How the Monarchs Were Silenced

How The Monarchs Were Silenced

How can I speak to her, without a good game to proclaim,

All I know is I’m feeling weak and I can’t remember my own name

How is it that a woman’s resolve is so sternly and ferocious,

That my tongue is unreservedly taut and my body is aflame


This slick, hair-triggered wit I rely upon was clearly miscast

So I look past the hanging mirror, to what’s inside the glass

Reflections are so empty, a shell of what’s out of focus

Misshapen and cracked, is the image that should not be cast


I recollect that public house though, that skimming candlelight

The oaken table grit, how it felt, all the contexts of that night

I still smell the traces of perfume, the tones of rose and hibiscus

How those sweet and subtle hints stoke like a summer twilight


All through those summer nights of velveteen she slept by my side

And each night anew our ever-evolving lanes would coincide

She was not the wittiest interest, nor an idiot, but on litmus

There was a simplicity about her, a temptation that was dignified


Was there any implication that she and I were considered an item

I cannot deny that, she lit the candle inside me that persists as ignited

And it burns bright and true, and warm like the hearthside of a poet

Like one who’s pen has returned to the wild after years of asylum


The tales woven by majestic yarns are filled with epos and might

Resplendent flights that scaled over multitudinous heights

The minutiae of which are whispered to be the privileged,

Needed sagas of the most heroic journeys and most romantic plights


As you know the adoration of love is not an easy exploit to commute

Impulsive butterflies developed are just as easy to confute

But if broken down, in the simplicity of everyday in focus

Life becomes the hours you are willing to spend in pursuit


The worship of such a noteworthy union is akin to that of tales of fairies,

Such fables do exist, but are nestled in the cedar shelves of libraries

Is it metaphor that glitzy swallowtails present in my stomach as explosive

Or do those who have such lush imagination become beneficiaries


Yet I am stuck convalescing from a dreamlike trance, unable to speak

The inner walls of my stomach caromed by those million wings unique

All waiting to be freed, throwing caution to the wind, but still, they remain unnoticed

And with her, I can’t wait to get rid of them and find the fulfillment we seek


True love is the curbing and silencing of such fearmongering insects

The closer we envelop into one another, those glitter-filled, nerve bugs defect

Until a few pesky monarchs in the pitted kingdom are left homeless

Then just then, undying devotion can take the helm and reflect


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Paul Neglia
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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

12 thoughts on “How the Monarchs Were Silenced

  • May 7, 2020 at 4:38 PM

    Incredible verse Paul. Tucked within perfect rhythm and line is a very complicated story of love. Well penned. I hope you are well. Jamie

    • May 8, 2020 at 4:16 AM

      Thank you so much Jamie. Yes all is well on the homefront. How are you and yours?

  • May 8, 2020 at 6:36 PM

    We are fine. The kids are with Mom for Mother’s Day and I am spending the day with my mom going through a drive thru. I am glad you are ok. Jamie

  • May 8, 2020 at 6:42 PM

    That is good to hear. Stay healthy my friend.

  • May 10, 2020 at 12:12 AM

    Beautifully penned poetry, Paul. I love the story woven throughout and the title.

    • May 10, 2020 at 8:54 AM

      Thank you very much John. Glad you enjoyed it. Hope all is well

    • May 18, 2020 at 8:08 AM

      Thank you so much Kurt.

  • May 13, 2020 at 12:38 AM

    Paul, as always, your excellent phrasing creates a verse that is emotive and enjoyable to read. Well done.

    • May 18, 2020 at 8:09 AM

      Thank you so much Phyllis I’m glad you enjoyed this.

  • May 18, 2020 at 9:07 PM

    Truly eloquently descriptive verse of the magnificence of a woman. No man, can truly define the definition of amour, it’s felt, smelt, tasted and lingers on our lips, tongue, embrace, hearts and soul. The beauty that is a woman in so many ways, no words can fully describe. Yet, you my poetic genius with the pen of a refined, tutored poet have the grace, wit and sharp keen eye of observance. You capture the true beauty of contentment, you wallow in the glow of the mystique of beauty. You challenge every woman with your delightful coloring between the lines of who they truly are. A species that we mortal men can not do without. They challenge us to become the man they want us to be, we dance like drunken marionettes in their presence, we fumble and trip on our lengthy tongues and words, yet we truly are in awe of them, our second rib removed and fashioned for them to do as they wish, they control us and we accept them, why? because without their tasty nectar, their perfume that lingers with us after a spent evening, we can’t remove that yearning for more of them. So, we pen, we lament, we cry, we bleed our souls until we can be back together in their outstretched welcoming arms, for without a woman in our lives we are empty, we are less than half a man, we are crushed. So my poetic genius, I have come in here to say, I am encouraged by your wise words, I am just a humble man seeking tenderness from that elusive butterfly we call female. They make our hearts flutter, their powder from their magical wings, lift us up beyond ourselves and take us into flight with them. We together are but locked blue elusive butterflies in eternity.

    • May 19, 2020 at 8:59 PM

      My friend it is so good to hear from you again. I hope all is well with you and yours. I’ve missed your amazing comments and hope to see you more on my pages. Female in every shape and form is such an amazing mystery to discover and I was just hoping to do them justice. Thank you so much for your kind words Vincent.


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