MASKED BALL:

Misty cobweb auras, caress lapping waterways,

Masked ball imminent, as day now goldenly frays,

Alleyways awakening, at shadowed purple dusk,

Exuding perfumes exotic, of rose, ambergris & musk.

 

Veined canals, of gondolas, gallant gentlemen & gems,

The masked Signoras flaunt, their carnival garbed hems,

Silently, softly sashaying, in fancy fans, frills & filigrees,

Kissed upon masked cheeks, by sweet Venetian breeze.

 

The old cobbles dusted, by secrets, silks & sacred satins,

Whisperings of passion, in words loved by ancient Latins,

Enveloped in vintage velour, velvets & home spun lace,

All loving promises duly broken, by every hidden face.

 

Mandolins, lutes, lyres, where strings are softly fingered,

Leaving stories upon moss walls, & songs so well lingered,

Magnolia scented belles, in bronze bangles & rich brocade,

Waltzing beneath old moons, as night memory begins to fade.

 

In those places of pretty porticoes, of poetry & old pearls,

Where carnival waves adieu, upon tears & saline whirls,

The ball bids farewell, upon emptying of wine´s red cask,

Until the turquoise moon returns, & dons her yearly mask.

 

 

INVISIBLE ILLNESS:

Pain, fatigue, dizziness & all at sea,

She suffers in silence & no one sees,

Fighting tough battles, all on her own,

And yet, nobody hears her lonely groan.

 

Garbing pain racked body in satin & lace,

Pale lips painted red, upon pallid wan face,

Outdoors she goes, with trials in her pocket,

Nobody knows, except those in her locket.

 

With smile on her lips, that are so well sealed,

Living in constant hope, to be one day healed,

On “How are you dear”? She answers every time,

“Thank you for asking me & I´m doing just fine”.

 

ACID:

She was acidic by nature & sour by name,

Mean-cheek-sucked-in, & lip-pursed dame,

Of grimaced face, & stomach tight knotted,

With her chest closed up, & her gut garroted.

 

She was all wrapped up, against cruel world,

She was bundled up, & in cold skin, en-furled,

Her toes curled bent, & her fists fight-balled,

With look of thunder & of storm well squalled.

 

She was of un-giving spirit & buttocks clenched,

She was deeply within her own hell entrenched,

Tear-stained eyes screwed up, & sour expression,

She was merely the victim of her sad depression.

 

 

SOUL:

There is a sacred place she goes to, every single day,

It is that place of still silence, where she goes to pray,

Where there´s no interference, by fussy hand of man,

Where there is no need to fret, to plot, or even to plan,

Where no noise is heard, & there´s no harsh glaring light,

Where nothing´s ever wrong, & all´s gentle & oh so right,

She goes away to that place, where she feels so very whole,

That place deep within her, that ancient Gods call the soul.

LIE:

She had been living a lie, since coming to earth,

Doing everyone´s bidding, since day of her birth,

Obeying one & all, her parents, also her teachers,

Upon knees to authority, of prepotent preachers.

 

To all the bosses & leaders, always kowtowing,

To those in know, her head always low bowing,

Upon her Crone-hood, said, “I´ll take it no more”,

And turning around, she walked right out the door.