Poetry

The Face with No Name (Part II) – Her Resurrection

The Master
Holds the strings in hand,
Makes the puppet
Dance before the King.
The Jester
At his side
Watches,
Eyes alight with love.
He sees
The sorrow
Behind her painted smile.
He feels
The pain in her heart
From a life of control.
He knows
How she longs to be free,
Yet she is not strong enough.
He waits,
The Master sleeps
And the Jester approaches
His stringed love,
Alone in her cage,
Motionless without her master.
He draws
His blade of liberation,
Cuts the strings
That held her captive
For so long.
Cradling her in his arms
He looks into her eyes.
So sad,
Her heart
Bears the scars of many trials.
It is too broken
To move her body.
Turning the blade on himself,
The Jester opens his chest
Removes his own heart
And places it
In her weakened puppet form.
Her eyes
Begin to glow
With sweet new life.
The Jester’s heart
Pumps strong
Making her real.
She stirs to life in his arms.
As she returns his gaze
He says
“My love
has set you free”.
Their lips embrace
In a kiss
That lasts a lifetime.
With nothing left to give
The Jester sinks to the floor
In peaceful death.
As she kneels beside him
She weeps
Real tears
Rolling down to her chest
Where the Jester’s heart
Still beats within her
Forever and always.

A poetic response by JP Kershner.

The Face with No Name (Part I) – Her Death

She feels pain.
She’s known hurt.
She’s just like you
Except she’s not real.
She’s a puppet, merely a toy.
She is virtually useless
Unless controlled by her puppeteers.
She’s dependent upon them.
They pull the strings
And she dances.
Without their skillful hands
She would lie forever motionless.

On the outside she seems real
In her heart she is not.
She’s the pawn
And they’re the chess players.
They position her.
They play her.
They use her
To better themselves.
Her life is in their hands
And they make the choices.
If they choose wrong–
CHECKMATE!
For them the game is over
But for them, there’ll be others.
Not for her.
The game was her life
And the game is over.

She lived her life for others.
She played the puppet in their shows.
She was the pawn in their games.
When they were done with her
She was forgotten.
She existed solely for them,
But they left.
She has no choice now but to die
Because the life she lived is gone.

Counterfeit

A warm greeting,
An embrace.
A genuine smile
Upon your face

Hidden motives
Behind your eyes,
A cordial front
To mask the lies.

Quietly judging
Behind your grin.
You draw your knife
And plunge it in.

Betrayed no more,
This myth shall end.
You, my darling,
Are not my friend.

The Sinner’s Funeral

An old floor creaks,
No one cries,
In the casket
A stranger lies.

A fetid odor
Hangs within,
A former life
Wrought with sin.

A cold hand,
Stiff and white,
Staged expression,
A ghastly sight.

Dressed in black,
An empty look.
A sinner’s life
Someone took.

Sunset Daydream

Today I witness Love
Radiant for all to view
Manifested as a sunset;
I’m filled with thoughts of you.

The sun hides mischievously.
Its luminous kisses remain
Gracing the world with colors
Only Mother Earth has named.

Celestial orb shines full,
Floating above the horizon.
I doubt such majesty
Will ever befall my eyes again.

In a sea of brilliant pink
The moon dances playfully.
Stunning is its hazy glow,
When suddenly it occurs to me…

A dazzling canvas of color
Stretches across the realm,
But there is a constant presence
That outshines all of them.

It is the electric color
Of a newborn child’s eyes.
It’s the color of the tears
A tropical ocean cries.

Safely upon his shoulders
All other colors stand.
He lifts them toward the heavens
With a gentle loving hand.

So marvelous, yet so familiar,
I know this patient blue.
Out of nowhere a warm embrace,
In a sunset I have found you.

Then completely the sun descends
And darkness claims the sky.
Your touch it fades until it’s gone
And again you say goodbye.