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721 · Mar 2017
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
695 · Mar 2018
- 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
694 · Apr 2018
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)
690 · May 2018
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)
675 · Dec 2018
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
674 · Dec 2016
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
656 · Jun 2017
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
655 · Jun 2018
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
651 · Aug 2019
wild call
eleanor prince Aug 2019
babe stirs
safety a wild call
lost to night

blood ties shunned
explosions blurring
lines

diesel spillage
corrosive
chill

breaking walls
of sleeping
child

carnivorous plants
insects torn to
shreds

by those lost
removed from
breath

passing pause
brisk breeze
grants space

as dawn
stirs
sentience
organized abuse
of every kind
impacts generations
of innocent
children
until dawn
of awareness
arises
and one
manages
to break
free
647 · Aug 2018
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
645 · Dec 2018
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
638 · Oct 2018
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
628 · May 2020
Our Choice
eleanor prince May 2020
a fog of uncertainty
or mist of opportunity

discouragement of the fearful
passion of the pathfinders

boredom of the erudite
opportunity of the ready

despair of the overcome
pride of the calm conqueror

crumbling of the thoughtless
savvy of the thinker

rebellion of restless seas
wisdom of the calmer waters

coarseness of the unmodified rocks
refinement of a rare diamond sage

repeating dirge of the pessimists
excitement of the optimists

shock of the confronted
pragmatism of the realists

dissatisfaction of the takers
fulfillment's flame in the givers

empty shell of the ever selfish
and balm of those who

to the bewildered
smile kindness
In response to Joey's lovely, timely poem: 'Seeing is Believing'

There are many variations in the responses to modern life of those around us, especially to the daily bombardment of the news of 'mass disabling confusion and denial' or the 'barely contained hysteria' observed in reactions of many to an actual or even perceived foe. These altered societal parameters are proving to be a challenge for some, a way to shine for others.  The choice is for us to make, perhaps with a change in outlook for the best outcome, hence I wanted to share the reality and opportunity of our day...
612 · Dec 2020
'Will you be my daddy...'
eleanor prince Dec 2020
'Will you be my daddy?'
the girl in the woman whispered
to yet another lover, acquaintance,
man in the street who looked remotely
like he might just step in the phantom's shoes

...and the ache burned on
the searing, tearing
rags aflame
screamed
hot

and cold
as dry ice,
as unsuitable
whiskered men
became barnacled

to a little child's longing
to have a better papa than
the one that arrived to bash
all decency out of the fibre of

a life torn
This poem has welled up in response to one I have just reposted, penned by a deeply impacting, candid write by poet Joe Thompson.   Not all have the privilege of having known a decent human father, one we can be proud to call our own.   Of course, it would be unwise to seek to make any adult have to try to fill those shoes. The responsibility for wellness in adulthood rests with the one now no longer a child in calendar years. The 'adult' self needs to protect the 'child' inside and gently and firmly help them heal so that only safe partners are sought, with a view to experiencing and enjoying healthy relationships.   I would be honoured if you could leave a comment on what thoughts and feelings arise in you as you read my poem.  Thank you so much. (P.S. I appreciate knowing of any typos, however in Australia it is correct to write 'fibre' not 'fiber' and 'honoured' not 'honored')
608 · Jul 2017
# 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
607 · Feb 2019
unchained pain
eleanor prince Feb 2019
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
597 · Jun 2017
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
584 · Mar 2018
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
eleanor prince Jul 2019
I still wear her shawl
hand knitted
gravel-toned

not an item
I'd buy in a shop
but it's so Mrs. Saks

lamb soft
under many layers
of crusty chill

she'd have it on
standing all of
five feet tall

hands on her hips
peering sharply
down her steep drive

her wooden hut
buried in rambling thorns
of isolation

I'd ask about her life
in the old country
for her as if yesterday

in broken English
she'd tell of the scenes
that bitter day

I'd make notes
to write that essay
so people see

her checklist
sharp as martensite
toughened steel

of mountain fire
fathers and sons
picked off

mothers' wails
silenced
made to look

their babies smashed
screaming in shallow soil
as soldiers laughed

hyenas glibly stealing
a people's jewels
not seeing

the core
lived on
still
580 · Mar 2017
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...
571 · Mar 21
the process of folly
when did a camp fire
become a wild fire
raging through
two hapless
souls blinded

in love with love--

how did it all grow
to a spreading inferno
with bait that satiated
opportunities denied
threatening what is

to be lost forever--

carefully built
solidity over years
of hard work and much
sacrifice, seeing the long-term
goals, knowing that a flash in the pan

often ends in a bitter rainstorm--

when did a camp fire
become a wild fire
raging through
two hapless
souls wounded

so stop now--
sometimes emotional intimacy occurs without realizing the possible cost to existing relationships
558 · Feb 2018
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
547 · Aug 2017
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
532 · Jul 24
some nights...
some nights fold in on themselves
after too many years and decades
spent emptying oneself for others

like old letters re-opened accusing
from where they'd been laid to rest
found in yellowing files and folders

debris stirring from the shadows
unsettles the window ledge dust
irritating the membranes of scent

as memory floods with questions
tagging along like curious children
squabbling about whose fault it was

that we sit writing with brimming eyes
with the kind of solitary regret and shock
that comes when bodies in a silent house

wander around aimlessly trying to fill time
with their pointless pursuits and blinded eyes
imagining just another hit from some website

will stave off stories of their past they shelved
for nights like this when the spectres return
to bring the bill from aged secrets banished
528 · Apr 2019
what's it all about
eleanor prince Apr 2019
shaken I take stock
parrots shrieking loud

sunny days drift by
mock assail my space

flowers bloom but brief
blink and they're replaced

trees take fifty years
decimated swift

people killed, displaced
earth protests in pain

stop, opt out, you're lost
left with platitudes

can I drift removed
isolation seek

then again I see
I sound like them now

if I sulk and pout
fail to see my path

rise above and live
carve a vibrant self

ripples echoing
circle all this globe

passage clipped and purged
take a mountain pass  

rein in darkening clouds
grasp some grit this day
eleanor prince Feb 2019
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
513 · Dec 2019
a life pending
eleanor prince Dec 2019
In solitary spaces
I find parts noise hid
screaming simulacrum
in broken cobwebs

a life pending
in crevices
sensing
chill

broken
concepts
mantles for
ruptured elements
their soft core exposed

casualties of bloodied past
salvaged fragments
society's furnace
discarded

singing
synths
waiting
509 · Jun 2017
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
478 · Mar 2017
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
472 · Aug 2019
street trial
eleanor prince Aug 2019
those eyes are scarred
from damaged winds
on pavement singed

rent scenes recite
a diatribe
how do you live

holes dirtied leak
torn shadows sigh
they shelter filth

you cull the heat
until dice turns
to excise rage

with scalpel sharp
reprieve in sight
a poor man's

prize
----
©
At times we see old eyes pass us by, biding their time.  It may be on the street, in a bus or train.
Sometimes we see it in the mirror.  We know we would never do the deed. We seek to rise above injustice, to transform. But the primitive mind wants its moment, if only in mind ©
447 · May 2019
fresh start
eleanor prince May 2019
some seconds
sear and brand
creating Self

no matter drive
to carve new
persona

early stain
rears serpent
head

heel bruised
sets timer
ticking

his demise
rebellion has
a price

for trails mocked
to mountain top
pristine snow

rivers fuelled
brashly strong
diverted

birth
pathways
forged

straight to
waiting
sea
Whatever we have been handed at birth, and the vagaries of childhood and later, we have a choice to pursue a quest to re-create the Self to something better.  References are to the universal battle, reflected to some extent in our daily decisions, as per Gen 3:15 where the representative of Good is 'bruised in the heel,' and the personification of Evil awaits his final end, being 'bruised in the head.'  Only then will 'heaven and earth' unitedly attain its full relief of peace and happiness, along with true and enduring fulfillment.
443 · Mar 10
lifting a darkened fog
what do you do, my friend
when life descends to
a sense of being in
a veritable vortex

a whirlybird
careering on,
tumbling here
and there while

we're needing ever
to stay perfectly intact
lest forward movement
is lost to us all for good...

and we feel out of sorts;
others are like forms in
a darkened fog passing
by us in a swirling mist

though there are pauses,
times when we are stuck,
seconds that we wonder
will it ever be okay again--

just the right wind can
infuse our sails afresh
and generate breath
past the hurdles

to a life for us
beyond this pain
and the pesky trials
to some quiet smiles...

so hang in there
my sad and
lonesome
friend

for the
maelstrom
of our lives
can ease so we

can joy recall
be happy
for now
after all
some days we may feel beset by sadness and pain - if you can relate, may it ease for you soon
415 · Apr 24
Cobwebs of Time
He lives in fear of the cobwebs of time
wrapping themselves around his eyeballs
stopping him from seeing what others see
those who avoid dark shadows and pitfalls

For the cracks and corners of most of life
remain a mystery regarding the nuance
of how everyone else seems to exist
in various tones absent for him
Some people's minds are differently configured and much regarding interpersonal relationships remains a mystery for them
348 · Aug 10
to hold a song inside
his days were few
when shadows came
to bring the tempest rains
to infiltrate a lad not even two

he learned to have a song inside
that danced and skipped along
no matter what that day
or night would hold

so when the sticks
arrived from monsters
with the thing that stood
and poked up right inside

the songs would play to quiet
the tearing pain that broke the door
where they would come to shove
themselves on toddler flesh

how long will he
with gentle life
be robbed
once more
It doesn't just happen in less 'civilized' lands, low-socio-economic areas, or with alcohol misuse, but even within the well-to-do civilian populations, organized child abuse rings operate targeting a boy or girl's earliest days, for the sake of power and profit. There are more slaves now than in past eras. Some kind souls want to help but most victims remain unseen, and few incidents are reported. Every prophecy in Scripture has come true, so may this one also eventuate soon for in a restored earth where respect reigns for all: "They will do no harm nor cause any ruin" -Isaiah 65:25
334 · Jan 8
go gently
hold me
for but a moment
less the dew
be scarred

for to
clutch me tightly
is to stop
my life

the hop
of the sparrow
that dared to
come near
317 · May 2022
the road home
eleanor prince May 2022
Have you stood
enveloped by
circles of
heavy fog

wondering if
a special skill
could clear this
suffocating smog  

and no attempt
to decipher
the map
shines...?

You find
a crossroad
replete with
multiple signs

if you dare step
towards the light
a dead-end presents
obscuring the road

treetops sway
join the ruse
each route
adds a load

Then fresh winds
sing dawn's song
like a lover's kiss
unlocking tracks

the cloak of the
hazy horizon
lifts and you
can relax

you see
you're there
and you're like
an anti-******
276 · Mar 2020
alone again
eleanor prince Mar 2020
sweet corral
in savage fields
you were to me
salvaged visions
hushed syllables
relayed in gasps
now stilled

and I sang to  
this favoured space
place all ages stretch
dance to meadow’s song
but havens don’t last
for spent shepherds
seek sleep too

I face myself
as dark clouds
I saw fomenting
omens of looming
deepening chill told
of friendship's succor
earmarked to go

confronted by
naked and scarred
discarded outcasts
dirges of limbs
parts broken
by storms'
scythes

you stood
beside me
sturdy strong
then winds ceased
and bland tones
transmitted
often

no sunny sky friend
you are but in storms
you see the beaten
traveler's plea
as rains
strip
breath
Sometimes we happen to come by someone we grow to deeply love as a precious friend, however they may well not see things quite that way, as they could be the perennial helper of those battling the stormy night, and when too much of the everyday mundane increases and swamps the scene, they can unexpectedly withdraw, needing space to chill and just be, and you feel such regret, remorse, shame even, that you didn't realize you were becoming a bad smell, a suffocating presence and you need to draw back or lose the contact, connection forever.
148 · Feb 24
Taken
there's a space that I regret so much
for with blinkers on I didn't see
you falling in love with me

for I thought you saw
my heart is taken and sings
to the strings of an earlier song

not that you aren't the best fun thing
but I'm not like that- in a world of temporary
throwaways... I'm a keeper, and loyal

for when I said "I do" - I vowed
before God and onlookers--
so don't make me fall

with your clever quips
and thought-out slips
for I'm 'true blue'

and my heart still beats
seeing my beloved this day
as I cover his face with kisses

— The End —