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    • I have more than 5,000 contacts. I have more than 5,000 contacts. Writers Spotlight: Red Dwyer | Momma's Money Matters commented on Momma's Money Matters: [...] which allowed the prize to evade them in the past. It is a similar story to the one presented in Unknighted, but far less [...] August 29, 2012 16:36
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Knightly

Mantra

Mantra has been working on something I have interrupted for the past week. Truthfully, more than a week, but I let her finish it this afternoon amidst other goings on. Want to see what she has been trying to accomplish? I know how she voted in the poll.

When it began, it was crass and not in keeping with my mood, so I shut it down. It had more to do with I could not see where she would go with it. Little did I know it would take so long to get to the place where she was venting the true issue.

This is the reverberation of things, in both the real and virtual worlds, which have been tormenting many lately.

In a twist from our normal course, where I struggle to name what Mantra creates, this one came with the name in the beginning. Unknighted. She took her sweet time getting to how the title would come to factor in the verse. She has come to say a mouthful.

Unknighted

Are you bound? Tied hand and foot?
Are you tethered to the ground?
Did your mired feet take root?
How can you stand? Make no sound?

My soul’d be crushed by demands
If I was only standing,
Worried and wringing my hands,
Instead of charging right in

To discover what I could,
Do what I felt, what I must,
To turn the tide back to good,
Ensure the treatment is just.

How can apathy rule you?
Keeping you from those you love?
Did you want me to stand, too?
Give up what I’ve control of?

What purpose could be served by
Ceding my independence?
I refuse to even try.
I haven’t lost my good sense.

Sacrifice is noble when
Someone benefits, it’s dear,
But not only to maintain
A safety net filled with fear

Of losing the here and now,
Which is certainly no gem,
For a lifetime view of how
Life’s lived on upper stratum.

The shackles and chains are not
Instruments of amusement
When branded with fear’s ingot.
Despair and disappointment

Populate the balcony,
Fill the aisle and the front row,
The seats for the symphony,
A packed house for Pity’s show.

Offered the strength of my back,
Dryness of my staid shoulders,
Mind which is sharp as a tack.
They fell on your deafened ears.

Not handicapped. No, not deaf.
Filled with incessant chatter
Of excuses strewn like chaff.
Echoing makes me madder.

Stop reciting your design.
The frame’s so warped and broken
None of it remains benign.
Contrition’s not its token.

Instead it’s a monument
To abysmal nothingness,
About which you still lament.
A hymn, surreal nonsense.

You hold a ticket in hand
For the road you’ve not traveled.
I gave it because I can
Guide you winningly ahead,

Away from the status quo,
The miserable comfort
You hold on to, even though
It’s rife with mindful discord.

You’ve walked in the unfit boot
So far, you have a limp now.
Skewing and rumpling your suit
Of armor. To pain you cow.

Believing you deserve it
For those fictitious misdeeds
the others conjured to get
Rescued by you on your steed.

Only to have them proclaim
You had no hand in it all.
You hang your head down in shame,
Believing the folderol

Of you causing all the strife
Willfully, knowingly caused
In the miserable life
Of those contrived holocausts.

Take off the helmet so caked
In gore, filth, excrement.
In clean breath you must partake
To clear your brain-defragment.

The barnacles extend down
Over your dented chest plate.
Years of abuse which no sound
Could ever try to negate.

Spent shells at your feet once  held
Those bullets lodged in chain mail.
Greaves adorned with wicked spells,
Hateful shouts meant to assail.

Doff this all spent protection
Bare your skin to warming rays.
Take the elucidation
Wrap in all its bright array.

I’ll share the salve and sun block
To keep you from burning in
Your first stroll beyond the lock
And key fear used hemming in

Your passion and withholding
Happiness just ouside reach.
Walk slowly with me holding
My hand on a wind-swept beach.

Let the waves wash away more
Of the memories just past,
‘Til no sound of voices yore
Echo, silenced at long last.

Finally, you have a choice
To end the pain, taste the joy,
Raise your hands and find your voice
Together the hurt to destroy.

I charged in and succeeded,
Discovered all what I could,
Did what I felt I needed
To turn the tide back to good.

Will you stand there still tethered
To the ground? Bound hand and foot?
Or will you drop the weathered
Vestige of the life of soot

Borne in flames of fear and hate?
Your soul shines dim beneath it.
Still steady, heartbeat of mate
Yearning to be consoled yet.

The Mermaid ~ Waterhouse 1901

I shall wait beside the sea,
My heart shedding phoenix tears
Hoping you come back to me,
Healed of your lifetime of fears.

Do not dawdle, for alone
I shall never again stay.
You have but until the dawn
‘Ere the tide sweeps love away.

010520121528
(c) Ann Marie Dwyer


~~~~~~~~~~

For now, I shall say no more. Tell me what you felt through this poem. What stanza stands out for you? Did something grip you? What did you hear? What does the poem say to you?

(c) Ann Marie Dwyer 2012
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28 Comments

  1. I really like the questioning of this poem, causing readers to connect to the words and ask themselves the questions..

    Reply
    • Red

       /  May 8, 2012

      Thank you, Christy. This is another garlic pod, albeit a roasted one. Glad you stopped by for this one. I am particularly proud of it. {HUGZ}

      Reply
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