Image – Page 72 – Image & Verse

Pantoumadness

Pantoumadness

writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends
my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
this cannot be the horror my muse intends
if blood it wants I willingly concede

my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
if blood it wants I willingly concede
this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end

if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end
my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds

frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
muse tell me – did the poet God’s I offend
my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds
a hopelessness inside me does distend

oh tell me please – did the poet God’s I offend
this cannot be the horror my muse intends
a hopelessness inside me does distend
yes, writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends

~ ~ ~

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Links to my other 3 Pantoums:
1.) Seabed Sway
2.) Flame Of Learning
3.) Lady Blue

Click below to read more Pantoums at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Pantoum

Mercy Cup

Mercy Cup

forgive my scorching insults
that bite and sting
where they sizzle still
blistering my careless tongue
charred by regret

would that you allow me
a sip from your mercy cup
to sooth the searing pain
of bitter words
which should never have been spoken

~ ~ ~

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Click here to discover blame & forgiveness at dVerse:

Blame and Forgiveness

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Quadrille #74

My Old Red Chair

This was written in my beloved old red chair.

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My Old Red Chair

sun sits low on the winter horizon
the coming night soon will stir
I sit quietly in my old red chair
with warm memories gathered ’round me

forward through the years they’ve come
memories of those I’ve been well to know
been blessed to love, and who’ve loved me
for those now gone beyond – a tender tear

my heart is full, my spirit calm, my life is sweet
I surrender to another year in fate’s embrace
I am grateful for my life, never sought perfection
I have been given so very much for so very long

the sun that rises golden to warm the day
the breeze that wafts soft upon my face
mountains that rise majestic, covered in old growth
the rivers, the lakes, the clear mountain streams

the teeming nature and vital plants
so plentiful on this beautiful earth
my precious children and grandchild
the miraculous moments of their birth

I have felt the power of the mighty ocean
breaking on the boulders ‘neath rugged western cliffs
watched the sun set, coral and golden, into the azure sea
had the love of a wife, and family, to share this all with me

would this evening’s reverie never end
but soon the lingering day will bow its head
as twilight fades I’ll watch this night descend
at 72 – grateful where my life has led

~ ~ ~

”My actual old red chair.”

To enjoy some fine poetry at dVerse, click below:

Ah sweet youth . . .

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This is a poem of genuine thankfulness. I turned 72-years-old on February 18th. This is a birthday I am exceedingly lucky and tremendously grateful to have ever reached. I am a male brittle diabetic, average life expectancy, 66 years. My heart also failed in April of 2017. Fortunately I was in the hospital recovering from an angioplasty operation. I am now alive, the result of emergency implantation of a Medtronic Pacemaker. So this is definitely a happy birthday – happy beyond measure. Please permit me to share my deep feelings of gratitude in this poem.

Farther Beyond

Farther Beyond

shadows nod in this dark’ning room
stain silken curtains soaked with gloom
ghosts of our love taunt – nevermore
chained by grief in this gilded tomb

sorrowful darkness does descend
the hands of chilling grief extend
forever’s knocking at the door
losing you I can’t comprehend

I’m drowning in my bitter tears
I am consumed by my worst fears
my soul is broken evermore
as my life’s meaning disappears

barter and pleading stain my lips
slip through my clutching fingertips
scatter useless across the floor
farther beyond your frail life slips

I’m shattered to my very core
it is for mercy I implore
let me delay that open door
to kiss your tender lips once more

~ ~ ~

This is an expanded and revised version of my poem “Far Beyond”. To further increase the imagery in the piece, an additional stanza was added to open the poem, and other minor revisions made. I still wanted there to be believable grief and sorrow, and bargaining – everything that would be a normal part of a deep love relationship when one of the partners departs this earth. At the same time, in the midst of grief, I wanted tenderness. He is distraught, but madly in love still – as he has been for years. This not an easy good bye. I chose the image of the dying rose, because even in its death it holds firmly to that which made it beautiful in life. Just as he tries to hold on to what was beautiful in their relationship. Bitter-sweet!

This poem is 8 syllables per line, exnctly the same as Robert Frost’s “Stopping By A Woods On A Snowy Evening”. The rhyme pattern to my piece here is: AABA CCBC DDBD EEBE BBBB

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Click here to read Original version of this rubaiyat

Click here to read my “light filled” rubaiyat

Check out more great poems at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Rubaiyat

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Just for fun, I took all the “B” rhyme lines from the poem above, and made a separate poem. Interesting!?

Once More

ghosts of our love taunt – nevermore
forever’s knocking at the door
my soul is broken evermore
scattered useless across the floor
I’m shattered to my very core
it is for mercy I implore
let me delay that open door
to kiss your tender lips once more

~ ~ ~

DAY 18

Gone Before I Left

Gone Before I Left

I now move in the world unseen
I am transparent
a fading glimpse
caught in the darkened corner
of an ever dimming eye

where once I blocked the sun
I am but a shadow
moving between shadows
at the edge of light
without form

once a voice
that thundered ‘cross the distance
gripped every ear to listen
in so doing was well heard
now hardly but a whisper

my footsteps
shook the ground in passing
now leave but faint a trace
barely form and then are gone
as if I’ve never been

yet here I am
worn thin and weary
not strength to hold the hands of time
not sound to bid a fair goodbye
quickly disappearing

dissolving into the dust of age
gone before I’ve left

~ ~ ~

“Comment on western society’s diminishment of their elders.”

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Check out more invisibility at dVerse:

Poetics: Invisible

Burglar Moon

as I lie
alone
in the dead of night

burglar moon at the window
having stolen the colors of this day

the world chill and quiet

I wonder
how thin the veil
between here and gone

and what will be the final breath
the beckoning breeze
the courier gust
to part that curtain
allowing burglar moon
to lift me
shed of mortal husk
and carry me through

to where
to what
I do not know

only that the day
the hour
the moment
of that theft
draws ever closer

as I lie
alone
in the dead of night

~ ~ ~

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Check out more shedding at dVerse:

Shed some light on this today!

Morning Magic

Morning Magic

the dew drips golden in this place
wraps trees in crystaline embrace
as this Spring day breaks rich and chilled
the morning sun ignites your face

you approach cloaked in this sunrise
beneath a sky blue as your eyes
my spirit sings my heart is thrilled
your beauty leaves me hypnotized

bird songs carry on freshened breeze
flowers wake to the kiss of bees
my cup of bliss this moment filled
this magic brings me to my knees

I feel each day my true love build
quite certain by the gods it’s willed
this golden morn sweet tears are spilled
so thankful for these dreams fulfilled

~ ~ ~

This poem is 8 syllables per line, exactly the same as Robert Frost’s “Stopping By A Woods On A Snowy Evening”. The rhyme pattern to my piece here is: AABA CCBC DDBD BBBB

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Click here to read my “darker” rubaiyat

Click here to read a second one of my “darker” rubaiyat

Check out more great poems at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Rubaiyat

Far Beyond

sorrowful darkness does descend
the hands of chilling grief extend
your forever knocks at the door
losing you I can’t comprehend

I’m drowning in my bitter tears
I am consumed by my worst fears
my soul is broken evermore
as my life’s meaning disappears

barter and pleading stain my lips
slip through my clutching fingertips
scatter useless across the floor
as far beyond your frail life slips

I’m shattered to my very core
it is for mercy I implore
let me delay that open door
to kiss your tender lips once more

~ ~ ~

I wanted there to be believable grief and sorrow, and bargaining – everything that would be a normal part of a deep love relationship when one of the partners departs this earth. At the same time, in the midst of grief, I wanted tenderness. He is distraught, but madly in love still – as he has been for years. This not an easy good bye. I chose the image of the dying rose, because even in its death it holds firmly to that which made it beautiful in life. Just as he tries to hold on to what was beautiful in their relationship. Bitter-sweet!

This poem is 8 syllables per line, exnctly the same as Robert Frost’s “Stopping By A Woods On A Snowy Evening”. The rhyme pattern to my piece here is: AABA CCBC DDBD BBBB

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Click here to read my “light filled” rubaiyat

Click here to read a variation of this rubaiyat

Check out more great poems at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Rubaiyat

Consternated

Consternated

~
wee hours
with the sane asleep
I’m steeped in consternation
no inspiration

my thoughts vague
I’m filled with doubt
caught in merciless hesitation
words tossed about
the unyielding page

fickle muse please
a spark
to light this dark
that grips me like a cage

~ ~ ~

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Check out more Quadrilles at dVerse:

Quadrille #72

Wisdom Of The Ancients

sculpture by: Rose “Bean” Simpson

Wisdom of the Ancients

here
in this earthen abode
the voices of your elders
rose with the night fire
a sacred chant in rich voice
as the flames roared
and they danced

a hallowed blaze
of enlightenment

warming you
with the knowledge
of the ancestors

but the footsteps
are but echos
while the sacred fire
is dying

its embers
now near ashen
but still the heart’s aglow

in a world out of balance
who will again stir to flame
their smoldering wisdom
and dance the steps of knowledge

~ ~ ~

comment on the modern human’s loss of balance with the natural world

Love Joy

Love Joy

forgive me for craving intoxicating sips
blame the sweet nectar of your tender lips
as I dance your flesh with eager fingertips

stir your soul with passionate tongue whips
while painting your thighs in sensuous nips
until caught in ecstasy – your love joy drips

~ ~ ~

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Click here to discover blame & forgiveness at dVerse:

Blame and Forgiveness

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Quadrille #74

Of My Own Flesh

It was a pleasure writing for many years, inspired by the visual prompts at both “Magpie Tales” and “Writer’s Island”. Both are gone now several years. I am thrilled to have now found Hélène Vaillant’s Willow Poetry! This is my first, of what will be regular responses to her wonderful weekly visuals.

Of My Own Flesh

as I cautiously round the bend
and pass beyond the icy knoll
I catch my first sight of it
the cursed final destination
of my long treacherous journey
the castle of Zwénne the Lesser
once my home, now foreign to me

this castle is most ominous
since becoming Overlord of the Realm
Zwénne has rejected our father’s example
no celebration resounds the greatrooms
no joy warms the hallways, or towers
this long proud and mighty old structure
now a soulless abode of dark magic

it has become cold and foreboding
and rumored most dangerous
even deadly for those that dare enter
but I know they are not just rumors
there is undoubtedly a murderous evil
that dwells within its walls
undead and otherworldly evil

since conjuring the spirit
of Döxys, the blood beast
and having been thus possessed
Zwénne has become bloodthirsty
mindlessly violent and cruel
now a ruthless predator
whom I have come to slay

would that this task were not mine
but I have been charged herewith
by the supreme council of wizards
Zwénne is my fallen elder brother
and by decree, under this 3rd moon
in the presence of his perverse court
by my hand alone, he must die

no turning back now, this must be done
and I must do it, but I am terrified
I hesitate at the heavy castle door
attempting to gain much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat, steady my breathing
I lift the iron latch, the lock clicks
the massive door unseats inwardly

this is it, fate has dealt the cards
I am both prisoner and executioner
trapped hopelessly in this horrible plot
I search my soul to find the courage
to take the life of my own flesh & blood
I swing the door open ever so gradually
eyes darting, mind racing, heart pounding

I step in…

~ ~ ~

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Click below here to read more poetry on Willow Poetry:
https://helenevaillant.com/2019/02/26/10678/

DAY 13

Zak the Protector

“In the spirit of video games I wrote a fantasy fable poem. For further fun I used every game name that Sarah posted, and in the exact order she posted them. Hope you like this.”

Zak the Protector

the mysterious lady
in the dark red dress
fully intended to burrow
into my immortal soul
some kind of hellish mine craft

she was a daughter of diablo
she was so very young
but definitely about to blossom
blasting off to planet gorgeous
but this beauty was deadly

she swooped into my life
as might some space invaders
swift powerful and cunning
true to her vowed assassin’s creed
she was sworn to be the ruin of me

tempting me with her honey mine
and I certainly considered it
luscious as it promised to be
but I was fully alert to her scheme
my senses on overwatch

I was acutely hyper-vigilant
the portal to my soul
would not fall open to her
she would not be my doom
I knew her dark agenda

It was foretold in the elder scrolls
but her tantilizing voice was seductive
words rolled from her supple lips
sugar sweet as enchanted candy
crushing the will of the weak

but I would not be lost
not drawn helplessly intoxicated
into her heady myst of lies
my destiny was to defeat this devil
to denounce her evil unreal fantasies

I am Zak – protector of this safe space
warning all harboring dark intent
to steer clear of this sacred realm
trespassers will feel my power quake
like a vengeful angered god of war

my torchlight of blessed welcome
burns always for the pure of heart
but I will drive the dark souls
back down the stoney path of exile
lost into the pit of the damned

~ ~ ~

Playing games at dVerse…

Games night!

Click here to read my post to the dVerse prompt: THE KISS

Bones Of Rivers

Bones Of Rivers

the bones
of natural rivers
destroyed

stained
with the ghosts
of salmon

harbingers
of human disregard
for nature

~ ~ ~

This poem is inspired by the destruction Pacific Northwest Hydroelectric companies are doing to the regions rivers, and the populations of native fish!

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Click here to discover more harbingers at dVerse.

Harbinger

Hedone’s Daughter

Steeply Steeply

Steeply Steeply

steeply steeply
true love hovers steeply
high overhead
the lover’s climb
it’s said

it’s rewarding frustration
full of emotion
at times exasperation
mostly devotion

the climb can have distraction
sometimes lack satisfaction
leave one hanging in air
yet committed to share
love’s ellusive heart

~ ~ ~

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Quadrille #72

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