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Feb 28 · 158
unchained pain
pain with no script
subterranean roar
pressing call
pushing through
unkempt wasteland

places we don't see
lest they confront
status quo
hidden from all
but the sharp

as echoes we meet
find the persona
sear like another
stinging coal
on splintered frame

bent from carrying
shadows
cast on the
lake of fire's
unceasing scourge
a moment of depression breaking through, before a lighter time arrives... perhaps some may identify with its powerful pull
so if we
stand still
smell the heat

of an enemy's
bullet through our veins
for once

court outcome
of supplanting views
imbibing another's sweat

casuist's bile
scrawled on prison walls
of savaged confines

they salute
their spiel
with the same

toxic hold
as we concoct
world views

venomous elixir
polymorphous maze
shadow of a sphinx

looms clearer
as steps leading
to torn pages

of feted book
uncover dichotomy
of a self split

so that shooting a child
of shunned genes
amounts to nil

for in but a blink
his uniform
arrives home

to ****** the
golden locks
of his only daughter

playing Chopin
Please see subsequent post 'dynamics of genocide'
penned as a bit of free expression,
more a rant than a poem,
but can provide some
background information to this poem.
I very much appreciate your thoughts and feedback
on either or both posts.
Big thanks...
let me rant awhile
for what good it may do
to open the valve
if only briefly

for as one wave
after another
of sheer indignity
is reported

survivor guilt
courses through me
yet even this
was not mine to choose

for I don't happen to
have been born
Jewish
or black -

and that doesn't make me
more -
or less -
worthy of dignity

but I can observe closely
what it is like
to be pilloried
and persecuted

for one's peaceful contacts
and communications
holding personal beliefs
at odds with a regime

and a rage
courses through me
on contemplating
'man's inhumanity to man' -

though written long ago
that the world would be so,
where hatred would replace
kindness, love, empathy

I deplore the way
an ideology
of one disturbed,
possessed person

can lead to millions
donning a uniform,
henceforth labelling
one sector of humankind

'persona non grata'

to be mercilessly pursued
in legitimized genocide,
even savaging
little children

frightened lads
caught on the run
made to hold arms
for food

mamas with babes in arms
forced to watch them
dashed to pieces
then buried alive underground

their infant cries still heard
while their mothers were ***** -
as beleaguered, beautiful Estonia
was brought to it's knees...

and I weep and rant
feel knives in my gut
blood pulsing swift -
then take hold of myself

seek to understand,
if that be possible,
even a smidgen
of such distorted thinking

to delve into the mind
of a hateful deviate
for but a moment
and remain intact

so I scan his written mantra
and come to see that
all deeply held convictions
must have at its core

RESPECT

lest it attract the weak
and easily led,
or those forced into submission
seeking to simply stay alive

and they find themselves
taking part
in a forest fire
of polluted propaganda

a flood of merciless
devastation,
while their deluded leader
continues to spout forth venom

in the distorted notion
that they would actually
be acting in society's
best interests

or worse still:
'in the name of God'
(Acts 5:39;
Hosea 4:1-3)
This post was initially placed
at the end of my previous poem,
'mandated thuggery,'
but became so lengthy,
that though not my usual,
tightly honed offering,
I felt it may resonate
with some poets here on hp,
hence I gave it space
as a post in its own right.

You may wish to see my previous post
a poem that was based on these thoughts

I deeply appreciate your sharing
what you feel on reading
either or both of these posts
Many thanks
Eleanor
Feb 8 · 378
TRAINED TO STRIKE
ever standing
body lithe, strong
trained to strike

too dashing for peeling paint
old verandas
slow-paced hamlet

waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub

how does his tale read
did he pay
for assault

struck the frame
holder of *****
spawning breath

cold fury
for scenes of his mother
thrown down

stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival

panther muscles
no more the crouching lad
shuddering

her screams
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps

broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
forage into
fictional possibility -
penned
with deep respect
for David
of village
post office
Jan 21 · 505
Primordial Roar
when scenes
pixelate
halt in a cell's
frozen scream
slow-motion rage
cloaks grief

do earth's plates
shift at all
respond to pain
torn out of shape
in savage roar

no

we matter to ourselves
on some days
while he or she
reads the code
to check the tides

oscillate in
crawl space
hidden
in island habitat's
darkened cave

we try to breathe
solitary venture
as days run out
leaving dust
and bones

in silence

as a new
dawn
rises
when depression's dark dirge speaks... may we find a way to wait for a new dawn
Jan 18 · 360
Paradise Lost?
no ripple
on glistening pond
bucolic greenery
greeted sweet mornings
like apple muffins
dusted with
spice

pathways through
rainforest's half-light
hushed cathedral
birdsong rang true
retrieved to senses
a lilting lullaby's melodic
notes

then machinery
of life's happenchance
seared through undergrowth
chainsaw's presence
halted paradise
lacerations on earth's
lungs

reverberations hit
tremors appear
reach beyond
borders coddled close
as things find a new
place to roost and
grow
sometimes things change perhaps somewhat unexpectedly -  a relationship experiences a different phase, needs are not being met the way they once were, someone close to us moves far away, a sweet friendship can suffer an unanticipated wound - whatever the loss, there can be regret and it can feel like much of value has been lost, yet at times it can lead to certain insights and more...
Dec 2018 · 309
lips p a u s e . . .
eleanor prince Dec 2018
he begets
fullness
of a tremor

steals a
touch
then it's lost

dew on blooms
gleam
dissolve

focused
vibration
passes

lips pause
barest
trace

kiss of
warm breeze
on still day

more sought
courted
met

frenzied tension
slowly rising
heralds

smiling dance
cells in naïve
cacophony
Dec 2018 · 792
u n t i e d ~ ~ ~
eleanor prince Dec 2018
look not beneath
scars
lest night scowl

for history
screamed
breaches unbidden

rivulets red streamed
as child song
failed

tendrils grasped
by savage gusts
discarded

to rise as scented spring
warmth
loosens coverlets

stirred
untied
waiting
would a tender, respectful approach let love bloom anew
Dec 2018 · 234
A 'merry' lass?
eleanor prince Dec 2018
She...

revelrous without
the alibi
of Christmas

many join in
swiftly slicing shadows
from looming skyscrapers

few see beneath
the ****** of mirth
children sob within

partners in crime
with adult eyes
destined to stare

at arid landscapes
removed from life's
scorpion bite
somewhat inspired by a recent poem by Lydia XIII 'Intentional' - many a bright and breezy stance belies much torment within
Dec 2018 · 1.4k
'Xmas tales
eleanor prince Dec 2018
I see the boy's eyes
puckered
destroyed
he can't grasp
how is this
so?

on balance
tales and
lies do
for the spark of
a yarn's
pull?

or are the child's
ties torn
the parent's
solidity broken
his rock
in a world

shaken?
an uncomfortable reality...
Dec 2018 · 443
reprieve
eleanor prince Dec 2018
blooms sweet
rains savage
decayed mush
remnants

earth's alarm
cycles hard
hands damage
unhinged

bind thugs
stifle stench
embrace Maker
reprieve
experimenting with succinct verses... constructive critiques welcome!
Oct 2018 · 547
I see you still
eleanor prince Oct 2018
I see us now
not sounding depth
of oceans found
we sailed on
seeking sun

with osprey wings
we'd soar on high
above the dross
all left
behind

Remember how
we laughed and cried
no day expired
without
a hug

but waves delete
all fire shared
aboard life's deck
washed memories
overboard

I turn the page
old letters worn
once filled with
kisses sweet
now still

in ears stopped up
they speak and roar
for years have
passed and youth
has fled

no passage found
I'm left afloat
my breath is hoarse
I whisper pained:

I see you still
Coming across some old letters and cards these thoughts emerged...
Oct 2018 · 492
One perfect muse?
eleanor prince Oct 2018
Where are you
my one perfect muse
the shape of contours
conjured in dreams
held since bud was formed

Where do you rest
waiting
like me for that
eclipse
of moments

Where?!

Are you even
embraced in capsule
light
weightless
located in One

Or are you diverse
scattered like seed on
winds unknown
beyond my reach
as I wonder

Where?!

Is it pointless to conceive
of your fullness
knowing deep down
you exist only in
poetry of disenchanted idealists

Newly formed realists
whose life work
lies smashed
pointless journey
reaching reality

Or will I glimpse you
in passing crowd
ephemeral but
sharply cut out
from all the rest?
(If not 'muse' then boss, friend, partner... )
Oct 2018 · 410
In the night watches
eleanor prince Oct 2018
In the night watches
I avoid you

no point in
tearing flesh

for rivers to
burst through

rudely scorning
torn pages

of some old book
clutched to

dreams not yet smashed
on rocks of adulthood

avoided in the night watches
lest the dark becomes

intolerable
Sep 2018 · 818
caught out
eleanor prince Sep 2018
it's weird the things that
pester your mind
just when you thought you had
it all sewn up...

you tell yourself you are this
generous and big-hearted person
well maybe
on some days

and then you remember the kid
in fifth grade that rushed up
asked for a five pence loan
was all I had left

but I did it, didn't I
believed her
that she'd pay it back
in the morrow for sure

but she wasn't at school
the next or the next
and I'm still inanely
mad at her

and at myself
as she knew
she was moving
the very next day

and man was I
miffed
but you know I
couldn't give tuppence

about the coin -no
'twas the principle
of the matter
wasn't it

she knew she
would never
pay it back
so why lie

I would have given her
way more
had I known it was
her last day
Just an off the cuff poem. Inspiration came from reading a poem just now by Natalie:  https://hellopoetry.com/nataliestilescarmona/
where I left this comment:  You are indeed worthy of being called a muse of sorts for my head is rattling around with all kinds of possibilities - but the little ping pong ***** haven't formulated into much in the way of sentences yet - but it is coming - yes, I think something is emerging. Bit longer than I expected so will post it as a poem and give you the credit for the inspiration - lol
Sep 2018 · 5.8k
THE MIRROR MAN SEES
eleanor prince Sep 2018
(contains references to sensitive issues)

She’s just a babe
he’s only two
of youth refill
they’re broken in

but leave no mark  
so they're unspoiled
for clients booked
it's all arranged

no tracks you'll leave
their brain's not through
not 'til they’re three
so chill out dame

the program works
divert impel
‘'you crazy sh-t
here take this pill’

nobody hears
if told some tales
but they won't talk
their lips are sealed

from dot they’re trained
they’re here for us
don't have to guess
‘you talk, you die!’

so pay the fee
their price is high
and bring this dog
they’ll do it all

and shouldn’t you
take all you're due
you work real hard-
on nectar sup
-
Stop! Not so quick
for veils can lift
and imprints made
don’t ever die

archival facts
reveal themselves
when day arrives
you’ll face the Judge

and when you breach
a petal new
it injures both
and gear stick shifts

you've soiled life's bed
with squalid stains
now own the Sh-t
says mirror man







  


             
From time to time an instance comes to light involving well-organized abuse at an almost unimaginable level.  Children from a very young age are trained to provide all manner of ****** services to meet the demands of deviant and sadistic clients.  Contrary to what people may think, this happens not just in so-called 'third-world countries,' but in more prosperous lands too.  

Even where there is significant corroboration for the veracity of such accounts, survivors can suffer the further indignity of not being believed.  There is some movement and improvement in knowledge but more needs to be acknowledged and understood, not only by colleagues and other professionals providing care, but society at large.  

It all makes one ponder what leads a perpetrator to act this way.  Whilst it helps to understand some act out trauma they themselves received, it is unacceptable behaviour, is still a criminal offence - and it hurts others.   We all have choice to decide ahead what we would do if offered an easy way to cross that line.  Decency requires we resolve to remember who we want to be in essence and retain this reality check:  how would I feel if this was my wife, my child?   Refuse to abuse another.  

Some boundaries simply should never be breached, even if one is promised immunity from repercussions, e.g. told 'the child won't remember – it won’t hurt them.'   Many victims do remember and either way, such incursions rob them of a normal life, something many take for granted.  The truth is they are massively, negatively affected on one level or another, often in multiple ways, at whatever age such incursions take place.  

The reality is that transgressing on another's boundaries on any level not only harms the recipient but also those violating others.  It alters and destroys something in the offender, immediately recognizable or not, and by extension the wider community is affected.  

On looking in the mirror an offender may see at best a deluded half-life.  As my poem concludes, who would want to be meeting that inner witness to their corrupt and heartless behaviour, their real character looking back at them through the 'man* in the mirror...'

*(either gender can offend - some women sexually abuse too.  When a perpetrator takes a good look in the mirror of reality, they may well find themselves  confronted with the enormity of what they have done, and who they have become)
Aug 2018 · 3.8k
A Stilted Blindness
eleanor prince Aug 2018
once more
layers of casing
are torn

papers culled
windows gleam
sheets smile

the cost is high
if not see
when to stop

can I find north
after all
I’d asked

so life’s paths
once veiled
in yesterday's grime

dispatched
to the winds
reveal

another vision
refreshing as
spring rain

seeking every fissure
quietly lodged boarders
not paying rent

evicted
as another corner
begs mastery

along with
a neater place
it dawns on me

atrophy
is the order
of things

vacate for a few
short paces
and face

it all again
wrenching me
from the lulling

status quo
of my stilted
blindness
sometimes when we ask for greater clarity in life, to be able to 'see' things at a more profound breadth and depth, a cleansing of sorts emerges on every level
Aug 2018 · 436
take command!
eleanor prince Aug 2018
fireball burst
searing
probity

clenched coil
bleeds purple
rabid rage

fists itch
sue for
strike

temple warden
glares strained
calls culled

rampant riot
bristles broken
fervid

all exits
blocked tight
stifled screams

fade as winds
of sense
take command
the interplay of internal forces as one grapples with strong emotions like rage
Aug 2018 · 1.9k
take charge
eleanor prince Aug 2018
windmills turn
slicing days
as prescribed

moving water
as they do
set troughs

can't complain
there is no point
cycles set in place

grids buckle
like we're
trapped

live chequered lives
without ourselves
on deck

though paths
with every step
trod blind

at close of day
did we not take
that road

for steering wheel
this hand
grabbed

let's harness Self
remove the screen
and see

in this precinct
or yonder place
we've opted for

we took a route
with outcome
flawed
so often it seems easier to remain the victim - we aren't really seeing we are ultimately responsible for what we think and do
Jul 2018 · 9.7k
blind spot
eleanor prince Jul 2018
mementos
richly held
hidden in
fractured chest

big people
shifting boxes
heavy
light

silenced
a child's fissure
clasping favourite shell
close

swift salvage
in tight world
rescue from
gaping hole




#family #disruption #moving #treasures #mementos #lost #ignored
For a very young child, moving house can be incredibly bewildering, disruptive, even traumatizing, especially when moving countries tends to mean belongings need to be severely curtailed.  Few remember their own childhood attachments, closely held treasures, even if perceived by harried adults as inconsequential as a bag of broken seashells.  Would a little more listening and empathic explanation with kindness ease things well at such transition times
Jun 2018 · 474
phantom sighting
eleanor prince Jun 2018
I'd see that face that savaged nights
Picasso’s artful effigy scowls
on plate glass windows
high rise grimaces
mock

Is this for real, for he's sailed on
beyond deep seas to places wild
do clouds stoop down to part
stop searching vapid
drive

Or is this his iconic stride
dark overcoat pulled high
winds snatching imprints
left behind in harried
haste
sometimes in a crowd a face is seen that stirs remembering - not always in a good way
Jun 2018 · 1.6k
stir without words
eleanor prince Jun 2018
all monsters and adrenaline now
mad rush to inhale speed
lest life not deliver

yet in bygone days
when dames beguiled
soft curls and porcelain skin

or polished ebony
an ancient fire stirred
in embers aflame

men knew chivalry
their gender sure
dames held a different power

liquid eyes and innocent air
where no words were needed
to touch dreams' *******
Inspired by Christopher Victor Russon's nostalgic poem 'Those Talking Pictures'
May 2018 · 420
what's it all about... ?
eleanor prince May 2018
same sketch
cloned day
sundown station
schema

office workers
signed off
shuffle
numb

curbed chaos
train clatter
shifting gears
clashing sound

noise assaults
savaged senses
lulls into
stupor's rhythm

cardboard sentinels
stare blind
frames fixed on
blanched orbits

disjointed huddle
inciting life's
vapid
echo
scenes from an urban station at rush-hour...
May 2018 · 428
repurchase
eleanor prince May 2018
waves orchestrate
bruised kisses
smack

dazed moon’s
beclouded stare
numb

teal canopy’s
torn sinew
strewn

tidal riposte
homeless debris
scars

shattered fins’
bullied silence
screams        

callous world      
spawns grinding
vice

rabid avarice
fuels dueling
drive

winds stir
shifting sands
gasp

light eclipses
night’s capricious
rule

noon darkness
steep ransom’s
paid

earth salvaged
true Son
stands
a lonely shore on a tempestuous night had these thoughts come to mind about the state of the world and the high price paid for mankind's redemption - (Matt 20:28 Christ gave his life as a ransom for many; Matt 27:45 darkness at noon for 3 hours as payment for humanity is made)
Apr 2018 · 7.9k
what is a poet
eleanor prince Apr 2018
what is a poet
but a stymied wind
stamping the same soil
seen through polished lens

firing the bugle sound
to reach across some
distant mountain pass
not echo the same

ignite fire
stand strong
find north
refresh

for old paths yield
grey packages
more stale
subterfuge

but honed
solidity is found
in structures
built sound

a new song of old notes
rearranged to yield
perspective
deep
at times we all need to see what is to be kept and what will be discarded, to reinvent ourselves, our lives, whilst retaining solid ground
Apr 2018 · 481
Wake Up!
eleanor prince Apr 2018
raw
rage
earth’s cougar call
in dead of night

screams
scorch
each silenced child’s
forgotten plight

wake up!

globe
spins
recurring beat
as rifle shot

sears
space
collective pain
in pointless plot

wake up!

slaves
sob
for who will hear
take up their plight

dread
seeps
through tortured land
for few do right

wake up!
reached a moment of saturation with seeing few good people stand up and be counted on the side of sheer decency - (no one does good - Rom 3:10-17; those ruining will be brought to ruin - Rev 11:18)
Mar 2018 · 410
take heart
eleanor prince Mar 2018
some days suffuse
with dirtied grey
scream through
stain of shrapnel's
gaudy glint

for though each year
may roll on by
like so much dice
cast rashly down
in reckless haste

and tensions build
in East and West
North and South
from Sea to Earth
on worn-out board

we need not fear
for garments tattered
stained and torn
are merely coats
and we are safe

within the folds
of One who cares
in pinions' lift
we can rejoice
remain unbowed

though we dread
a final strike
if breath is taken
on this flight
take heart

for true One knows
does see it all
has limits sure
for what takes place
at curtain call

as mankind's
freed through
hard-paid Gift
a price so steep
his Son bled true

so all who mourn
their stolen days
regale earth's plight
with aching sigh -
might breathe

stand tall with
upturned faces see
time's running out
for Puppeteers
all sordid stench

and soon eternal
peace will come
not just within
but everywhere
relief

take heart
Penned in deepest respect for the greatest gift ever given mankind some 2,000 yrs ago... May we remember what the Living God has given - an opportunity of life to all who wish to avail themselves of it - Col 1:13,14; Ps 103:2
Mar 2018 · 536
- an ill wind -
eleanor prince Mar 2018
where do you hide
when sunshine days smile
sweet

perfumed blooms sing life
without tyrant's
scowl

let me find cloaked lair
destroy ensconced
seed

lest blossoms sigh sullied
as dirge of darkness
stirs
some of you may know depression
Feb 2018 · 360
this thing called 'life'
eleanor prince Feb 2018
this thing
called ‘life’
patchwork of
frailty

from robust seed
seared limp
through vagaries of
heat

seeking salience
as globe revolves
even without
us

days silken smooth
dangle sweet
stolen by capricious
winds

mattering's refused
recycling worn tapes
peanut gallery
within

judge self as abandoned
in Father’s absence
his character
slurred

deaf to lessons
as winter’s early
dusk and darkness
descends

solitary friend’s
presence
suspends in night
sky

song of bloom
pierces snow
Maker's voice is
heard
Jan 2018 · 671
- tales we tell ourselves -
eleanor prince Jan 2018
eye of storm
feels good
inanely safe

cloak of unreality
supplanting sense
as trap shuts

butterfly hovers
gently
in silken web

rests stupidly
charmed
while harm beckons

illusions numb
cerebral
space

battle weary
instincts spent
on long haul

gusts of
warning winds
ignored

as incongruent
aberrations
unworthy of note

but sword will drop
mayhem eclipse
former state

past suspension
truncated
exposed

as raw reality
severs dreams
barnacled

to beguiling
specious
notion
beware the weariness that eclipses knowing... and reason... it will exact a price
Sep 2017 · 1.2k
with veil drawn
eleanor prince Sep 2017
do you think
cloaks of normalcy

societal smiles
wash away reality -

that screens pulled close
pious veils drawn

means all is well -

that children next door
from 'respectable' homes

aren't used like so much spoil
displayed with polish

to the highest bidder -

what tales do you keep
to sleep at night

in perfumed air -

'it's far away
some hapless child

not where I drive
with tinted glass

they're lower class
don't know the Lord

mere runts down town
where father drinks

can't pay their rent
make decent wage

so sell the kid
for sordid nights -

- n - o -
it happens

to tender buds
in wealthy
suites

and poorer shacks
in any
place

and every age
from dot to
grown

they stay unseen
stare at their
sums

are ***** this night
sob off to
sleep

as mother too
walks right on
by

deaf to the screams
he wants his
due

so he will take
her brother
too

'now be a man'
says worm to
prince

he lies to all
most to his
face

and no one sees
and no one
hears

the silent screams
with veil drawn
close

they look askance
and walk on
by
I welcome responses to this poem which is aimed at revealing the culture of silence in 'polite society' - this outpouring of outrage at abuse has been boiling for some time but this poem was sparked off in response to PaganPaul's important and raw poems on this topic  
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1923972/the-judderwitch/
Aug 2017 · 801
~ eternity's moment ~
eleanor prince Aug 2017
pool swirling deep
surface still
beguiling

glimpsed from afar
caution warned
but you came

aeons spoke true
our hands shook
you held on

time stood still
even breath
paused

seconds stretched
vibrating
eternity

stunned we stood
uncaring for talk
riveted

others filled space
with putty chatter
while we stayed locked

silent cerebral synergy
magnetic dance
exceeding

all thought
numbed in
mindless joy
chance meeting with someone memorable
Aug 2017 · 600
m-i-s-f-i-r-e
eleanor prince Aug 2017
stunned inertia
stills response
awareness breaks
as blind's ******

tinkling laughter
clashing chimes
lose their charm
discordant rasp

no substance here
an errant wind
furnace blast
frigid stare

lying eyes
steering chance
to suckle dry
life's bequest

bravery's scorned
why should she care
to keep in tune
seek truthfulness

meet honesty's gaze
authentic ways
on route to her
extinction
dismay on realizing dearth of similar values in one been engaging with closely
Aug 2017 · 357
tenets of dissent
eleanor prince Aug 2017
where does it lie
that fabled key
to grease all
savaged links
so music flows

when will it come
epiphany
to challenge
structures old
still strewn about

who can I be
and still find me
as words fail
to still gales
of verbal blows          

why do feuds sear
aesthesia
shrouding sane
perception
in concussed doubt
even a long friendship can at times sustain moments of intensity where strongly held positions clash, and in that suspended space much can be challenged and found confronting, yet yield valuable lessons
Jul 2017 · 422
# The Curse #
eleanor prince Jul 2017
fog thickens
blurs

casting doubt
on liquid thought

spread thin
on winds of haste

circling sleeping
curse

- while sun shines
beyond -

nil attainment
stalled on whim

whirls in maelstrom's
captive cold

spawning ill will
fed by guilt

shame's icy tongue
curls

- while sun shines
beyond -

spreading gifts
unfelt

waiting to be
held

lest frigid
clouds

shroud
golden
smile
frustration when day after day lovely winter sun is missed due to inside work, procrastination or general stalling on life's golden opportunities
Jun 2017 · 747
WHILE HE STILL BREATHES
eleanor prince Jun 2017
who will run
gauntlet fierce
scythe held high
through thicket thorns
emerge alive
      stay sane      

hours fuse to
decades spent
begging bird song
soothe dispel
savage sordid
scenes

crows confer
callous cold
steal each fractured day
as suffocation
stymies step
yet he walks free

not one escaped
each tender bud
torn in turns
as all around
walked on by
blind to ****

are all afraid
mesmerized
by podium power
pious privilege
feigned
masking sleight of hand

will someone stand
despite the odds
counter hallowed hall
covert thugs' threats
of slow death
if we tell

who can dare
scarred mirror asks
shatter code hushed
defy hypnotic trance
risk life and limb
to speak

or has their curse
rendered lame
those not killed
left to bleed
alone in shadows'
listless lanes

eyes stare
probe, confront
in mirror fogged
I wipe them dry
distraught no flame remains
I can sustain

to fuel the fight
and stagger on
through forest blaze
of justice failed
as cries of children
sear the night

while
he
still
breathes
I would appreciate frank feedback, please.  How do you feel when you read this - is the meaning clear? Thank you
Jun 2017 · 404
charlatan
eleanor prince Jun 2017
his presence stained long
after his glitter
wore thin

uncaring that
his hollow self
festered

puerile jokes regaled
spawning an
ingratiating syrup

of slick deception
fashioned by conceit to
fool most

but the astute
who sensed a rank
dearth of authenticity

long lost
to the lure of
common expediency
Jun 2017 · 337
our choice
eleanor prince Jun 2017
windmills turn
as designed
in ways proscribed

moving water
as they do
here or there

can't complain
there is no point
cycles set in place

but why do we act
like we're
so trapped

live pointless lives
condemn ourselves
as if it's fate

when choice invites
with every step
though blind we be

at end of day
when all is said
and done

we had more we
could influence
if thinking was employed

instead of fears
and pointless strife
and blaming everything

let's harness capability
remove the screen
and truly see

we take a path
we choose to walk
to find ourselves

right here
after cloudy days we find our way and power in self-responsibility
Jun 2017 · 462
reprieve to none
eleanor prince Jun 2017
where is the note
I long to hear
the one that echoes
freedom
life

insects, birds
maddening sharp
should be solace
stylus cruel

when armour's slipped
no safety's found
each breath is work
to think impacts

audacious sun
attempts to smile
through winter's hold
reprieve to none
unsettling, bitterly cold day
Mar 2017 · 502
transcendence
eleanor prince Mar 2017
currents unseen
compress space
distil life's
drive

laser beam sharp
hidden lest robbed
chained yet
free

ego crushed
constrained
causing
breaks

confetti dreams
take wings
orb's disparate
parts

inhabit one frame
fragmented scope
splintered tones
link

eternal sentience shines
born of toxic fumes
from other beings'
waste
Mar 2017 · 423
I Alone Create...
eleanor prince Mar 2017
clawing at 'reality'
I strain
object
fight

slice fetid air
with mind's
willing blades

poised to sense
slay
threat

yet all the while
computations gather
holding conference
council within

weighing
measuring
attempting recognition

so labelling begins
imagining potent blows

yet standing back
storm's curt reminder
and all I survey and rate

mocks
informs
this is largely
of my own making

with meaning assigned
spawned of generations of
programmed thinking
fed by muddied bias

perceptions skewed
tortured to fit
fear's *******
power's price

with illusion's
dragon slain
I face
the truth

this state within
maelstrom
of angst

I
alone
create
inspired by NB's astute observations on my last poem...
Mar 2017 · 332
irrelevance
eleanor prince Mar 2017
irrelevance hits
like a storm
long coming

welcome friend
for in that moment
of stark familiarity
comes a knowing

that all we do
and hope to do
will curl away
like some
outdated scroll

to be trodden
discarded
like so much
refuse

relic of yesteryear
times where earth pulsed
slowly
richly

and peaches tasted
like a maiden's kiss
on my startled country
lad's cheeks

as I chased
the squealing lass
around hollyhocks
hay bales and
munching heifers

now in this
hi-tech world
of plastic cups
disposable

where are
such moments
of innocence
sweetened
by blessed air

somehow
texting
doesn't
cut it

dreams
ideals
a mere
irrelevance
Feb 2017 · 770
ode to a loner
eleanor prince Feb 2017
room's awhirl
sounds collide
banal speech
mirth escapes
clustered holes

stand alone
children pass
chasing chums
they relate
playing roles

noises clash
confined space
worlds apart
I'm alone
flee outside

under trees
hide behind
thumping hall
swirling beat
amplified

close my eyes
dare to breathe
sense some peace
feel her smile
in mind's eye  

sweet relief
friend I know
welcome to
solitude's
lullaby
Feb 2017 · 660
silent treatment
eleanor prince Feb 2017
girl -
your silence tears upon me
a savage beast mute
for in your intermittent groans on gusts of ire
masked in murmurs curt
seepage coarse, acrid leaks

girl -
tell me straight, hide not my fate
your real intent upon these clouds benign
for when the heat of marinated fury bursts
erupts one day on bowed head sad
intent on living life in peace

girl -
will it ruin times of joy we knew
bursts of copper, gold and red
no separation there but alchemy of spirits free
so what is it that ails you friend
arms folded eyes aflame in chilled blind rage
Feb 2017 · 458
- a moment's reprieve -
eleanor prince Feb 2017
a short reprieve
as time would tell
but for that moment
as winter yielded to rest
Ballaarat had turned on a day

no more did grey rain
slice savagely side-wards
shot from Antarctica's ice-fields
separating ribs from shivering flesh
leaving futile dreams of an early spring

this day was good
leaves barely rustled
occasional gusts stirred
caught in silent murmurings
as bulbs reached up with impish smile
this old gold-rush town in mid-Victoria, Australia, is built on a windy plateau, and though gracious in its traditional beauty, is known for relentless winds most of the year... a fine day is celebrated!
Dec 2016 · 531
s t e a l t h
eleanor prince Dec 2016
swirling wistful
whispering ridge

speaks to my blood
ancient refrain

stroking stealthy
passionate reach

leaves no freedom
coveting all

onwards stalking
urgently quiet

strikes when poise
drifts

apart
https://www.flickr.com/photos/92628403@N07/27310942001/in/faves-51029280@N05/
Dec 2016 · 948
oxygen thief
eleanor prince Dec 2016
it was hard not to notice
her suffocating stance
eliminating life
from breath

stark contrasts clashed
chemist stench rife
clawed nails fought
with burnt electric hair

face caked with
false promise
rude lips bled
in twisted shapes

mismatched words
shot giddily from
handgun mind
long since spent

guests' amused disdain
stilled at sharp madness
flashes of veined sclera
screamed woe

signatures etched on
death warrants
coffin lids
clamped shut

wild assertions
rank religious fervor
vomited about
a hushed room

charity's stretched
compassion quit
in rush to regain
a summer's peace

efforts to impress
stabbed coarsely
dense air strangled
rational thought

guilty images beset
tortured space
noxious noise
begging revolt

yet collective dagger
falls aside mute
lest honour
too is lost

as raucous gasps fail
to impress
with anything
less than

dreams
of a quiet book
easily wooed
by a silent stream
musings of a fictional, failed 'blind date' sparked by an odious social experience - but the writing style itself inspired by NB's fascinating poetry
Dec 2016 · 898
Largo's Last Embrace
eleanor prince Dec 2016
mid-night flower
dare to bloom
unfurl as
moon
wanes

petals soft
velvet smiles
soothe these
waters
deep

echoes rich
Handel's dirge
breathe
your last
embrace
Dec 2016 · 393
rendered mute
eleanor prince Dec 2016
what do you do

when shrapnel of mind
let loose on rabid breath
tears at flesh
within

bullets round and smooth
wreak havoc
on pillars of norm
challenged

niceness blown apart
in stark light
harsh persistent truth
revealed

cloaks hastily drawn
screened vagaries of
loose imaginings
stripped

etched faces bland
devoid of genuine strength
cast aside effigies
of life

once lived interrupted
childhood tales
spent on pyre of fight
delayed

where skies are green
and grass grey
parameters moved
until there is

no sound
constructive responses welcome
Dec 2016 · 625
- - - fly free - - -
eleanor prince Dec 2016
as one stage empties
slow shuffle exit
another curtain will
rise

waiting for that spark
an instant in time
silent explosion
within

stylus on rock face
outline of past forms
a mountain's sudden
call

as eagle marks
still moments
above a darkened
gorge

brooding dawn
fights clouds'
urgent
cries

and man's spirit
lifts high and
at last
flies

free

- - - - - -
Sometimes poems don't easily flow for a time.  Perhaps we are trying to have each one just perfect.  This off the cuff poem arose spontaneously and is dedicated to Kamala  from poetfreak.com (ending 31/12/16) who has wonderful talent.  This is my welcome poem to him if he finds his way here:
Take care - you are a brilliant poet - it sits there waiting for that spark - a turn of the head, a cloud formation, a child's sudden laugh on distant wind, the roar of a river...
an eagle soaring steady, ominous, yet beautiful - as a sullen dawn over a brooding sea - ah! I feel it stir in you - it is there...
for you are a true poet, my friend, so let it fly free...!
I found this pic on Flickr to accompany this post - it's worth viewing: https://www.flickr.com/photos/visbeek/4079078904/in/photolist-GGYAEj-zPqzkH-C6vKbQ-tUkRHr-tBTyRn-tBTyre-u5ffKz-sXjLhh-7dsm3C-nNmfSZ-5XmwwH-nJcEhR-GRkyQQ-rAKyje-6hfKbn-9RWR7c-aZugaB-cYE9bm-96nk4X-5TS2fP-tUtcM6-s51CHE-tpkJAo-tvC4gD-uvYmuC-xQijbn-tLgSWL-syvu
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