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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

To Show You My Love!

 

I’m in love with his song, poignant and beautiful!

 

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English: Wild Malus sieversii apple

Her painted smile leaks down into her neck

Running in lines down to her heaving bosom

Part laugh, but mostly wry self deprecating humor

It’s not everyday that she pauses to reflect, but when she does

She remembers being willing

Full of curiosity and joie de vivre

Now all the faces morph into sameness

Before they were special, when she could call them by name

Johnny, Billy, Reggie and Mackey.

There was a time when expectations ran high and she’d dreamed of the culmination of her business.

She didn’t mourn her squandered youth!

Why bother?

Her mother did up and leave her to fend for herself

On the cusp of womanhood, she had been shopped around.

Promising herself five years, the plan was to relocate somewhere afterwards

Far away from, the sanctimonious drivel of familiar creatures

Yearning had settled in her heart these last year’s though

For Johnny and innocence.

She regretted eating Eve’s poison.

 

By Joszann St. John

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Darby, sitting in the shade of some green vines.

While drinking Mulberry wine, 

Seedpods of Coral bead vine, or Gidee-Gidee

Strums his guitar.

If only Geraldine’s daughter

A damsel much sought after

Would walk by, he’d show her

Affection so divine.

He plays a song, singing a bit louder as he starts a tune,

Waxing eloquently, about her fair beauty.

She makes his blood roar like thunder

But the girl doesn’t share his fervor.

She hopes instead for , Prince Charming much older.

Ignoring him as she strolls in youthful splendor.

Proudly glowing, and full to bursting with honeyed praise.

Her indifference rankles, the doting dreamer.

Though his previous attempts at romance ended in disaster

For Darby, hope floats optimistic, bringing him closer to the object of his desire.

By Joszann St. John

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The thick green grass is bent in places

Footstep bruised/ and flattened

The moist smell of aromatic Earth escapes the ground

And seeps through the high reeds/ perfuming the atmosphere

There is another smell of human desperation redolent in the hushed air

Hunter and prey/ both unhappy and chomping at the bits

A dance as old as time

Man and dog, advance cautiously at first

The dog paws the damp soil

Sniffing the depression left behind by fleeing victim

Up ahead, Johnny knows capture is imminent

He can hear them hot on his heels, like Hell’s hounds

“Over there – in the thicket, quick!”

Old Johnny boy –

On the run since he was born

Freedom short-lived

Johnny says his last goodbye

Because he knows he is done for

Massa won’t give him no more chances, for sure.

 

By: Joszann St. John

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Woman in a rowing boat

Woman in a rowing boat (Photo credit: National Media Museum)

The cocoon of self wrapped tight

Cloaking the sleeping bud/ hiding out of sight

Some impetus/forces / agitates crisis

Of movement and change/no longer comfortable/slices

Through membranes, collapsing inward/dying to allow self/ to escape

Up and out/ full term/ sliding and scraped

 At first tentative/ peeping, cautious/ first steps/then bolder  

Sustained hunger/ now compelling satiety

Metamorphosis a reality

Rapidly changing structures/ transforming the newly minted canvas

Imagined perception/ crumbling/ it was supposed to be … but is total morass

Joszann St. John

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And she rides a white horse that thunders hard in the dark of night.

All the children snuggle tight in bed/hiding their heads in blankets and sheets.

Some between mother’s knees

On the blackest nights/when owls hoot and the hamlet lies still/ shrouded in whispers /of  fear beguiling.

They say she was a plantation owners wife/ of long ago and full of strife.

Spurned and lied to/ she took a knife/ her lover lived for a fortnight but she died

And became a blight/ her family never forgave.

It’s been generations/but she likes grand occasions

And so she comes/just before midnight/when celebration is in the atmosphere

Her horse galloping/ his nostrils flared/breathing hot air

And the hellion rides/ nary a care.

Announcing to all and sundry/ that she is still nutty as a hatter

Pride stamped on her haughty countenance

Weighty is her presence/long after she has departed.

By Joszann St. John

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(I saw this documentary some time ago.For some reason,I remembered it today.So I thought, why not write something hilarious? )

Broken bottles and barrels lying empty on the ground.

Chaos and mayhem all around

The monkeys are laughing like donkeys

As they cavort in the jungle

Bumping into each other/all over the place/ bungling

Some are fast asleep and just barely manage to keep themselves from falling/of tree branches

The moonshine wrest on consignment, only the consignees did not sell the product/some end up in trenches.

On the desert floor

Moonshine Bottle

Caveat emptor!

Every monkey for himself

Even the moon is confused/ asking questions/restless

Since when Monkeys began imbibing?

They not climbing?

I tell you its sheer madness.

By Joszann St. John

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