Words Much Like Poetry

Andromeda, Gustave Doré Part of the collection Dues for the Repose: From Words Much Like Poetry  by Wamuhu Mwaura "   Near Joppa, guarded by a monster of the Earthshaker’s lending , I left her chained without hope—for Perseus is long dead , abandoned to oblivion by the fickle beliefs of men —  " [ Kindle Edition for instant reading. ]

when love is lost and all is frost I clamor for most only to get tossed all color is lost the fire is doused the life of a ghost has me as its host is life to me closed? while sentiment was forced I knew I had lost my wants, as always, paused all around is frigid all taste is tepid my appetites turn arid everything tastes acrid am I paying for what I did? aye, 'tis the price of my misdeed a waver from my principles solid a turn to the sordid my desire unsorted I turn decrepid I abandon all that is avid and fall into this darkness so rabid

inception of untimed exactitudes borne of almost infinite unproximity brought soft lined shackling to me. the rhymed dance of bliss with similarities bore me to ignorant unrealities. the incompleteness of the matched severed the bond save an unravelling strand of patience. on the flagstone of my essence is etched the unsurity of destined interlocking of unlike keys. departure spanning moons shatters gathered bravado, false wholeness to a thousand shards. they cut deep into my inner substance driving me to the despair of a bereaved dove. I float in a never-ending story, bound to the suspense of unpredictability as I feed from the hand of fate. bound to the tether of sentiment, I circumscribe my limited world. my sustenance is limited to what is handed me and I cannot take more. in this keep I must tarry, till my keeper grants me the grace of favoured company.

day's end brings with it a silence that most nights remains broken only by words much like poetry and thought. into that lull I draw forth tableaux of times perhaps best left adrift on the troubled waters of auld lang syne. how viciously wounding though, the refusal of recollection, for at least in memory I can cherish you as once I did. and the inquietude of vast longing, frustration at time's lethargic pace, knows the kindest, though briefest, of stays.

tell me what is to be done with this half-heart, how to cope with Time while awaiting Destiny's verdict? will Destiny speak the words, words much like poetry, that will return me to you; words of potent conviction that will cause the ocean to fall away and no longer stand against me? I cannot fathom what possible offense I could have committed against the briny deep that it saw fit to punish me with its very expanse. I lay nightly upon the dwelling of my lonely stretch, my lonely patch of shore, contemplating my bruised portion... it aches where I tore us asunder. Image: Petr Kratochvil, Ocean sunset, Public Domain Pictures.net

i have traversed this beach for what seems eons, yet time upon time, what i seek to achieve always escapes me. i seek peace for my tortured soul, in the sound of the crashing waves, in the smell of the salt air, in the feel of the chill wind that whips against my weathered face. i walk now in an area close to, but not near, the water’s edge. my eyes scan the distant horizon, searching an elusive peace of mind in the sun’s reflection upon the blue-green surface of the ocean, walking on sand that bares much witness to my habitual walks, and those of others, as evidenced in the footprints that crater nigh the entire surface of the sand. a testimony of the pain of the world, perhaps? for a while longer, my steady gait gains me silent ground, the crashing waves and the seagulls and such that fly by my only companions. then, i hear them, moments before i see them, a young couple deep in heated debate, the battle waged a fierce one, words their tools and pain their weapons. i slow my already ...

as it falls, so will I as it falls, I will stumble as it falls, so will tears as it falls, I can no longer be comforted it is dark, I have lost my way it is dark, did I willingly give myself? it is dark, it swallows my heart it is dark, I grope for light with desperation the thunder sings to my soul and the lightning rhymes with the storm in my mind the grey skies haunt the depths of mine heart sorrow drives me to a place long ago past I long for it to wash away my tribulations its hum to calm my wounded spirit its hush to whisper comfort in my ear its coldness to cool my boiling mind I grope at forgotten comforts frivolous abandonment of exploits past memories of liberating laughter simple comfort of friendly chatter I am unsteady, the earth yields I fall, it betrays me over again it suffocates me sadistically and snatches my warm comfort in its flood suddenly, I long for the torrents to sweep me away from myself carry me to a place of reprieve wrench my soul from this aching husk

he walks the empty filled streets, hearing only the echo of his footsteps amid the thunder of a thousand walks. there exists only himself, haunted by a deep loneliness. an empty heartbeat is his only companion. it has been a year since sadness befell him, and the magic of the enchanted stirred within. how can days be so empty, yet teeming with life? oh how the halls echo in his empty cry. her image haunts him, and agony halts his step, heavy and daunting. she is his destiny, and she denied him he cannot have another, her place can never be filled when will this road paved with pain ever end? the hopes within have withered, there stands only a weeping willow amidst.the future only reveals darkness, he sees not a minute to it.the shadows play pranks creeping about, shaping her ghoulish figure. the air of fairy wood paints her vividly in his mind. he longs for his tribulations to empty forth in a flood, but not even a trickle will oblige him.the coffers of the weeping will offer ...

there are places within myself I no longer go, dark, murk filled bogs waiting to sink me in old miseries old, not new those that are new rise before me desert dunes the height of Everest feet grasping, never let go sand hills...