Marionette Poems | Examples

I am words marionette

words wake me up
shake me up
insist on having their way
I am the marionette
they are my puppet masters

They are insistent and persistent
I follow their lead
I am their minion
They laugh at my plight, loving their power

words wear the crown
wield the power
write the edicts
dictate what will happen before and beyond

they declare and decide
demand and command
I am their play dough, their blank canvas

Words maneuver, manipulate and word-handle me
My muse laughs at my consternation

puppet master and willing marionette

He was a puppet master
She was a willing marionette
We might get married he lied
She loved the idea

They were together for fifty-two years
He is the love of my life she told everyone
Never married, for he was forever single
His blank promises kept her magic hopes alive

A marionette

A marionette of the void
Aware of the needle like strings,
Stranding on the edge of light
Yet covered by the veil of hollowness
A woeful homunculus, gazing at the abyss

Marionette

I sit where they sat before me,
knees folded like pressed flowers,
hands stitched together by someone else's
threads.

The air is thick with the ghosts of breath,
the weight of names I do not know, 
the hush of mouths shaping syllables like 
fog on the glass.

I open mine too.
The sound comes but it's not mine.
It floats up to the ceiling 
and gets caught in the rafters like dust.
No one notices.

The wine is warm and bitter,
the bread turns to chalk on my tongue. 
I swallow anyway.

I think I could slip through the cracks in the
floor.
I think I could curl into the lining of the hymnals,
thin and fading at the edges,
wedged between stories I was told to
believe. 

I see my body from above-
white dress, an empty cup, a marionette
waiting for a string 
Someone pulls, and I nod.
Someone pulls, and I kneel.

The bells ring, and I do not move 
The choir swells, but I do not sing.
The doors open, and I do not leave.

Instead, I let go, 
a thread unraveling in the pew,
a name whispered under breath,
a shape dissolving into light.

Little Miss Marionette

Wry puppet princess just cut her strings;
Why comply and then be held captive?
Damselfly on her free wrist whispers   
‘Defy and let go of what’s submissive.’

Purge this Little Miss Marionette,
surge solo and secure the spotlight;
Splurge on a diamond encrusted crown,
emerge ready to claim your birthright.

Marionette

A little Soul that loves me
As I love her.
I made her so.

Our solitude, like snow.
That silencer of trees - whose
Leaves of thought fall softly.

Though born of trees, she never falls 
For I control her every move. 
And she will never fail me -

For frailty is flesh and blood
And Love that’s won.
Not made.

This little maid of paint and wood
Will never age.
Nor die, diseased - and weary.

New Puppeteer! - New Life!
Her strings can be repaired.
Her eyes - re-stared.

My fingers lose their grip on her
As she outlives My Life.
My Love. And so - 

I Gift this World this pretty Soul
Who stole my heart
And steals the Show.

Marionette

Marionette moves
manipulator hovers
someone pulling strings...
strands of literate design
the audience is transfixed

Marionette

Marionette

Never locked
The door is open
pet me, untangle me
Twistin’ and gropin’
Positioned, the curtains rise
Pull I stand, proud
Push I sit, shy
Tug here…  My hands raise
You open my mouth to praise
Jiggle that string
I walk away
Stop and still, and I stay
Manipulation
Control
Inside
Hollow
Eyes don't see
Ears don't hear
Close the curtain
I'm not here

Marionette

A marionette to the mind,
Whispering fading schematics,
Deluging the heart and soul, in a 
Juxtaposition of good and evil, 
Betwixt Heaven and hell, amidst
Snowdrifts that swirl before my eyes, while 
Spiritless shadows restlessly carouse;
Discordantly, far from reach,
Vagrantly ambling across
Deadened Arcadias, glimpsing 
Floating embers, in wake of 
Vivid firestorms, swallowing me whole,
Faltering with every step I take,
Decelerating towards the escape I seek,
As it rhythmically scars my timorous nature, 
Awakening the monsters hidden deep within-seeing red-
Bleeding out miasmic toxins, as noxious
Spores erupt, immersed in a haze of austerity, 
While it seeps and saturates, throughout 
Malignant wounds exposed, undulating between 
The storms of push and pull, as daunting
Tasks, of rippling sequences, splits my 
Chasmic core.
Soulless footprints are all that remain, as 
Moon tides wash ashore, ebbing away
Towards dystopian depths.

Marionette

The marionette spun and danced to the sound
played by the weary and weathered banjo man. 
She staggered with jerky leap and stuttered bound 
that thrilled the children as only a doll can.
Her wish as she was thread about and around
was that she were real and her own moves could plan.
Sad were her eyes as she schemed and dreamed to know
the world outside this traveling minstrel show.

Marionette Soup

Marionette soup comes in a midnight bowl
Filled to the brim with mushroom tumbling
Under the golden moon dolls cut their strings
Nutcrackers on crash diets sink saltines
Welcomed to float inside awhile
But not included in the price of dining

Russian dolls introduced to soup dive in
One after another dropped into darkness
Each one becomes smaller and smaller 
Within themselves only they know why
Perhaps pretty painted faces need flavor 
To appreciate the human race

There is no soup for you!

Forget about spoons at this hour
Two dainty fingers made of wood
Hold the bowl sides in balance for taste
Preparing to slurp what is inside
But marionettes are dignified. They don’t slurp
Discerning humans understand this part
It is an art
They have come to eat you and your soul
Assuming you have one worth consumption

My Marionette

It was getting harder and harder to fake. 
To put on a false grin that killed me
 with each of the face muscles that lifted. 
The devilish fiend cowered over me
 as strings were tied below me with draining force
 rather than above me with movement. 

My life's purpose trickled down from below me
 in a never-ending cascade. 
Even if he is silent and rarely insightful, 
the most abysmal flesh-eating virus to ever consume you 
will lead you to the darkness.

The Marionette

A slice of freedom unholy, 
cut the strings of the marionette; 
Bowing, you knew your master;

Giving into the will of the master 
attracted to this dance unholy;
Went on a rampage this marionette; 

You released a mad marionette 
fed it’s murderous master,
gave it a taste of the unholy;

Cursed unholy marionette master.

Marionette

I am not anymore controlled by your manipulative strings.
Freeing myself from you; my dictator who imprisoned me for a year.
You can’t put me on stage and do the most unwanted things.
I can’t be bent by your power; for I have nothing to fear.

Your theatrical works deftly let me lose control.
I will not portray the character that once you used to own.
A chance to take my life back; I’m taking my soul
and you have no choice but to leave me alone.

The hand-carved doll finally tastes his liberty for good.
Perhaps we can end it in a contract and close; 
But I should have shut it down long ago when I could. 
This time I play no more roles and I will repose.

No one else can tie their barbed thread on my body.
I control my life and I will not allow somebody.

The Handwriting of the Marionette

The Handwriting of the Marionette
David J Walker

The confessional was 
Paper-thin cursive in ink
A life of sin laid out in as few lines
As were memorable in a
Second person narrative 

The ventriloquist's voice opened 
The service with a far-off prayer
In another language of tongues
Which only the faithful could bare

As the maître de la marionette
Guided her signed confession

Utopia would open its gates
In the wake of the waves drowning
The funeral pyre 

So goes the soul as the steam rose
From the cut strings to the 
arcadian clouds somewhere higher 
And higher

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