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eleanor prince Oct 2016
bent man's coat
torn

crisp shirts
board table
graced

now
grey

winds pummel
forgotten frame

crouched
low

cardboard sheet
sodden

wan dawn
breaks

society's stare
averts

empties past
hurried

imagines
immunity

from life's
bitter cold
this pic is something of what this poem portrays...
https://www.flickr.com/photos/124085518@N08/16609308305/in/faves-51029280@N05/
eleanor prince Jun 2023
some days I grieve alone
as sunshine sounds obscene
no help or match for rain
not caring where it goes
to leave a chequered scene

the clouds hide their intent
build-up to manic heights
and storms attack our land
to savage crumbling shores
and saturate the nights

I stare in broken starts
I've seen too much that stings
with stoic eyes some pray
and mop the mud-soaked rooms
we wish our homes had wings
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
eleanor prince Jun 2016
seas receive
thousand cries

stifled sighs
broken ties

silent tales
held within

cache sounds
unheard din

breakers come
to incite

endless rite
pointless fight

tall he stands
resolute

rocklike form
absolute

striding on
ancient seas

takes her due
gradually

steals his hold
stealthily

firmament
casts its spell

undermines
with each swell

strategy
crystallized

her control's
minimized

empyreal
victory

behemoth
must agree

all it takes
is a move

change his stance
he can prove

though the seas
snarl and pout

in the end
there's no doubt

while there's worth
status tall

at some point
we may fall

think ahead
where we be

lest we're trapped
in some sea
this is the Flickr pic I selected to go with this poem: https://www.flickr.com/photos/sverrir_thor/15866624195/in/faves-51029280@N05/
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.
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
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!
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
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
eleanor prince Oct 2023
Bunkered--
that's how they are now...
my soft places once shared with you
sequestered, behind barricades of knowing.

When you sold me out, did you think I would not find out?
My spirit wails at what is lost, the wall between us...
Fire, revenge? Nay, a knife will not assail you--
I refuse to be like you.
eleanor prince Jun 2016
a nuance
enigma
a moment in time

a brooding
depression
dichotomy raw

a stirring
defiance
a wrath's crashing storm

a protest
in outcry
a need to transform
https://www.flickr.com/photos/71121143@N02/11842720453/in/photolist-j3v3cp-dyhBwP-ej6N39-eKrVyU-gJnVnw-9YKgZD-oGg51c-dxYumx-dFobPo-bLTCoR-kEQLeu-iYrGcC-aH8kuT-ekzscW-4aSmyQ-qh6AEp-jUi8ee-r3zBoh-cGsgSC-h7VWUW-jGD78t-q7ifDh-amhrQv-gGcDmX-hHQRnF-dCNR2Y-a2cCk
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
eleanor prince Jul 2020
ankles held firm
his shoulders lurch

branches loom ahead
I duck in ashen forests

'Do all Uncle says,'
Mother spat again

face is stinging
air's thinning

I'm milk-bag
sleepy

he yanks
me higher

~~~~

'Here we are
my sweet!'

the stiff door
creaks slowly

his treacle tone
mocks the dust

dead moths stir
in alarm

~~~~

I'm flung
down

mat's
hard

he's
in me

I die

again

they all do it

~~~~

I disappear to
holes in the wall

they watch in silence
and let me stay on

cold-blooded fire
burns red

do I live
numb

I pray

~~~~

staring out the
window I see

sifted icing
sugar peaks

my Mountain
smiles strong

sparkling clean
in warming sun

Whoever made it
is my Friend

a gift

for life

~~~~

it's my
birthday

I'm two

~~~~~~~

#child #innocence #destroyed #alone #mountain #clean #strong
for some, betrayal starts early... and the body remembers... as does the mind
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
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
eleanor prince Mar 2023
His crown sat bent -
    and it looked quite odd
          on the shady side
          of his sparse baldhead

His ego reigned
     while his daughter sweet
          could not make the move
          to get past her dread

His aproned slave
     dared not make a sound
          to defy the rules
          'til he made her dead

His cranium
     suffered sudden blows
          when an illness struck
          with the news ahead

He spat in barks
     telling all who came
          they should breathe their last
          and he died instead
a bitter-sweet ditty like a child's play poem
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
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
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
eleanor prince Feb 2021
he walked away
with the sting
of youth
burning
a halo

noted
by those
who know
that the passage
of the years as time
makes its relentless march
is simply because we got up
and retired to bed as he did
every day of every year

and one day daffodils
were covered by falling
leaves with mulled wine
in mourning as frost waits
knowing it will soon succeed
in bringing lasting shadows to
all living breathing creatures
including the man who
saunters on by
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
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.
eleanor prince Nov 2023
Run... run while you can
before the envelopment entraps you
encapsulating escape with leaden clouds
skies darkened by searing missiles
unburdening caches waiting
for the stirring of conflict
so easy to hijack
as hatred
screams
loudest
drowning
out the pleas
of nursing mothers
as children's faces fend off
old feuds and avarice of arms dealers
sparked by grief over the slaughter and scarring of children and families due to avarice of war
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
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
eleanor prince Apr 2022
When I was born - mother collapsed
then she got well - never came back

Daddy was gone - most of the time
when he returned - we were attacked

Sister was told: "Feed her or else!
Mix it up right.  Keep your trap shut!"

Daddy got poor - sold me for food
babies were best - earned the best cut

As I grew more - daddy was rich
hooked on the sale - power it brought

I wanted out - pleaded my cause,
he forced me down - never was caught
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...
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
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
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...
eleanor prince Dec 2020
in the wisps of mist
stroking the curves
of a sleeping mountain
I hear a call

husky tones
siphoned off
by a cold wind
mocking

I see you still
as a filtered moon
drifts over my lashes
quivering

like the scent of you
as we dance
skin to skin
close
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
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
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
eleanor prince Feb 2019
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 stroke 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...
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
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
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... )
eleanor prince Oct 2016
stellar sketch
on waste paper

unfortunate, he said
and left without a glance

snobbery stiffened
his regal back *****

what number
I mused

adept at
brisk dispersal

another spent
autumn leaf

from wrong part
of town

crushed underfoot
with swift disdain

familiar pain screams
on mute screen

tears leave as rage
breaks grief's hold

walls bleak
accuse

sunken eyes pierce
where hope once sang

free in life's
sun-kissed  field

before awareness
smirked crude

shaking illusion's
ephemeral sigh
For some reason catching sight of this pic elicited this poem...
https://www.flickr.com/photos/damianward/30230313085/in/faves-51029280@N05/
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
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...
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
eleanor prince Jun 2016
her smile
lingers caught
on restless breeze
autumn leaves scuttle
rejected dreams
once courted
hover

her hair
woven silk
dewdrops fine
in misted web
bring together
limbs long held
apart

they know
what rivers ran
streams of hope
rapid raw desire
hearts drowned
beating twin tunes
singing as
one

now just a scent
on yonder cloud
mocking cruel
as yet another
winter's
wan
morn
breaks
This poem was penned in response to a deeply moving art-house movie called 'Night Train to Lisbon.' While the slant I take here is not particularly along the story line, I feel it encapsulates the essence of some of what this stunning film engenders within me. Hope you enjoy my first post here
eleanor prince Jan 2019
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...
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
eleanor prince Jul 2016
I am he
I am she
I am child
I’m your voice

I have fear
I have pain
I have love
Is there choice

Ravaged crop
Destitute
Plundered field
How I weep

For the times
I once knew
Long ago
Babe in arms

Succour sweet
Lullabies
Soothed my soul
How it calms

Within months
It had gone
He appeared
Hatred spread

Body torn
Savaged soul
Night had come
Life had fled
http://www.flickr.com/photos/callocephalon/3488339058/
eleanor prince Jan 2019
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
eleanor prince Jun 2016
years absorb days
waiting for life's word -
moment when
creaking doors open
providing peace

days follow night
dank dismissive disdain
lone refrain soaking
soft dark soil
inviting release

was it in snow's soft folds
stark charcoal sketches
scratching sheets of white

or garish cacophony of
rude spring's play

maybe summer's
hedonistic obsession
bursting searing blight

or praps the weeping fall
resigned to decay

no... not there
not anywhere 'out there'

one day it ceased
incessant primordial
wail for absent breast
laid bare

grow up
stand tall
forgive
outlive

undo the latch
let newness breathe
let go lament and
choose to Live!
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
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!
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