Ars Poética (Life’s Ingénue)
I always wanted to die like a hero, but I was never helpful enough.
So I switched to being a genius,
but my time ticked away with the infinite scroll.
I developed a talent for acting and so you casted me
as your life’s ingénue.
Now I’ll be remembered for my endless stream of verses about feeling unmoored.
To live like a poet means to hide the insurmountable
behind shades of gray,
so behind every anaphora, assonance, and ballad
there’s a little bit of you, the pièce de résistance.
And did you know poets weren’t merely entertainers
in the olden days?
If I were a man in Anglo-Saxon times,
I wouldn’t be your royal buffoon.
Instead of being a court jester, I would be tied to the oracle.
So while i dream of dying like a martyr,
my biggest concern shouldn’t be to amuse.
Unlikely to think that you’d suffer upon my departure, my lover,
my owner, my muse.
And when I run out of illusory verses and come to my senses,
lover, you’re on your own…
quietus made-
all is paid,
the lad is laid
where he rips-
unmoored,unmoored.
as bellows him away,the tides-
the tides.
no more the oars,the aches,the whip
the anchor is gone,the lantern is spent-
the ledger is closed-at such cost.
safe from the gale and the harbor's keep
bound to where the restless find their shoreless keep.
The Unmoored Ship
I waltz through the ship,
Yet not dancing like the eerie drizzle in my mind,
While footprints dissolve into the quiet embrace of the deck.
The laborers pace back and forth,
Hauling their burdens—
Just like me, struggling to steady my steps,
Misaligned with my thoughts.
I beg the tranquil wind
Not to whisper my prophecy to the sky,
But the sky knows—
My heart is rumbling, just like the restless waves below,
Ready to make the ship quiver with an untold feeling.
Just as I thought this feeling would fade,
At the edge of the deck, I saw a beautiful stranger lit from within,
Glowing through every inch of the deck,
Piercing my heart on the verge of darkness.
The way the rainbow shimmered in his eyes
Made me realize—
I wanted to love my life again.
white balloon of pulse beats
its sluggish hops on March land
matted with half melted snow
freed from a nearby high rise balcony
cut from its red and blue compatriots
still hooked onto the railing
a matter of strings becoming frayed
small white blimp
reacting to a wind that means much less to others
unsettling to think it can't find its mooring
its bustable skin
flimsy
like the shallow breath of an aged sleeper
how long before it flees to some kind of shelter
small white balloon
soon to be picked up as litter
bouncing in its frailty
blow by blow
a swivel from side to side
and always
its sense of being under seige
REVELATION
It was ages since we ‘d met. I dread her visits.
The melodrama and discord leave me unmoored.
My sister’s hugs morphed into stones, dropped one by one.
Words hitting dark water. Circles of disbelief spun around me.
Not one scintilla of truth.
I glimpsed her self-satisfied smirk.
We’d been close in our teens…
A deep breath. No , Sis, it never happened.
She tossed her curls. But I was there. I saw you. Him too.
Did counselling
and hypnosis bring her easy certitude?
No sis…
She glared. It’s true. Do you think I’m mad?
DECIMA WRAXALL
Blessings
For your pendant fingers
Coconut skin
Heart chakra third eye visions
Knotting off Void
While we shared a harbor
Now
Unmoored in Loss
Waves greet the sky
My blessings sink to cyphers
Of a language buried
In the din of
Ocean
How chafed the foot bereft of sole,
when unshod thoughts meet splintered floor.
Known terra firma drifts from whole,
as reason loses sight of shore.
I’ll wander where the breeze seems kind;
sweet apple blossom fairies lure.
Away from those who cage the mind,
indulging revelations – pure.
I’ll play the bride in quaint repose,
replete in sagely fettered yearn.
A farm house dowry, heaven chose;
soon I will quell all mused concern.
Old voices join the pipers tune,
a melody once clear – opaque.
Reality lies roughly hewn,
upon this page; my soul awake.
**29 May 2017**
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.