant light,
silence the echoes of trepidation
and seize the power
that was always hers.
with every breath
of her newfound freedom,
she finally realized
that she's infinitely greater...
than her circumstances.
Mojubjub knew that the Corcoran tree
Was tall and comely and fair to see.
Yet all the worms in the House of Owls
Could not move; for Mojubjub’s scowls
Brought a score of ladies and their Pekinese,
Only to hear Mojubjub sneeze.
His mother said we shouldn’t mind;
For, after all, he is so kind
He gave to the princess who slept on a pea
A bouquet of roses and fleur-de-lis
To let her know there was nothing to dread
From spending a night in the House of the Dead.
And all the flowers on the Corcoran tree
Bent low to kiss Mojubjub’s knee.
While in the walls of the House of Owls
The worms stood still and heard the howls
Of a thousand manacled Pekinese,
Tortured by thousands of manicured fleas.
the silent heart
has no song to be heard
only the loneliness within
that echoes across empty rooms
where no ear listens
where the heavy drapes still the sun
so the shadows may proceed
unencumbered by desirous longings
it is in this
i wait for you
in remembrances of your touch
as tempus fugit embraces me
fading lips i long to taste again
a reassuring voice rests in quietude
lost in an empty room of shadows
manacled in darkened depths
the abyss in a silent heart
has no song to be heard
OKC 8/17
hate is a prison
where I'm manacled in chains
restraining my wings
Mightier than fibs and sharp swords,
Manacled truth will with time prevail
Against high peak and gigantic vale,
And glossed lips' deodorized words.
Sharper than lucre's nectared studs
Stabs tested truth's right-driven nail;
Till all wrong-worn tongues wax frail,
And fain betray old veneered guards.
Unfettered truth predates olden floods.
Earlier than Noah's Ark and hasty hail
Unbowed stood her long-tenured trail,
Defanging vibes of fact-twisting nerds.
Unbent still won truth's candid cards,
Outlasting every knavish fibbing tale;
And justice bespectacled favored jail,
Where oft cool heels of reptiled duds.
Why not tell it to blank wingless birds:
If stoutest truth's tempest-tossed sail
Long neutered was by wealthier gale,
Over gold's Monsoon-storming girds?
~~~Magna est veritas et praevalebit~~~.
I can't breathe
My ankles are shackled
I can't feel my feet,
My neck is manacled
The weight of your knee upon my neck,
Crushing my jugular, bursting veins
Tears of blood running down my cheeks,
As I pleaded for mercy, tapping out
But it wasn't enough to quench your thirst
The world is silent, racism pushing through
Its walls, we have become claustrophobic
Tearing through the roofs, windows and doors
To undo this Injustice served by the uniform
Sir D'Champ's Poetry
long term thinking is a creator of appetite
but brain chemistry can play tricks
like a rattlesnake bite can play tricks
once you toss your conscience into the gutter
and the desire for being the most free
becomes last year's wavy banner fallen
venom fresh in the blood of life
parasitic feeble deprived and manacled
where free enough is free enough
leaving behind far less collateral dementia
the old school vs. the new school
which is which it's hard to tell
barking dogs from mewing cats any longer
the spilt shadows are that long
the tapping of striped canes that grim
the gullible have erected a stockade
because mama loves her babies
an accretion of idiocy by definition
it comes down to people don't know
long since sent to the evaporation pools
where permanent revolution is still a thing
and the Wurlitzer dialectic see saw
is a steam locomotive straining for traction
against the sparking anvil of the elder ironsmith
shoveling party slogans into the boiler
as if they were the color of sky
rather than a long dark gestation
now skipping and tooting down Elm St.
What mankind dreams,
he will create;
his dreams will likely,
seal his fate.
Plenty of men,
have fallen prey.
To dreams that left them,
to rot and decay.
The great inventions,
that man’s seen;
with good intentions,
were his dreams.
But when he reached a pinnacle,
his dreams, went awry;
so many lives were manacled,
he fell to public outcry.
The dreams that backfired,
sealed his fate;
and to, the innocents;
a heavy blow was dealt,
then, it was too late.
The consequences of one’s dreams,
considered first, they must be;
for if, in fact, they are not;
such horrors, will be seen.
The light of day, may sober one;
though these dreams monsters, rule;
the day the populace, has become none;
a God, will say, “What Fools”.
Tread carefully, as you manifest your dreams;
that is quite, the primary scheme.
The world you build,
for all today;
may be the world, you bury.
Day joined to expired day,
nights lost to darkest night.
Another year has defected
to the phalanx arrayed against us,
their iron hooves now thundering,
their sheer number mocking
our plundered ranks.
Do we then muffle our laughter,
and await the slaughter?
Do we extend our wrists,
by the flood of years barnacled,
offer them to the tides to be manacled?
But no, we shall not forfeit the coming dawns,
nor grovel before time’s ghastly taunts.
Let us thumb our noses at these turncoat hours,
so their cackles shall forever be jarred by our song,
their armors singed by our bonfires,
and their bloating flesh branded with our footprints!
Let us empty ourselves into tomorrow
until we’ve drained our marrow,
so that the moons shall remember
that one sepia heartbeat in time
when we rose to the smiting hand,
again and again,
until we were deaf
to our hearts’ murmurs
and blind to the stars.
Alone, a ghastly night without you
And a moment of your absence
You know I can't put up with.
As my hands, manacled
With yours, pain me much
While tugged by you--
Kind of joy
Pervades
Me.
Raw conscience brought me to my knees,
no strength left to defy my shame.
Soul manacled, bereft of keys,
pure guilt by any other name.
To gain my life bought by his loss
raw conscience brought me to my knees.
I face torn sinews on the cross
for by this death mankind he frees.
Hands clasped, head bowed I make my pleas
recounting sins like tables times,
raw conscience brought me to my knees
to man and Lord confess my crimes.
Now cleansed, hands, eyes and soul I lift.
Though this penance is by decree
and liberty the promised gift-
raw conscience brought me to my knees.
For 'Show me Quatern poetry' , sponsored by Andrea Deitrich
27th January 2016
You never said a word, just let the silence fill the dialogue
I got nothing in return, just emptied replies
I opened my heart to you, I showed you all my demons
The attic needed some light I said
But you didn’t say much. Didn’t realize that you were already sleeping away
I guess the dark scared that kid inside you,
You couldn’t get your hands dirty, to many skeletons to bury, to many demons to slay at night.
The deeper I dug, the farther you retreated
I wanted you to get to know the real me,
Show you a side of me, I didn’t know how to silence
But now I see that I was such a fool to think that you’d be different,
That you would see past these demons that control me,
It still hurts every time I think bout you, the blinding truths haunts me
Like a weight manacled to my feet,
That you couldn’t find it in your self to see….ME.
#RightWhereMyHeartIs
SHACKLESMACKED
facedrizzled
skinsizzled
painshrieking
manacled
bloodbeating
whimpering whaif
cowering safe
no wait…
here it comes
again…
and again
and
again
the coward
stands
a machine
beating
meanthinking
man with dead
eyes
vermonworming
his disguise
lips thin as
pins in dark
blue skies
abhorrent
sickening
torment
of an
innocent
child
(the heinous crime of child abuse)
© Kim van Breda—25 November 2015
I accuse
Bankers who compulsively their creditors lure
Bid them colossal loans and obscure
To erect fantasies and a castle in Spain forge
Later arise manacled with a dolor mortgage
Employees who secretly squeeze through
Evacuate their jobs unattended and eschew
Occupy hours galore in cafés gossiping
With prolonged queues jilted lingering
Doctors who diagnose organic diseases
Shirk fragile,grief-stricken souls
Administer drugs to accrue vulnerability
Burden their expenses and nurture insanity
Entrepreneurs who hatch gigantic edifices
Reap colossal sums of almighty dollars
Abjure to construct a hovel for the beggary
To harbor their rat-infested despondency
Yet could medication be of any use
To what a whole epoch has abused ?
Abdelwaheb Dhaou.
Black Theology
It’s that time again
Black man’ scratch for a dime
Like a savage dog, nose on the ground
A bureaucrat’s squash to sip lime
Peeling skin, bare bleeding phalanges-such is excruciating pain
The word of Adam, let them be bound
In chains so fiercely hot, manacled so close to the furnace
Such that their sweat make it rain, make it raiiin
The cry from below- minus six, the trumpet is yet to be sound
The burst of their blisters shall adorn the walls of the city
And I say 7 times; times indeed your muskets shall be in vain
As a mass of ancestors rise upon you, and proclaim to all corners of the world
“This is the day that the lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it”
Cuz this is the day, in which a black man’s pride was found
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