A blank book lay on the table.
On it, the keys of the house
Waited to lock, unlock.
A gilded frame, echoing memories
Of love, waited, to be lifted, held.
Dragonflies silently flew following the rays
that streamed through the window panes.
The table cloth, bed sheets; friends in time
Looked at each other in the gloom.
The vase stood tall, awaiting fresh flowers.
Listless, the showpieces stand
with webs, catching dreams they weave
Secrets hushed, dust gathering on them
they pose at the fallen curtains, wrinkled, torn.
in the misty space, growing thin.
The oval shaped glass at a distance,
Still carried the perfume long used.
The book on the table, waited for a pen.
It’s pages, blank. Unaware, whispering
A past that never gave birth to a future.
On one side, a glass of water half empty,
Waited to be re-filled.
So has been the shelf, the cupboard, the bed
waiting, to be touched, held, spent.
For seven years now.
As thirty-eighth Brazilian president Messias served,
As a far-sighted and populist his name he preserved;
A vocal opponent of same-sex marriage, abortion,
He stood for family worth and affirmative action...!
Don't the passerines for protection of chicks their lives spend?
Isn't shielding people's rights the task of a president?
Crises of the economy nationwide he confronted,
Unity in diversity of the globe he wanted...!
"The truth will set you free" - was his own personal motto,
Betwixt the voice of liberty, has been a vibrato;
Assaulted, stabbed, and attempted to be killed he ever stood firm,
He fulfilled his love for his citizens throughout his term...!
Could the wisdom of the world fathom, yet, his true being?
Have his works been done, as showpieces just for their seeing?
His life is for his living, and not for others to judge,
Neither their praises he must fudge; nor their hate he must grudge...!!!
16 May 2023
I hear he's a winner Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Rare, natural, unblemished, lasting and profound
Beauty is penned, defined and crooned
From poets, authors, artist and strangers
Described in depth, penned to death,
Setting standards unreachable by the masses.
Products slathered, potions swallowed, scalpels wielded
Suctioned and enhanced to have a chance
In a world so small minded and superficial
Seeking an approved, natural look
From the very masses that sit in self help classes.
Time creeps up, with gravities silent pull
Stripping the unnatural lifts, tucks and additions
Gone are the showpieces, the odes of the poet
Forgotten by the masses attending their classes
Artificial beauty, behind walls free of mirrored glasses.
Chickasaw warrior…Apache brave
Chimed echo from recent pasts
Rawhide clad of bow and stave
Our iconic figure now cast
Roaming prairies open plains
Selfless equal within nature
A simple life of a people proud
Societies of ancient stature
Cherokee warrior…Arapaho brave
Awakened into midnight battle
Blue eyes aim down the thunder sticks
Reaping from cavalry saddles
Shunned showpieces of society
Called examples of a savage pride
Crushed of tyrannical booted propriety
In the federal wastes to reside
Tillamook warrior…Shoshone brave
Hunted through the very last stand
Forced to the brink of identity lost
Imprisoned in fenced desert sands
Allow the great spirits to soar the skies
A birthright given back anew
This aspiration for the tribes we hold
Sadly realized by consciences few
Indian warriors…fighters brave
Truest peace I offer my hand
Headdress upon the shadowy brow
Those great tribes once roaming the lands.
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