Within prismed images I was captured
along with twilight as it tinted the sky.
We were ensnared during a power struggle
at the hour when sunlight wrestled the moon.
Neither wanted to vacate the celestial throne.
But I was the one fighting hardest to survive
when beveled tongues along mirrored edges
roared at me in the wilderness of life's jungle.
Voices were raised that sounded vaguely familiar.
The bitterness echoed and surrounded me.
I was blinded by distorted light from all directions.
Hunted like prey in the wilds,
staying alive proved to be a fractious task.
But fracturing seemed to be my only way out.
I broke down the walls of the reflective maze
and walked over dagger blades of broken shards.
Mirrors that are not hung never pose a threat.
Categories:
unhung, angst, confusion,
Form: Free verse
His neighbors window
has a glass eye,
it spies upon his thoughts
as they drift over
the rim of his morning coffee mug.
Strange portals exist
he sees them everywhere,
orbs that never blink.
At night he shouts at Americans in his dreams.
A window opens wide to shout back,
yet it says nothing,
Once he lived in a tower-block
with many windows.
His own apartment
looked inwards through a keyhole,
and when he was there
he had nowhere to hide.
Now he only sees the flutter of the wind
dancing with unhung drapes.
He shatters glass
rearranges the broken pieces
on the other side
of his see-through life.
Categories:
unhung, poetry,
Form: Free verse
We carry small talk above our heads, ceilings drip clouds.
Nothing is put away. Coats dangle over chairs in layers.
Drugged by spate and mizzle, denim droops,
snagged over rummage
and the outstretched arms of impedimenta.
The house awakes to a soft toed patter.
Around us, cuffs pull the roof closer to damp collars,
hangers weep in wardrobes,
while the unhung sink in muddy shallows.
Before the light paddles away, calico, cotton, and shirttails
are rescued, bundled into higher heaps;
the soggy separated from the merely mildewed.
The muddled and fusty raised above an imagined tide.
Tomorrow, front steps will be scoured;
the washed-out made to flap.
Squirrels may walk the earth again,
and if a blotting wind returns, we will wave
from dry bathtubs.
Categories:
unhung, poetry,
Form: Free verse
(In Utah in January 1977, murderer
Gary Gilmore insisted on being put
to death. After leaving his eyes to
medical science, his last words were
"Let's do it". Imagine that you woke
up in hospital to find they'd given
you Gilmore's eyes ...)
I can see clearly
now the rain has gone.
I read the news today, oh boy.
Psycho killer - qu'est-ce que c'est?
Nice surprise.
They've given me his eyes.
Will I start to show
at the bars he used to go?
Bottom rung, unsung,
unhung, bring 'em young.
My name is Faye -
now you're gonna pay.
Lean, mean, Steve McQueen,
Terry Malloy,
Bobby Prewitt.
I can see Deirdre
now Lorraine has gone.
Sound and vision.
Going in with my eyes open.
Slip slidin' away.
New start, too smart,
play the part,
Robin Hood, no good,
In cold blood,
through the heart.
Let's do it.
Categories:
unhung, society,
Form: Rhyme
These changes in a day are
rippling through me
Down right crippling
you'll see
Some days I feel like
a toilet of crap
A revolting smell
that snaps at my back
Other days I speak
sideways in tongues
The language of cohesion
levitating unhung
And other days I see
the spreading of canker
A slow bubbling
of pernicious anger
Popping pustules
of infectious rancor
(Work in progress)
Categories:
unhung, feelings,
Form: Rhyme
The days pass slowly in cold repose
Futile as the frozen clock upon the wall
Without movement, there is no purpose
Without purpose, there is no reason
Without reason, there is cold repose
Shrouded in gauze beneath the world.
The day will come, the hour will strike
Comfort cast aside
Stairs descended in easy stride
Doors flung open, windows unhung
Breath alone will draw the clouds from the sun
Inhaling deep, the grey within
Emerging red, filled to the brim
With fire and love cast cross the skies
For no flame ever dies
Where a single spark survives.
Categories:
unhung, fire,
Form: Free verse
His name just rolls of my tongue
Reminds me of when we were young
Of the songs we left unsung
Of Love’s picture left unhung
His name makes my heart dance
Reminds me of our sweet romance
How I lost him by circumstance
How I long for one more chance
His name leads me to dream
Of meeting him by a stream
Of seeing his eyes gleam
Of releasing passion’s scream
His name makes my heart desire
To add substance to that fire
To make love and never tire
To be free again to conspire
His name brings exquisite delight
Whispered softy in the night
Floods my soul with its light
Turns all that’s bad aright
His name every night haunts
Laying bare all my heart wants
My resolve to be strong it taunts
The potential for passion it flaunts
His name, his name, his name
Has made of my life a game
Has shown I can’t be the same
When my heart makes love to that name
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
unhung, passion, me, heart, heart,
Form: Monorhyme
As I clean my closet,
I find:
3 homework assignments
10 rubberbands
5 dirty socks (were is the sixth)
8 unhung shirts
6 pairs of pants
9 magazines
1 pair of glasses
3 unpaid tickets(jail time there)
1 broken camera
and the reason it's all still in the closet
Categories:
unhung, funny
Form: List