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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
DESERVE
Deserve- that in which we use to critique our life's ways
a way to hold back our existence
to project a negative
and cease the positive intake
Deserve - the breath we don't take
as life is critical and cruel
A risk we avoid
A praise we reject
A life unlived by definition of the term
Deserve - the animosity within that deprives us of beauty
a vast cavernous region of self loathing
unfathomable entities that we must surpass to succeed
striving for more - better
Deserve - enraptures a lustful desire to withdraw and hide
shades of veils, impenetrable walls of denial
vulnerabilities and nakedness
the exposure of truth - internalised
we hide - we die
Deserve - you deserve all that you have
you deserve the power from recognition
and you deserve forgiveness
forgiveness of self, of others; which cannot be attained
but self as best it can
Deserve - Deserve - Deserve
Angered by such a dismissal I am
so wondrous in 'sup-prose'
you ...
your inner musings,
your lexical landscape
your shy confidence
self depreciating
You DESERVE more
Deserve - embrace, reclaim, rejoice
recognise the wealth my versifying friend
the promise in the scroll of a pen
the battle within let it bleed across the page
and cleanse with deliberate introspection
stand tall...
for my friend - you DESERVE it all
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
He waits, by the gate, alone
I never know quite what for,
Family ties divided,
withdrawn, perhaps forlorn.
His life is riotous,
yet his soul is gentle,
although the mind; tumultuous
his heart is sentimental.
For he loves her, he knows
a fair kind lady
who greets him with a smile
and removes all malady.
His love is friendship,
considerate and mild,
not a lovers fair,
but a genuine; thanks for being there.
He waits by the gate,
carries her bag
as she leads him into a world
of joy, avoiding the drag.
After he leaves,
he returns with a smile,
a cake for her birthday,
welcoming, free of beguile.
He is loved,
her gift for all,
but to him,
it is in no way small.
Her heart is fire,
flame, and care,
and she comes to gate,
knowing he will be there.
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
I fear our next encounter;
haunted by your sight.
Your presence penetrates my heart like a knife.
Your not a man but an intruder,
forcing your way, judge and juror.
Hand down your penalty, much we must take.
Abrasions, contusions, are your biggest mistake.
Hugs and kisses, only come from jerks,
"I LOVE YOU - I'M SORRY",
your BANDAIDS don't work.
Brute force.
Torn at the seams.
Dare to move.
Dare to scream.
Noise not permitted,
take it, be silent.
Withhold your tears in his judgement.
Is there a thin line between DISLIKE and HATE?
Can you define where one begins and the other one waits?
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
Generous of heart, the morning his light,
with a spirit of passion he shares his wisdom.
He muses his manic state with courage - profound - Awen
Glowing, he sparkles, eyes twinkle,
timid - unsure, rich in a maelstrom of ideas,
and silent contemplation - Awen
Cloaked yet exposed, open and free,
protecting his inner soul as he imparts his knowledge,
distracting through equation - Awen
Numeric of mind, instrumentally in tune - a converging compass mainly longitude.
The lateral advances of his discourse,
become a passionate concept - an interlude - Awen
The warmth and softness, as the lines string together,
pausing to reflect, he searches the precise -
as he hunts for accuracy - the consistent flow - Awen
Seeks clarity - yet remains confused, the touch is calming, encouraging fluidity of speech,
he's curious to watch as the physical ignites his soul,
the contact eliciting the passion at hand - a conundrum - Awen
A library in context, you are , my friend
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
He left the slumbering lovers bed,
his wife beneath the covers.
He crept to the door in stealth unbecoming
and went to join the others.
Her friend it was, and 20 sets of stairs,
and they became the lovers.
The pleasurable sounds that permeated the home,
entered the bedroom where she lay,
and although she suspected from long ago,
in her face did he play.
Broken, disheartened, but already knew,
she mounted the stairs that day.
Lost two of her loves, in a moments pleasure,
all future hopes a strain.
For they chose each other, and under the cover,
her dreams began to wane.
The longing and passion, in a love affair for life,
never to be kissed in the rain.
27/10/2018
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
The tears path defines the time of sorrows end,
A time where alone has a new beginning,
The watery stain across the flesh of her cheek,
Her strength, knowing her heart can falter,
A small breath, a tiny step, a smile,
There is path ahead to follow,
Life - an unknown joy awaits a moment away,
Forward is the time, without the wallow,
Take the guided hand that dances along the breeze,
For there is only a peace, and the loss will sway,
But the love within burns bright, a beauty left to stay.
03.11.2018
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
The lacquer, the tease, the crimp, of the hair
as we go out in style, mesh tops with flair
the motley choices of fashion pronounced
by the neon signs on our t-shirts no doubt.
Bobby socks and crop tops, spangled and bright,
all bangles and pearls to represent a Mardi Gras night.
The girls they did flock to the taverns in pairs,
to listen to the synthesised tunes that filled the air.
The boys, tight jeaned, and permed like a rock stars,
would enter in packs as though they were the masters,
sauntering through the ladies of lace,
one gloved with the charisma, yet held no grace.
The eighties were deemed a time out of place,
where anything goes, a retro space.
Defined by the music, the look now seems displaced,
yet there was fun and freedom when the eighties took place.
25/10/2018
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
First name
unique, generous, wondrous, enigmatic, hopeful
Sister of Madonna, Gail, Chris, Diane and Heather
Lover of life, puzzles, people's laughter and language
Who feels loves intensity with hope
Who fears the dark, enclosed spaces, yet feels fearless in the breeze
Who would like to see the masses succeed
Resident of home, a warm embrace, a tender touch
Surname
I found this structure boring and unimaginative and mundane in a world enriched with such flavoursome musings - I unapologetically ruined the form with pride and decided the words below were more entertaining for your reading pleasure... Enjoy me
An ounce of ratbag, a giggle, a bounce and slide,
she puts on her socks and polishes the floor with her moves,
the running dive onto the bed is never a question and she loves to sneak up and tickle.
Frosted grass, and a breaky sunrise eaten from the curb, delights her heart and inspires her mind.
Her one love - a child of impossibility - held on by hope; a chance to live, to laugh.
Intrigued by the landscape of colour, enlightened by touch, cleansed in a breeze.
A smile to light up the dark, delivers a truth profound, generous in love in all its forms.
A dancer in a world of statues, grounded and real, she will lift you up and hold you til your ready.
Musically, she paints the tragic world with grace, sensually depicting each space, raw and defined.
A family of separated ties has carved an independence so fierce she is rarely displaced.
Adopted by the masses, free in spirit she maintains faith, home is all she needs and finds that in many: a comfortable easy smile, a gift of coffee, an open door - embraced.
Loved.
A friendship gift, a unique beautiful ride, buckle up she's arrived...
17/10/2018
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
Success in my hand
The power and the glory
On top of the world
I am invincible; me
The little ones left
by the wayside without care
I take what I want
and to hell with their despair
for my life is mine
and I do not care for them
they raised me up high
and now there's no need of them.
their pitiful cries
as they ask for my help; no
they are beneath me
I'm on top of my game; go
they should work harder
for I have attained it all
their jealous actions
they can't wait to see me fall
And fall I did for...
I discarded my support
there was no one left
to encourage through nought
I was abandoned
and fury; my demeanour
for once I had all
but my loss is now keener
struggling to rise up
cannot bear to look, to start
reclusive I am
the world I knew fell apart
avoiding my life
as I sit in the darkness
squandering choices
hiding from my own smartness
and do nothing but
nothing for that catharsis
depression my friend
the filth it stacks up; a mess
I cannot clean it
the will has left, I have stress
no need to arise
There is no appointment set
lay here, die in shame
for a prouder time frames bet
energised to sloth
I have become the mundane
through lust; greed attained
I kept it all, unshared, vain
And wallow in self
My shame defined - reality
To those I have hurt
discarded and used, malady
I need you all now
If only you'd forgive me
but here I sit; spent
I'm denied all connections
and life passes by alone.
25/10/2018 - Edward Ibeh
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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Lifes' Tapestry Poem
That damn weekly times (circa 1900),
Afternoonified with Gigglemugs
sending me off my chump
Editors Half-rats, Not up to dick,
the meater.
Genderfied, I am
A woman of incredible script,
stylograph committed,
deemed a whooperup,
yet her prose is
umble-cum-stumble.
The longing expressed
through the lovers eye
poked-up the meater,
who Batty fanged my dyke
with his footle
His "Enthuzimuzzy"
was unwarranted
and the mutton shunters were called
Collie shangles erupted
yet concede he did
overcome with blue devils
He purchased my script
published it last page
like a Skilamalink
I cared and did not
for published I was
weekly times circa 1900
I bested the ragger
Rough translation - deceived
that damn weekly times editors
all snobbery and fake smiles
sent me crazy
The editors drunk, and unwell
he's a coward
I am a woman
a writer, a poet
committed to my craft
deemed inferior
yet my writings are
thoroughly understood
The topic in question
a female lovers romance
embarrassed the coward
who thoroughly thrashed my lover
with his nonsense
Ohh the insulting "enthusiasm"
was not necessary
the police I did call
heated arguments won the battle
and he apologised - albeit begrudgingly
His saddened state,
as he was forced
to take my manuscript
and publish it in the back
like some dirty secret.
Last page was bothersome
yet published I was
in the weekly times no doubt,
as I defeated that trouble making editor
Copyright © Lifes' Tapestry | Year Posted 2018
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