Heart Soul’s Death

Heart Soul’s Death

I walk the path of immeasurable  soul's suffering,

I do not go to the places once loved and shared,

When I do, my love's wraith may in memory be waiting,

Remembering  the words of failed cautioned warnings,

This heart’s soul  knows only constant unceaseless pain.

I had only this vulnerable heart which now suffers

Given in offered on the promises of love’s joy,

Trusting as ever in seeking an honest emotion’s promise,

I gave my heart's soul into seemingly trusting hands,

To be outbid by the offer of openly superficial reward.

Left to wonder whether the gift of overwhelming love,

Can ever hold itself against the offers of lustful gain,

I wander lost while this tender heart's spirit

Ever remains with the heart soul of the one it loves,

Knowing that joy no longer is part of this own soul.

I will no more the places trod where we once went,

These have been diminished and hidden by a deceitful  one,

This heart understands that plan with the  duplicitous she,

From scribbling visions of her prominent puritan guise,

I recollect the time when love was a tangible glory.

Seeking for solace and release while sitting and writing,

Knowing the many faces of the specious focal one,

Feeling sad for the failed assurances of the loved one,

The heart soul dying with its spirits’ final obliteration

Remains with love's wraith who is overwhelmingly  loved.

© W. Heron, 2014  

Questions

Questions

Do Sirens seek to beguile with song?

Do Orcs use jagged weapons?

Goblins, are they really treacherous?

Is every Demon really a malcontent?

Do Pixies slip and slide with delight?

Are legendary Dragons ever lively?

Do Fae always dance in circuitous motion?

Whimsical Witches, do they wear breeches?

Do Trolls really seek to triumph over good?

Elves, do they just rejoice at the drum circle?

© W. Heron, 2008

Angel of Waffles

Angel  of Waffles

Winged Heron tosses a waffle in here.

Winged Heron tosses a waffle in there.

Winged Heron tosses a waffle up in the air.

Winged Heron watches a waffle adhere to a chair.

Winged Heron watches a waffle land on the stair.

Winged Heron watches a waffle stick to Hey Voom's hair.

Winged Heron thinks OOPS and wanders off without a care.

Winged Heron is back with sticky waffle poetry to share.

Winged Heron will do this with daring and more than a touch flair.

WInged Heron for a month or two was a sight, seen so rare.

Winged Heron is now back, all pretty and just as always fair.

Winged Heron has even ensured that she has paid her fare.

Winged Heron has now returned to the Death by Waffle lair.

Winged Heron after being absent is back and the Wafflers stare.

Winged Heron looks at them as if to say, "Comment if you dare!"

Winged Heron divides numerous large Waffles with a tear.

Winged Heron hands each jolly Waffler a pair.

Winged Heron eats a waffle while her Daddy prefers a pear.

Winged Heron listened to the farmer and kept the waffles from the mare.

Winged Heron likes her waffles sticky with syrup and never bare.

"Winged Heron's poem is just too much for any insane Waffler," they declare.

SO there!!

© W. Heron, 2009

Why is Winged Heron (Win) the "Angel of Waffles" you may ask? Well let me tell you of a tale of a bizarre little 3D world called "Second Life" that my sister got me involved in while she was pregnant with my nephew. Second Life or SL as it is fondly known, to distinguish from RL, which is Real Life, is a virtual world where you create an avatar or AV. This Avatar can be anything you want it to be and can have any personality or lifestyle you want. Citizens of SL come in all shapes and forms being as dark or as light as they choose. They can roleplay (RP), be themselves or be a little more than themselves if they want. 

Win is an angel, who sometimes dons her wings and halo but mostly roams around incognito. She has been a angel in a number of realms, places or groups in SL. One of Win's groups is called "Death By Waffle" which is a chat group for a bunch of nutty fun loving individuals who have a hang up about waffles and waffling on. Each of the senior or founding members was given a special role in the group, just for the fun  of it. Win, by virtue of her SL persona, naturally earned the title of "Angel of Waffles".

SO there you have it, how this mediocre poet's AV became the Angels of Waffes. Being in this group also resulted in 12 very short poems on various members of the group during a short period in 2008/2009. These were written in the tradition of Edward Lear. These belong to the lighter side of my mediocre efforts into the realm of poetry. I will post these at another time. 

I do produce other types of poems, which are often echoes of life experience, the rare dreams I have, my mood or about people I know. Some are just as light as this poem, while others can tend to be darker or sadder. Sometimes I even let the halo slip! If you choose to visit here don't be surprised that on occasions you may find some poems that are not as joyfully insane as this one. 

In the near future, I will be grouping the poetry together, as this Blog evolves into something a little more complex. This is long overdue and needs to be done in order to accommodate the eclectic nature it has developed since it was established in 2009. So feel free to leave comments or not, as long as they are constructive. As a middling poet, I strive to improve my personal style but enjoy exploring all forms, whether they rhyme or not.

The Cool Silent Circle

The Cool Silent Circle

In a circular route they swim,

Safe from the treacherous crowd,

They present a lively picture,

On waters free from jagged rocks,

Free from malcontent and fear,

They present a whimsical picture,

They beguile her as she passes by,

She stops to stare as she cannot slip,

She can rejoice that they do feel safe,

In triumph, contented they swim on.

Quack!

© W. Heron, 2008 

Ode to the Monster of Deceit

Ode to the Monster of Deceit

Hark! Ness glides with malignant ancient evil across that ageless pond,

Smirking audaciously, full with deceit, at Gallian hordes in chase,

While counterfeit gems behind Peter’s gates of fool’s gold are laid,

And the angels do but weep with dread unquenchable abandon,

At the ancient Scottish laments chanted in far flung reaches,

And at the end of a journey’s rise naught but children will despair,

While Ness still glides on perfidiously across that ageless pond.

© W. Heron, 2014

Dancing in our Dream

Dancing in our Dream

I have tripped and fallen along the way,

often thinking that even, on what I thought as safe paths,

I wandered with what appeared to be two left feet.

Don't laugh, my love, it is true.

Of course, I failed to realise though clumsy,

the evil of one, who could cause such pain in another,

to make her stumble, trip and fall in anguish and confusion.

I have written fine lines for one undeserving,

that is also true, that I know now, I admit it

all the time the words, the lines, should have been for you,

for the goodness that is you, for you are honourable.

I now take back those lines from the unworthy, my love,

and ask that though they were once tainted,

may I, in love, redeem them, make them worthy of you?

I know you are laughing at me, you always do,

especially when you know I can't catch you at it.

I'm glad you never laugh to be cruel,

only ever in merry jest, most of the time I can laugh too.

Without the magic of that part of our friendship,

I would never have thought you to be my saviour,

even though the experience of evil had made me doubt all.

I know now that you will always envelope me in safety,

I may trip on occasion, but no longer with two left feet,

my heart may still hold unbounded pain at times,

Though while you are here, it's forgotten for a time, gone.

So don't be long to answer on those redeemed words,

some already resurrected as the world can read,

so embrace and twirl me round, my love, we are ever,

Dancing in our dream.

© W. Heron, 2008

Once you were...

Once you were...

Once you were just always there...it seems;

a friend to pass…what now seem a few moments in time.

Changeovers have sadly and slowly occurred,

so, know, I find you now truly someone to depend on.

Once you were just…well…you I suppose,

of significance but not of great importance.

Now due to certain unhappy circumstances,

converted, you have become my rock... to lean on.

Once you were just like the tiny caterpillar.

Small, colourless, and not much thought of;

confined to the mediocre chrysalis of which is life.

Now you have mutated to magnificence.

Once you were only that infrequent voice,

warning me not to trust, to take infinite care.

I failed to listened, then seeking you in my despair,

trusting in you, revealed to me how you really cared.

Once you were so mediocre and damn…so very normal.

Just like any of us when we dare to face truths reality.

Your deed has transfigured your humble being,

to a state glorified in…well pure exalted brilliance.

Once you were always the quietest of achievers.

You still are very quiet, in so many respects.

Your fame is a quiet one as it is your own reflection

never to be transformed by the shadow of another’s.

Once you were so complicated in spoken word,

but with your patience, you have finally succeeded

to make me understand the substance of the deed.

Translated into much simpler...normal tones of speech.

Once you were just a touch too dour by far.

Now you remind me of those silly birds we used to watch,

all multi-coloured, curious, so raucous and so outrageous.

Transmogrified, you have become my dearest jester.

Once you were like the commonest of base metals,

of a somewhat, certain passing commercial value.

Now as if the alchemists have finally succeeded,

you are transmuted to the richness of pure gold.

Once you were just an elemental simple soul,

needing to exist only in that space in the life,

that is for a time awarded to each and every one of us.

Transubstantiated, you are now glory personified.

Once you were just there...unnoticed...I must admit.

Situations make us, I understand who we are.

You have ceased to be who you once were,

now you have metamorphosed to who you really are.

© W. Heron, 2008

Originally titled "Metamorphosis"

The Feline Villain ...

The Feline Villain...

The feline villain wakes you at six in the morning,

The feline villain insistently demands to be fed,

The feline villain abandons you for its next victim,

The feline villain ignores you once satisfied,

The feline villain enjoys the meal giving no thanks,

The feline villain walks off after seconds, also giving no thanks,

The feline villain has a mind of its own,

The feline villain lies between old windows, looking cute,

The feline villain convinces people he is ever so sweet,

The feline villain is in total control of his enslaved humans,

The feline villain has the perfect name – Pascha!!

© W. Heron, 2008

Dedicated to the dearest, beautiful, loyal feline - Pascha.

Sleep the long sleep little elegant friend, be free - 9 January 2009

Venice - Serenissima - Ancient Seductress, Ancient Courtesan

 From the apartment: a view of the Spiral Steps over the roofs of Venice 

A view of a small side canal in Venice

Gondole and a view across the mouth of the Grand Canale to San Giorgio Maggiore
Photos taken in November 2009

“We danced our youth in a dreamed-of city,

Venice, paradise, proud and pretty. 
We lived for love and lust and beauty, 
Pleasure then our only duty; 
Floating them twixt heaven and Earth 
And drank on plenty’s blessed mirth. 
We thought ourselves eternal then, 
Our glory sealed by God’s own pen. 
 But heav’n, we found is always frail, 
Against man’s fear will always fail.” 

 Veronica Franco

Niccolò Paganini: Variations on the Carnival of Venice op. 10 (violinist Marco Fornaciari)

Venice, venerable, but ever enticing with shabby elegance, she beguiles her residents and visitors as much today as she has for preceding centuries. Under numerous aliases such as Serenissima, City of Light, City of Water, Queen of the Adriatic Sea, Dominante and City of Bridges, she continues to add to her countless lovers.  Few depart  without leaving a piece of their heart and a great desire to once more be embraced by that aged but never fading grace, to emerge themselves once more in her ever fragile gracefully shabby beauty. There is no other place on earth that has seduced so many and enchanted so many others. She has very few detractors. Yes, there are other great ancient cities, new modern cities and other places that catch their residents and visitors with a passion and devotion but Venice enchants and weaves a magic that surpasses all, for she is unique and irreplaceable. She is rightly called Dominante.

Queen of the Adriatic Sea, she rides the water, under threat but with a majesty suited to such a grand old dame.   Like the grand queen of cities that she is, she has been the subject of art, great literary works and music. Like a Grand Dame she gave “birth” to some well know women such as the controversial Veronica Franco, famed as a courtesan, cultured and a poet of the 16^th century. Venice has inspired artists like Tintoretto, the gentleman of the Bellini family, most famous being Giovanni, and Titian. 

The Value of a Test for Diabetes – Why I Have My Sugar Levels Tested.

“When enough people care about autism or diabetes or global warming, it helps everyone, even if only a tiny fraction actively participate” 

 Seth Goden

The Archies - Sugar, Honey, Honey

I don’t usual post this type of thing to this blog. This is not the idea behind this one. However as yet I still need to positively develop the blog that will cover this type of topic. Here it goes anyway.

Today we had free diabetes testing provided by the VIC Medical Services where I work in Vienna. Taking advantage of the offer, I decided to have mine sugar levels tested this week instead of waiting until my next visit to my doctor.