#NaPoWriMo Day 4/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free – Verse – “Infinite Fallibility”#amwriting #poetry #TaleWeavers


For Day 4 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “to write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns. Adjectives are fine too!

I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver #162 about an item of magic. To me, something that is ‘ideal,’ has a kind of magic.


Credit: Yuiizaa September via Unsplash


Helen of Troy,

Fairest woman.

The ideal as —

The poet Homer,

The Philosopher Plato’s ‘just’ society;

Yet, the word means,

Not enough;

Not,

Mr. Hawkins’ anomalies,

Nor Virgil’s Aeneid,

Leading Dante on the path —

Purgatory, Hades, and Paradiso.

Yet both were ideal teachers,

For Milton’s Paradise Lost.

Or, consider Coco Channel,

Sewing pockets,

In women’s suits,

Not for decoration,

A utility, women of old —

Weren’t given.

Or Cleopatra the seductress,

Survives Caesar and Marc Anthony;

Her beauty, their destruction; her death.

Or, Shakespeare’s plays,

Ideal comedies, with —

Brilliant histories and tragedies;

Satisfying Queen Elizabeth I’s whims.

And Beowulf’s writer,

Binding the need,

For heroic deeds, boasting —

Revenge and deeds as immortality.

Clashing with,

Holy Scriptures;

And the lone ideal, one man,

From Bethlehem.

Who many still claim,

“He’s a fraud — for freeing me.”

Forgiveness, with heroism,

We have the modern Ulysses;

James Bond, Jason Bourne.

Disney Princesses,

Merida, Elsa and Moana;

Yet, there is no ideal,

On earth we can prefect.

It’s inherit in our existence,

Ideals are lost.

Twisting Milton’s truth,

To Pandemonium.

While Helen’s stare,

Perceives angel- skeletons,

Blaspheming prisoners;

Jews worked, starved to death;

Their figure’s the epitome,

Of models,

Even, ‘Twiggy’s’ bones rattle, and rage.

Yet, Helen smiles,

With visions of new ideals,

Yet, no ideal,

Is ever ideal;

For, to be ideal is to be in paradise.

Not, alive as we are now —

Imperfect as we are.

Our flaws bind us,

In fallibility.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Saturday Mix: Poem – Octain/Double/High – “The Beauty of My Love” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. Saturday’s prompt was to write pasturel poetry (Fiction/no fiction) which is essentially poetry written about nature in an idyllic way. 

———-

Credit: Eden Hills

———

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

Through fields of wildflower I follow her steps, 

Her milk white skin, soft, supple; she knows best,

How tiny goat kids, and dog’s pups will thrive. 

They bleet, whimper, for her hands petting coats, 

Feeding them drops of milk reviving life’s hope. 

So they wil live glorious in pastures kind; 

Become adults frolic, following my queen. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized, 

She gathers the chickens eggs to feed, 

Those who grace her kitchen with smiles pleased. 

Finds the dairy cows, milks them all beguiling. 

She’s a feminist, believes we never stop learning. 

She chose to farm, grows organic food, serves —

Customers desiring; at market they find hers first;

My love works hard, adores our life, she’s pleased. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.