Behemoth earned Honorable Mention in Rhyming Poetry
Siren placed Tenth in Rhyming Poetry
for Tasha L. Medeiros 1988-2020
The devil watched, knew your soul was sweet and full of life.
It followed. Pressed its shadow to your steps
and basked in your exuberance.
Only, its darkness could not reach you,
for its presence was beneath you.
But the devil knows indifference, and with an infinite existence,
it’s weight grew dead with welcomed rest, content to bide its time.
Feeding on your silver laugh and drinking in your mind.
Lurking down its corridors and knocking at each door,
testing the integrity of each and every thought.
Tempting you with all its forms until you felt its weight,
then the devil smiled, said ‘Come here, child, and let me numb your pain’
Disguised as bliss and kindred-ship,
your limbs respond with trust.
So the devil crawls upon your back
it’s claws become your cuffs.
It's voice, a crushing burden with intention to make dust.
And all along the cherubs watched,
saw your soul was fierce and loved.
They saw Behemoth’s clutches on your back
and Woland in your blood;
They saw the grief of heavy hearts whose loss was felt too soon.
They saw your smile, said ‘Come now, child, there is still much your light can do’
Then the cherubs placed a tender hand upon your resting cheek.
As the devil fell to ashes beyond your raptured feet;
And out of darkness reach, you lift, in Luna’s snow-white chariot.
The luminescence of the night.
Bathe gypsies in your tranquil light.
They press their purpose to your dance and frolic in your brilliance.
As the devil watches, much entranced.
He cowers at your sight.
As you rise above the shadowed plains,
a goddess of moonlight
He is the sea and the shore of grand isle
where hungry artists come to die.
Of their own free will they tiptoe in
and surrender every weakened limb
What shape is your god if you are the moon
and temporal the tides come in.
Waxing and waning melodious words,
to beguile as a siren
Flirting with minds through ancient trees,
setting lignin souls afire.
If such sublime be not comme il faut,
then I am guilty of desire
In a world dictated by herds of men
who would rather be happy than free.
A voice speaks to the heart of me
and he is the sea.