tangerine
B ● A ● N ● A ● N ● A
- AKA
- Val
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Suicide
A villanelle by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
Did you not know a loving tryst?
Do you regret an empty life?
As sapience deals a final kiss.
Are you without eternal bliss?
Have you not loved a faithful wife?
Did you not know a loving tryst?
You are discarded into this:
A sea of sorrow filled with strife,
As sapience deals a final kiss
For logic love has been dismissed
Into the dark, hollow nightlife.
Did you not know a loving tryst?
A murmur whispers what you’ve missed;
That love has ceased to wisdom’s rife,
As sapience deals a final kiss.
Now at the end something’s amiss
That can not be found with your knife.
Did you not know a loving tryst?
As sapience deals a final kiss.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Sonnet of a Masque
A sonnet by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
A face disfigured, twisted, tired, troll,
Puts forth a plan to rid the world of want
And wears a masque which hides its heinous daunt.
Disguising lust and hate for ev’ry soul,
The masque weeps only for the face it stole
And mocks the storm of people on its jaunt,
With plan to rid the world by means of gaunt.
Disease is spread through running, rolling shoal
To village destined, too, as living dead.
His lust comes in the forms of want and need
To witness world macabre in his stead;
To make them suffer – suffer, cringe and bleed,
To make them note the veins from which they’ve bled,
And masque of death which planted here the seed.
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The Queen
A narrative poem by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
The midnight light tells of a tale, of fear and fright and faces pale
Of a fabled auspica whistling through the night of wind and hail,
Visible through fenestella, gleaming o’er heading regalia
Where the Queen sits here in waiting, waiting for the omen’s veil
To cover King and children here with this most foreboding veil;
Waiting to commence Her tale.
The cold of winter sneaking in foretells the dreadfulness of sin
That she now waits on only for the opportune chance in this gale.
Her mind a rush with evil thoughts to point where she is well distraught,
She can no longer sit waiting, waiting for the omen’s veil
The time rings twelve, the time is right; she stands here to cover veil,
Ready to commence Her tale.
Down the hallway and to the right, the King lies sleeping in bleak night,
Dreams, oblivious, unaware of usurping Queen eying vale
Which King reigns o’er with iron fist, while the Queen slips in like a mist.
She sets Her eyes on the prize in taking which things grand entail,
To usurp and embezzle goods which she hopes will then entail –
Merely a part of Her tale.
Her soul shadows o’er the King’s door, screaming in a silent uproar,
Her thoughts only for a moment horrifying enough to quail
At actions now-then interim which ultimately earn kingdom,
Gracious of macabre actions, actions to cover with veil.
A soul shall not bear witness but the victim of omen’s veil,
Nothing but plot in Her tale.
She can not contain herself more; she leans forward and opens door,
The darkness there seeming no more than the final bar to her jail;
The prison from which she is freed once she commits auspice’s deed.
She needs do no more than striking, strike to hit mark without fail,
Mind resolved, no hesitation; the time’s right, she will not fail –
The defined time to Her tale.
Suddenly something is not right; to her surprise there is a light
A clacking of footsteps and drowned sounds surround, keeping her from grail.
A flurry of thoughts – all at once – fills her mind in a moment lost,
Sentenced to secret isolation ever covered in veil,
Where she will rot in turmoil grace of auspice’s lasting veil;
Final curtain to Her tale!
Suicide
A villanelle by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
Did you not know a loving tryst?
Do you regret an empty life?
As sapience deals a final kiss.
Are you without eternal bliss?
Have you not loved a faithful wife?
Did you not know a loving tryst?
You are discarded into this:
A sea of sorrow filled with strife,
As sapience deals a final kiss
For logic love has been dismissed
Into the dark, hollow nightlife.
Did you not know a loving tryst?
A murmur whispers what you’ve missed;
That love has ceased to wisdom’s rife,
As sapience deals a final kiss.
Now at the end something’s amiss
That can not be found with your knife.
Did you not know a loving tryst?
As sapience deals a final kiss.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Sonnet of a Masque
A sonnet by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
A face disfigured, twisted, tired, troll,
Puts forth a plan to rid the world of want
And wears a masque which hides its heinous daunt.
Disguising lust and hate for ev’ry soul,
The masque weeps only for the face it stole
And mocks the storm of people on its jaunt,
With plan to rid the world by means of gaunt.
Disease is spread through running, rolling shoal
To village destined, too, as living dead.
His lust comes in the forms of want and need
To witness world macabre in his stead;
To make them suffer – suffer, cringe and bleed,
To make them note the veins from which they’ve bled,
And masque of death which planted here the seed.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
The Queen
A narrative poem by V. Vieira
___________________________________________________________
The midnight light tells of a tale, of fear and fright and faces pale
Of a fabled auspica whistling through the night of wind and hail,
Visible through fenestella, gleaming o’er heading regalia
Where the Queen sits here in waiting, waiting for the omen’s veil
To cover King and children here with this most foreboding veil;
Waiting to commence Her tale.
The cold of winter sneaking in foretells the dreadfulness of sin
That she now waits on only for the opportune chance in this gale.
Her mind a rush with evil thoughts to point where she is well distraught,
She can no longer sit waiting, waiting for the omen’s veil
The time rings twelve, the time is right; she stands here to cover veil,
Ready to commence Her tale.
Down the hallway and to the right, the King lies sleeping in bleak night,
Dreams, oblivious, unaware of usurping Queen eying vale
Which King reigns o’er with iron fist, while the Queen slips in like a mist.
She sets Her eyes on the prize in taking which things grand entail,
To usurp and embezzle goods which she hopes will then entail –
Merely a part of Her tale.
Her soul shadows o’er the King’s door, screaming in a silent uproar,
Her thoughts only for a moment horrifying enough to quail
At actions now-then interim which ultimately earn kingdom,
Gracious of macabre actions, actions to cover with veil.
A soul shall not bear witness but the victim of omen’s veil,
Nothing but plot in Her tale.
She can not contain herself more; she leans forward and opens door,
The darkness there seeming no more than the final bar to her jail;
The prison from which she is freed once she commits auspice’s deed.
She needs do no more than striking, strike to hit mark without fail,
Mind resolved, no hesitation; the time’s right, she will not fail –
The defined time to Her tale.
Suddenly something is not right; to her surprise there is a light
A clacking of footsteps and drowned sounds surround, keeping her from grail.
A flurry of thoughts – all at once – fills her mind in a moment lost,
Sentenced to secret isolation ever covered in veil,
Where she will rot in turmoil grace of auspice’s lasting veil;
Final curtain to Her tale!