Infinite Divisibility

The calls come in voices of need
from those who stake a claim,
a queue breaking into a throng.
There is no ignoring them.
Who will answer but the one who hears?
Responsibility and compassion intertwine,
becoming a 'yes' because I can.
How many time will I split
so all get a piece?
Is there a retreat where blades cannot slice,
where shields are not rent,
and my heart is not cleaved?
Calling for reprieve in smaller voices,
receding to paradox,
less after each division,
there are dozens of weaker me's
roaming the empty halls of unity.
Before the man has left
or becomes too small to see,
ask the question,
what was there to divide,
infinite parts of nothing?

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

A poetical take on Zeno's paradox of infinite divisions as applied to human emotional strength and its eventual limits.

Bullets and Blood

     you threaten with bullets and blood
so you'll be the last to own her
nothing you would not do to satisfy
the corruption of your mind

     you threaten with bullets and blood
and strike her with menace and fear
in a deceitful posture you call to God
as your witness you will change

     you threaten with bullets and blood
after standing in church with raised
hands to heaven and tears flowing
freely from a claimed forgiveness

     you threaten with bullets and blood
forgiveness she gave in full
patience she offered complete
with a hope for a different end

     you gave her bullets and blood
on the couch after she yelled your name
to warn your child to flee from
the house in the practiced way

     you gave her bullets and blood
she gave you love and children
never again one more time
share her flesh, marital bliss
     you gave her bullets and blood


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written as an anaphora for dVerse Poets ~ Listen To This: Anaphora

Note: This horrible event happened a couple of years ago in our small community. I knew the couple well. The makings of this poem were written days or weeks after the murder as I tried to understand what cannot be understood.

Smoking Angels

I saw a few angels smoking cigarettes
down by the bus stop.
They looked like they wanted to take off,
but the night sky was moonless,
tickets tucked in their wings,
waiting for their ride to next stop.
They passed a rose between them,
smelling it up between puffs.
One's face glistened,
thought of the oblivion,
looked in a mirror with regret,
burning strips of flesh,
breaking the smolder
after the hotel went up.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written for dVerse Poets ~ Open Link Night

Note: this was a writing exercise suggested from "The Poet's Companion" by Kim Addonizio & Dorianne Laux.

Cousteau

Fifth grade
recess keep away,
run forever,
no one touches me,
- maybe Debbie and Donna,
sometimes Susan -
if I let them,
if I liked them.
I always loved Calypso,
the old Brit minesweeper
Jacques used to show me
his undersea world.
What kid was an
oceanographer,
marine biologist,
dreaming of seas and ports,
my folks said.
Nobody knew what to do.
Sister Mary Jane Elizabeth
wrote a nice note.
Books, books I read,
pages filled my head,
seeing it all through the bus window
on the long ride home
from Notre Dame,
happy,
alone,

in my blue world -

   currents swept me out

   drifted with Kon-Tiki,

   deep waters I swam

   with snorkels and tanks

   submersibles too,

   coming up for air

   slowly from the depths

   to avoid the bends,

   fought with predators

   a knife in my sheath,

   cut myself on coral reef

   avoiding a moray eel,

   running in white sand

   I lingered in Tahiti with Gauguin

   and worked on my tan,

   birds, mammals, fish

   every creature that lived

   in the sea

   but me

   I knew

   by name

   or sight

Oh, could I go back and
live that dream,
would I make your crew,
Monsieur Cousteau?


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Come To Me

I step, gut tightens.

Dark eyes shift away from me.

Why will she not come to me?


Last night's loving hour,

I gently whispered her name.

Still, she would not come to me.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

A sedoka written for dVerse Poets ~ Form For All

my goddess

i, a mortal man

you, my goddess

your body a temple

olympus your home

i can never enter


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Released Beauty #1

He found her crying to quench the sun,
sitting on a steamy smooth rock
by the water's edge, alone,
the gulls mocking her.

He had passed her once and
could not continue ignorance,
for the sound of her pain he heard
through waves speaking in her stead.

Some noticed by glance, but he spun and
traced his footprints back to her side.
Never looking up, she sorted lies
pulled from a hand basket on her lap.

The darkest were on the bottom,
hidden long as endurance allowed,
below the sweetness of the handsome
lies used to deliver the most onerous.

She dug deep and with every one she
stared, as looking inside far away,
rubbed her head where the pain
would not relent its intimate throbbing.

Gently, he removed her hands from the
midst of the basket, took the last lie in
her clutch and dropped it to the sea,
the others he set in the hot white sand.

A fragment of a smile arose in those
moments when she unclenched the lies.
Her allure burst in that long pause
of freedom, a magnificent bloom.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written for dVerse Poets Pub ~ Poetics: Beauty Is Everywhere

Complexity

Complexity
creates tasks harder to complete.
Complexity
has always been my tendency.
It fills, consumes - my life replete
with its stress, and no way to cheat
complexity.

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

A rondelet written for dVerse Poets ~ Form For All ~ The Rondelet

Tony is hosting in the Pub tonight, and has thrown this French form poem of seven lines our way. Lines 1,3, and 7 are the refrain of four syllables. The other four lines each have eight syllables. The rhyme scheme is AbAabbA.

How Long I Stood

how long i stood
standing

grass grew
birds flew
dragonflies around the pond took
   rest from ceaselss flight
the sun went down
and still the ground
felt no relief
of leaden feet

wind blew
wet with dew
long grass no longer lay bent
   in the footprints
where once you stood
my greatest good
forever bright
gone from sight

how long it took my heart to start
   again
was measured by empty space
the void you left behind
to fill what is to be
that all my eye can see

standing
how long i stood

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written for dVerse Poets Pub ~ Poets OpenLinkNight ~ Week 100

Dust to Dust

If the gods turned you to stone,

I'd lie in long sleep at your feet,

dissolve to the ground and wait

for time to chisel you to dust,

so we could be one, once again.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013