OPEN MIC SHORT STORY POEMS
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Passion Soliloquy
Four comments from His lips over less than one day’s span Tell of His conquest over sin and death, showing us the way this ‘Son of Man’ His humanity spark momentarily, asking if He must “take this cup?” cup of our responsibility Next thought the Father’s will, of His love there is enough Hanging up looking down Tilted heads skyward eyes from the ground “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do” Believing they silence me Thinking they follow you This world’s sin is truly great and of His being did it satiate Sin bearing down a burden too great to carry yet not one minute did He tarry |
As heavy a ransom
as there could be “Why my God oh why have you forsaken me?” Not forsaken now I see though you’ve turned away Clearly, of this world’s sin ne’er a trace shall transgress your face For those who follow and trust in me there is eternal life And to the faithful of my words certainly they will win it Sins of all now taken on purpose and role fulfilled Finally, with one last breath, “It is finished.” Branch Isole © 2008 |
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It’s All Good
If “It’s All Good” then why every time I hear it said are you always hanging your head, as if you have just learned you’ve been slighted? Why is your tone one of dejection, your emotions singed by the hint of rejection? When you say “It’s All Good” why does your demeanor project a false self-assurance as you inject, “It doesn’t matter” while your body language screams “It does!” You respond, “It’s All Good” but your attitude speaks volumes as seething revenge dangles its carrot of martyrdom until your very essence is totally consumed |
If “It’s All Good”
why the ever present ‘short-end-of-the-stick’ look as if you’ve had something of value which someone took When queried your anecdotal reply is “It’s All Good” through and through, but who exactly are you trying to convince, me, or you? Branch Isole © 2006 |
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Feast and Famine
Gaiety surrounds this nuptial gathering The flutter of pastel clad bridesmaids float from table to table ensuring guests be reminded of today’s focal point, as she basks in her temporal glory for a few fleeting hours Self-conscious in her size two dress Adroitly calculating the calories arrayed before her Adding. Subtracting. Comparing. Glasses all raised at the behest of a host. Bread sticks Carrots Skinless fish, Potatoes Stir fry Baked meatloaf, Hypnotic layers of wedding cake . . . Not one word heard of his toast. Branch Isole © 2014 |
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Face It
Idols and demigods prove to be fallible Nations and civilizations crumble under the weight of their own misguided masturbatory interpretations No quarter is given lent or received as progress is filled with lies born and bred to deceive There is no substitute claim or excuse evidence, to override the truth It cannot be ninety-nine percent Yes, and one percent No, truth is without exception absolute one-hundred proof Manipulations we manufacture for ourselves allow us to rationalize our beliefs replete with falsehoods, excuses, deceit that we might understand our fallibility but we don’t, we won’t, |
We stake our lives on that one percent
designed to give us an out Disguised, we need not embrace the truth and win, as we lose face. Branch Isole © 2007 |
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Parenthetically The cruelty of life is that we only live once (the blessing, we only die once). Branch Isole © 2009 |
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Penance
She goes to her knees and feels helpless The motivation heartfelt The action embarrassing Would that her desire be fulfilled by this movement yet in doing so she feels at once guilt ridden, so her shame keeps her seated as conflict between her need to acquiesce and her choice of not moving keeps her farther from him She remembers examples set forth in words and pictures They spring to life as two dimensional images vivid in memory’s mind as if reality recalled Taught the guidance reward received by him she too might share a transcendent moment of peace, yet still she sits unable to reconcile mentally the emotion whereby a similar action itself condemns her sinfulness |
The battle line drawn
between cognition and surrender she realizes again his forgiving patience and understanding Without a single word nor one prepared she kneels in prayer, and he draws closer. Branch Isole © 2007 |
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Pilot
Many days and nights have we traveled together always have I relied upon you for me, ne’er a care with you at the controls Warm and comforted have I been no matter the weather nor influences outside while transported here and there relaxed was I all needs met by your sanguinary blessed vessel, announcing my presence awaiting arrival an appearance to be revealed Sense of woman Strength of man these you gave with the kiss of your breath, by the touch of your hand no rejection my election Understanding your love accompanies me as I follow the amniotic flood of emotionally charge fluid flowing before me |
Still the Pilot
of my soul’s heart until the stain of mankind blots and absorbs me as part of the dark. Branch Isole © 2007 |