You light the match to watch it blow,
swift and powerful, revealing its untamed nature...
Creating a maelstrom of feelings
Embracing and showing the deep.
Untouchable, burning brighter than the sun,
Desolation's soft voice, and gaze in a silent exchange,
enduring the bond she shared with both.
Whilst the aureate sun peeks as it
hangs motionless upon the air and deep beneath
the rolling waves in a labyrinth of coral waves
the echo of a distant time.
Steaming stars lingering with dark
with its low lighting, silent speaker
Beguiling the days while nature Inherent rhyme:
adding a placid, quintessential scene unbound.
"When this work is done and this coat is dry,
When this world is too much, it will be
only the ocean and me,"
Tugging away, ruling the passing hours of night and day.
My Sweet-Candid Ophelia
Hamlet did loveth your fairness yet frailness
You showed him and the World that Love's pure through your playful kindness
The sweet haunting of your departing has taught us a happy yet bittersweet lesson.
William did giveth you a mercy ending for all the pain in the world.
You'll forever remain in Hamlet's heart
For which you're bounded in eternity
Amen
Post-Script, Love XO Isaiah A. Asangalisah.
The quintessential of nyctophilia, wrapped in bridal attire, slowly and slowly as in somnambulism there goes the heroine of timeless tragedy to supersede her lovers feigned insanity.
Her beloved father is no more, being killed by her suitor's intrigued tyranny;
ignored to be drowned, to burn in the flame of plotted felony.
Jilted, to be startled by the selcouth performance of her handsome wooer's vile strategy;
there goes the most beautiful heroine ever to be the victim of fated irony,
immersed in senseless lunacy, to vanish from the sight of Hamlet's fatalistic eyes to bid adieu to the agony,
slowly and slowly to be disappeared into melancholic darkness from the dazzling maniac opaque sight;
there goes the Danish heroine of evergreen tragedy.
“Only in his hometown and in his own household is a prophet without honor.” Matthew 13:57
Sometimes, when I go shopping, I meet a strange woman.
Barefoot,
dressed only in a garland of dried flowers and an old sheet stained with bird droppings,
with last year’s nest on the head and ecstatic glint in the eyes,
she gets up on the pallet of tinned peas
and makes a speech.
I wonder who she is.
Another one crazy goddess of Walmart?
An older Ophelia the shepherds saved and smuggled oversea to the States?
Or, maybe, she is an anthropomorphic metaphor for the knowledge obscure to mere mortals?
She seems to be upset that people can't figure out a word she says.
I understand your feelings, metaphor:
even a small knowledge seems great to the ignorant;
the great knowledge seems to them madness.
08.11.2019
Last Year's Nests Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Reading Shakespeare, I used to smoke Ophelia’s garland for a better understanding: crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. Fingers caused hypnogogic hallucinations, daisies – hypnopompic ones. Alas, crow-flowers and nettles didn’t work, but on the plus side, it got me thinking whether predetermination is predetermined. Hamlet is just in time to throw drowning Ophelia an inflatable crocodile and they live long and happily together, having left Shakespeare holding the bag.
is there a free will
in a predetermined world -
that is the question
Blasphemy of course, the blood seekers wailed.
Afraid of her God, Baal, terrified of her tantric sexuality
She was all the things they feared the most.
Assertive, calm, self-pronounced, meditative,
Thoughtful. She would turn the women into thinkers!
She was golden to their pretend silver.
Fear encouraged them to plot her demise and death
She is a jezebel, one who had been rebuffed said,
stirring them up into a frenzy, enjoying their quickness to
follow, without questioning his arrogance or his motives.
Ophelia was sitting under Wisteria, watching a praying mantis,
No concern at all, not realizing their fierce anger towards her
Feeling one with nature, and Baal, she was content.
Even forgiving Hamlet his mistreatment of her.
Her thoughts were of Mt. Zion, and how beautiful
her last visit to Jerusalem had been.
She who had no knowledge of the fierceness
Of feral men who misunderstood her, and were
plotting to throw her over a balcony,
to squelch her beauty, and her beliefs.
She was a danger to them
apparently.
ACT 1, SCENE 1
Opening night of a new West End Production called
‘Shakespeare: Ode to a Character’
Curtain rises
Enter BENEDICK (in full costume as Ophelia from Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’)
BENEDICK:
‘An Ode to Ophelia’
I have a heart,
Which is bound in its own chains,
Arteries crystallised in bleak light.
I want to love,
I want to be loved in return –
More than anything, I feel.
Walking alone,
The ache of an empty life can crash in,
Breaking your tongue,
Cracking like frozen words.
All I want,
Is to hear once the songs you sing,
To think you could love me,
Or even know who I am.
I would wrap my hands
In feathered garlands,
Flowered rings
That may decay with my dying heart.
But, oh god,
I know,
How you drowned in your elemental beauty,
How you collapsed beneath the patriarch.
In your sunken deathbed,
Hair betrothed without such wedded bliss,
Voice silenced in unspoken vows,
You shone like an icon and deity.
Goddess, Diana,
One soliloquy, one heartbreak, one funeral.
Lunar.
But how dare I,
Ophelia,
Ever compare myself to you.
(Exit)
Ophelia had cancerous breasts
According to all of the tests
But old Doctor Kaiser
Was simply a miser
Who plundered the most treasured chests
while you wondered, to be or not to be
I already knew my truth
to walk this world alone, my love
confused and mad with grief
water it calls to me, I ask
how deep do I drown my sorrows
for a man who never loved me
never wiped my tears, never held my hand
I knew my fate before anyone
to drift on endless tides tangled in the reeds
call me Ophelia once more, my love
I will hear you as I die
umbrella graveyard
broken spines, dead in the street
hurricane hits hard
We are currently in the grips of the aftermath of hurricane Ophelia - there has been some damage on our little Island but so far everyone is safe although there have been several fatalities in Ireland where the storm seems to be centered:-(
10/16/17
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
From my teenage daze
She was getting down to a guitar groove
She could rock and roll ( boy could she)!!
When her mom and dad raised her
'Bet they broke the mold
She was wearing cool black leather jeans
Just like a second skin
"Said Hi..My names Ophelia!
Wanna take a sawdust spin
Ophelia..asked me to dance
(did it..did it..did it)
That pretty little amber blonde
Put me in a black leather trance
I thought...Girl if you've got a mindset
To give my heart a thrill
Ophelia......Well I think I will!
Then she put her little satin hand in mine
The softest touch I had felt in a long time
I saw magic in her warm brown eyes
If it is really real
She might turn this sawdust into silk
Ophelia...asked me to dance.........
Protected by Broke Poets Insurance Inc.
Not grasping flowers as she descends to oblivion,
merely holding paraphernalia of abuse.
Her sweet voice silenced by death's heavy kiss,
as she sinks in her olive oil waters.
bathing, in preservation of beauty,
the black Ophelia falls prey to the Bard's soft words,
the waters "pulled the poor wretch down to muddy death."
"incapable of her own distress."
No flowery verse to mourn this passing,
no singing softly as she succumbs this coil.
The black Ophelia's eyes are closed,
as the cold waters seal her fate
*Inspired by the painting "Ophelia" by John Mellias and the circumstances surrounding the death of Whitney Houston.
O luckless maid! such beauteous
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!
Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
in the Dane's misguided sway.
It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's eddy
to thy final resting place.
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