Short Visages Poems

Tranquil looking visages

Of trio in sepia,

Will remain forever .

-Ism...

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Grizzled visages
of ol’ dogs and Irishmen
Signs of well worn lives
...

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Chill breath
of Autumn sears
the poppy scarlet red 
visages of young men,long dead
appear....

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face
lie
closed off
built on fear
to forget my dreams
and remember the things i hear
making it harder for me to move on from my past
knowing this pain i feel inside will continue with a burning that will never end...

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Secluded in  the last visages
millenium wine washed down by punters
Pinch pockets stare sideways
Spot like eyes
being close with lilly eyed iwallets
A figurative disguise turning blase
The servant drums dance
Harlequins of night mass parade
winding seawards
worshiping the pipers
who have to be paid...

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what grows from these petri dishes? 

when will these hives
with their metal monsters
their deceiving smiles
their artistic like visages 

stop breeding,

stop growing,

like a virus?

what of the fertile land they cover,
the resources they consume? 
what of their ravenous appetite?

and barely
a forest untouched.


17~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne...

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Had I the choice to choose the greatest poets, to depict their visages by drawing them at their loftiness,
and volitionally strive to equal or excel, Poe for his lamenting woes or Browning’s dramatic monologues, or Whitman’s
ever refined Leaves of Grass, to wit the best, these and others I’d gladly trade for just the scent of you upon my verse, even for a moment....

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Les fleurs, frissonnent et se fanent
et les feuilles brisées salissent la terre 
tordu et froid - plane au rythme durent
comme des visages rompus, emprisonné d’une peinture

Et tes yeux noirs brûlent 
comme le brouillard de ce soir
dans le ventre du chaudron ignoble
enlaidi par les marteaux de Hephaestus (le magnifique), qui serre
le charbon, qu'appelles-tu tes yeux - les diamants transpercent....

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Les passants, les passages

Fantômes de la nuit
Avec aucun visage
Les passants pensée est un mirage
Le mirage voit des visages vides seulement

Les passages ont des secrets
Les passants voient pas
Le roman se termine
Quand les amants cessent de tenir la main

les passage est noir
Au fond de la terre
Lorsque les trains nous emmènent nulle part
Écouter tranquillement
Tous les passants pleurent...

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ingenious
       scintillating self asserted
           image depicted
in strange visages
        appearing
           to revolve

observations
       in myriad textures
      monumental mesmorising
faraway
out of nowhere
             refined & naturalistic
three dimensional
minimalistic
       conceived
           projected
                inspired. ambiguous
yet
       deeply
                significant...

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They are not there
Yet they seem so alive
But I hear them, I see them, I swear 
They’re beyond what my brain can contrive 
Shadowy visages, monsters galore 
My visions entertain me 
I never grow bored
The adults shove me their pills 
To “keep me grounded” 
They dull my mind’s thrills 
I’m no longer unbounded
I crave my imagination 
The reality-fantasy mixup
I’m nothing without my creations 
Because why stop dreaming when you wake up?...

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In the night
those tiny hairs
stand erect
at attention on my neck
Eyes darting from
lights undisturbed movement
Gulp almost in audible
under the racing muscles thrum
Noises unnoticed in the sunlights charm
Now bring visages of predestined harm
Dark scurries into shadow
Is there someone there ?
a pause expectant of reply
listening as the sound bounces
and breaks
stranding me in the silence
Floorboards give a gentle rasp
as my sight fumbles in the shadows
does the dark look back...

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