We lament for massive ,angelical
innocent ,pure flowers
are killed.
It brims over with unimpeded
bloodshed.
In the realm of hopelessness
is embede in dreadful, terrifying
horrifying acts.
God' symphonic, harmonious lark
will prevail. sometime. Dove
will dominates our earth.
The weeping, wailing butterfly is
the bloodstained, gloomy
river.
The ravishing ,glittering tapestry of trueness
will embrace our unfeigned weary soul.
No such lifeless heat-pulsed void
Nothing inhabits.
Whose unimpeded view flits
Screechy hazed away!
And mistake not those ripples
Creeked and grassed a-gleam
For a wind's own stepped cheer-beam.
Eel and snake out-splay.
Poetry to be had in most
everything -- the ceiling fan for
instance, it's off now; heat slicing
blades silenced --
a ticking clock becoming more
apparent, poetry in the on-wall
antique as well; thinking that if only
crystal moderns we could have outlawed --
keeping strong the heartbeat refrain of old pendulum
swingers....a wind, a fond nudge
when needed, and animation resumes rhythmic
and unimpeded. I miss you.
Corrupt heart, depraved mind
A master of time, the weaver of trap
One whose mouth, falsehood emit
Gone from men, man and ghoul part and part
A victor, the slayer of ten men
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
The stopper of the flow of time
Catching his victim, in his well made net
Armed with a sneering dog
He is myth, the god of men
He was here before humans lived
The devil we can see
A menace since he was in diaper
Daily baths in the pool of tears
Constant loop of wretching blows
Till he killed the first, a debt repaid
He swore to fight as long as he live
Till he becomes one, the evil incarnate
Indomitable will, never to de-rail
He became the killer, the liar, the satan
He walks unimpeded to glory
A war dog, feared berserker
Hushed whispers turned raw
The god of men, the breaker of dreams
The mulberry fell to its knees;
in Smith-Gilbert Garden, it prays,
near the moss-stone steps;
and I look on, in curiosity.
It was an oddity, but I learned
of its plight. In sorrow, we make
it right, a great fall onto infrangible ground.
Like a bonsai tree, twisted.
Listed, like a ship at storm,
but sailors will never use nets,
to cast, for silent butterflies;
In July, they gather.
Hereby is Summer magic,
buzzing bees, buckeyes, swallowtails
and painted ladies (sailors swear by them).
Yes, all the prayers needed.
Unimpeded, the mulberry fell,
whilst fluttering wings that disappear
in season’s cold, bring merriness,
there’s little hope for thee.
Still, we visit the treasure that bows,
climb the steps, for a further glimpse.
This garden is where I stroll
among the butterflied tree.
hard–to-bear rare pain -
has come again and again.
I would give for health
my share of wealth not needed
so unimpeded I’d be
We see ourselves unimpeded initially
Some are stricken with a view artificially
We are told by others very specifically
There is a ceiling so proceed timidly
We try in vain with no support futilely
As we age blazing the path dizzily
Sometimes we see the results dismally
Eventually we learn to climb skillfully
We began to achieve sufficiently
Eventually finding success brilliantly
Living life with dreams so vividly
Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly
Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly
We remain in the arena mistily
Each overcautious step taken judicially
We endure the voice shouting viciously
The battle to continue is done willfully
How do you think Scheherazady
Would incorporate her body
To spice up those tales and keep enticed
That potentate?
She would ges-tic-u-late.
Aladdin could have faced disaster,
But the djinn said to his master,
"I've three wishes I can grant
But can't articulate
Lest you ges-tic-u-late."
In ancient Greece Olympian Zeus
Would turn his Titan anger loose,
And lightning bolts he'd throw to show
That how his wrath to demonstrate,
He would ges-tic-u-late.
Superheroes spend long hours
Developing their special powers
Of strength and speed that's unimpeded,
So they wear costumes both for show and to facilitate
When they ges--tic-u-late.
So, let me say here, as I wind up,
When you talk, just make your mind up,
To enhance your speech and diction,
Take a tip from folks in fiction,
Make your conversation great
And just ges-tic-u-late.
A Capulet named Juliette
Exclaimed to her ardent beau,
"You're not to blame Montagu's your name.
By its nature a rose's aroma is sweet,
Though in nomenclature it be not so neat,
But wherefore art thou Romeo?
Why can't you be John, or Frank, or Ben,
Gregory, Justin, Bill, or Farley?
I'd even go for Joe, or Charlie,
Or Abelard, or even Sven."
"Hey, I didn't choose it, so please don't abuse it,"
The young swain gently pleaded.
"We must conclude our families' feud
If our love's to proceed unimpeded."
But those star-crossed lovers
Were destiny's fools,
They drank poison and ended up dead.
In that feud Shakespeare roped them,
When he could have eloped them,
And written those kids a happy ending instead.
While sailing unimpeded in the sea of hope
Sloshing over its expanding silver
Like a sailor addicted to the sea
Feeling the electric power of waves
Unwilling to be restrained
An avalanche of despair hit from behind
Shattering my Titanic like egg shells
I am now brutally ripped apart,
Desperately clutching at the shattered pieces
How a smiling visage turned sinister
In no time before any hint could be got
Here I am on a perilous voyage
Swimming against the stab of fear
With no lighthouse in view
A float tossed about by an uncanny fate!
Is my escape an armistice with life?
I see someone swimming by my side
A hooded assassin or a Saviour
To drown me or take me to a safe shore
I wonder!
August.8.2022
Strong Emotions Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Emile Pinet
Emotions chosen- Hope, despair, fear
Ever since we can remember the static white noise in our head's.
A voice one for each,
Most some here I know now, have more than one or so I think.
Conflicts arise, conflicts abate who am I to judge or to take,
To make you take pills to lesson the pain, I can't see your face.
High in the sky,
Twenty four seven, hundreds of planes fly in different directions.
And they not from here fly around unimpeded.
Static white noise made to distract you thinking in sleep, moving
Pictures that haunt you.
As here in America most grow even poorer to tired to think and
Some haven't seen the heavenly star's,
For the pain that two voices fight for control inside of your head's.
Half cannot see or even now feel it, the noise blocking out and the
thoughts that went with it.
There are but few a few that they know of that and suffer not one way
Or can think for another.
Out in the ocean not far from the sea a stream forms a river, that
Allows one to sleep.
Free from the noise, deep in a dream where the few who once knew,
Without fear can cross over.
I write my words and then set them free
unimpeded they float and drift like birds fluttering
once born I love my ink like a child cherished
some fall into the ocean and sink beneath the waves
but some reach a heavenly place to dwell
and others to a forgotten land where words go to die
_____________________
January 20, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/words with wings
Copyright Protected, ID 01-143-177-20
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Bite Size Poem No 33
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 01/25/2022
stuffed with self, extruded
he staggered, drunk selfish
unable to hear,
unable to imbibe the context.
blinded by mirrors reflecting
distorted selfies in a slide show,
content with mindfulness
walking on the beach, he tripped
fell forward, distracted,
fell face-down, mindless,
limp and unimpeded,
no hands caught his fall,
leaving his mask, full-facial
and expression-less,
a self-portrait impression
a blip embedded in the sand.
Just another word for nothing more to lose,
when expectation went for another cruise.
Problems mingle with the small routine,
chained to circumstances all foreseen.
The dream of other shores so indulgent,
seeming liberation when ifs are urgent.
Choice of independence treasure,
hidden potential and its measure.
To serve or to be served in question,
characters and some act of digestion.
The free will and action unimpeded,
or moral responsibilities just proceeded.
Blasphemy and rejection of grace,
conscious control emerge to face.
Determination in advance,
destiny and her eternal dance.
Ego’s possibilities worth creating,
free impressions that keep waiting.
Quantum randomness to the point,
or fate versus free will God anoint.
Freedom from fear and only prison,
whispers for the right decision.
For many of us the holidays are happy times…it’s when we smile, we laugh…we grin but for many others the holidays is when sorrow comes flooding in.
When the waters of sadness rise around them…as they are reminded of a death, they wonder how long they’ll be underwater…how long they’ll have to hold their breath.
And though they know the flood will on day end and their life will resume unimpeded…they wonder how they’ll repair the damage once the waters have receded.
How will they rebuild each time they’re reminded of their pain…if they’re lucky they start to notice little things…like the sky after a rain.
Like how the sunlight paints the morning sky as it welcomes in the day.
Like the laughter of their family…and friends they’ve met along the way.
There is no time limit on sadness…and it may take a while…but eventually they begin to remember all the things that made them smile.
And the more they remind themselves of the pleasures in their life…the less they think about the pain…
a skill they will find useful…when the waters rise again.
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