Short Bespoken Poems

Owed

to soar

in self-pride

wreck must endure.

Adored, bespoken, and kindly estranged


Written: February 11, 2022...

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You cannot surrender
passion
Kill the seeds  
of a new dawn
Silence
a word bespoken 
Or finish
—what can only start

(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)
...

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The tailored line,
bespoken Poet

With needle sharp,
to hem and sew it

Where thoughts as threads,
stitch out as whole

Whose words once seamed
—contain my soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)...

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The world is becoming
impossible to govern
Each person that island
Donne warned us about

All sense of belonging
in mirrors bespoken 
The strength of shared values
—our vanity flouts

(Dreamsleep: February, 2023)...

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Tripping over my shadow,
guilt darkened the night

The devil bespoken,
fear burning bright

Stepping into the darkness,
one chance to look back

Light shouting farewell
—as panic attacked

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)...

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The solemn night's silence was
  broken,
As needles pierces with a shrieking 
  sound bespoken.
So the growl of the wolverine breakthrough 
  the moonless night,
Waking up in a jolt, drenched in sweat,  
  what a sweet plight,
Lo, it was only a frozen case of a
  nightmare awoken....

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The child of
a desert wind 
and a mystery …
he swept across the land

Knighting each moment
with martial intent … 
death
at his command

All enemies chosen
with glorious care … 
each battle
zero sum 

His legend immortal
written in blood …
the future bespoken
—eternity's son

(The New Room: August, 2023)...

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Stillness unbroken, love suffused
Vibrant bliss in fullness 
No longer by ego bemused 
We’re one with That oneness

Aversion and desire
Burnt in funeral pyre
Bliss aglow, heart afire

Clear truth bespoken
Stillness unbroken

13-November-2021
Quietus

''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
 ...

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Elegant portico columns, fireplace frame
Fronting tasteful, demure white walls
Rich browns -- pianoforte, armchair
Muted ostentation, classicism bespoken --
the eye startled, struck
by the clear glass vase 
on the mantel
stems ascending 
to bold-green leaves
slightly upturned
as are firm, youthful breasts
topped by brilliant bursts
of pink-streaked flowers
panorama...

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The invasion upon us
attacked by a neighbor
no village is safe
their scourge overruns

The enemy dressed
as civilian turistas
our border wide open
and freely they come

No shots have been fired
or prisoners taken
the keys to our arsenal
willingly loaned

Our schools now infested
with quotas bespoken   
surrounded and cornered
—the fault but our own

(McAllen Texas: September, 2022)...

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I welcome the feeling
of leaving behind …
No Facebook, no Twitter
no Email to blind

Controlling the message
undigitized truth
My mind free of programs
my spirit induced

Where magic is whispered
no texting or bytes
Bespoken the voices
I hear in the night

My memory stays active
not stored in the Cloud
Rebooting what’s under
— enlightenment’s shroud

(The New Room: January, 2024) 
...

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Listen to poem:

The gulf between us
is such a yawn.
It's boredom 
drawn out 
in endless re-runs.
Opposites are meant to
attract like magnets,
north and south. 
Right!
But our chasm is abysmal.
It's a melody of maladies
and sick jokes bespoken
by a stand-up
with yawning incompetence
standing on a cliff,
shouting into the distance
while peering into the gulf
of what might have been.
No one's listening.
Right!...

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One last day to suffer,
as silence endures

One new day engendered,
to motion toward

A musical seamstress,
to stitch me back whole

A lyrical consort,
inscribed to behold

Each word as my seed,
 laying fertile the plain

Each phrase lost and orphaned,
my spirit reclaims

That breath once bespoken,
new hope to set free

That voice reawakened
—whose soul unto thee

(The Book Of Prayers: April, 2020)...

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One last day to suffer,
as silence endures

One new day engendered,
to motion toward

A musical seamstress,
to stitch me back whole

A lyrical consort,
inscribed to behold

Each word as my seed,
to lay fertile the plain

Each phrase lost and orphaned,
my spirit reclaims

That breath once bespoken,
new hope to set free

That voice reawakened
—whose soul unto thee

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2020)...

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Waking every day
finding part of me behind
The loom threadbare and empty
no yarn there left to find

Coming apart in pieces
stitches lose their hem
Expectations falling fast
inching toward the end

Daylight into darkness
bespoken twill in threads
Voices used to mend and fit
silenced, like the dead

Sleeping with the remnants
dreams of memories lost
Desperations patchwork quilt
—blanketing the cost

(Dreamsleep: June, 2022)...

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