Cyrano’s Insidious Deceit

Cyrano’s Insidious Deceit

by Hugh A Tague

His rapière merely an instrument,
one he need only play for a fool.
His swaggering panache,
few men, and less a warrior
could ever hope to own.

Wielding a pride-piercing foil of intellect.
Divesting his adversary of dignity,
shredding their vocabulary,
depriving them of all they once
thought themselves to be.

Lunging forward, Cyrano threads his foe,
releasing their soul’s bonds, leaving just
a mound of quivering flesh.
Short of a poetry-laced eulogy,
Cyrano’s passé concerto;
Le Rapière de Combat et fini.

Façade cloaked, Cyrano cast out his heart
painting a mirage with his pallet of passion.
Oblivious to the disfigured poet, the enchanted
Roxane sees only her paramour.
She sees only Christian.

Mortality concluded about the battlefield;
a cadet’s body, and the truth, forever lay cold.
Cyrano maintained le charade.
Roxane’s image inamorato intact,
she laments to unconsciousness.

15 years her confidant, Cyrano’s end in sight;
his final battle facing shadows.
The spectres, this time victorious.
Roxane found the truth as he drew his last breath;
Her heart now shattered twofold.

Insidious deceit, or honour among friends?
Lives self-sabotaged; Love and affection forever forfeit.
True love’s only antagonist: The Truth.

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Freed By My Confession

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Freed By My Confession
by Hugh A Tague

Each deep dark secret
haunts me, body and mind.
So complete is its grip
death is a welcome cure.

Dissident of humanity
riddled with man’s sin,
each binding me more
enhancing my madness.

My surroundings stark,
void of all expression.
My repressed thoughts
match my prison perfectly.

A façade of ignorance
runs rampant inside me.
Compressing the guilt
compounding my disability.

Rising to the surface
a bubbling brew of evil.
It’s pending release,
I can curtail no more.

Then it happens!
My most sacred digressions
articulated for others to digest,
degrading my personal mask.

As the pressure subsides,
pure space, or grace is created.
Light penetrates the bowels
of my once darkened soul.

From the light comes a warmth
filling a cold emptiness.
An inner peace I had not known
freedom I begrudged myself.

My bindings detached I am
carried on wings of forgiveness,
freed from my personal prison.
Freed By My Confession.

What to Say

Maya-Angelou

What to Say
by Hugh A Tague

What to say
about one whose words
have touched so many,
words not just read
and spoke out loud,
but are felt
by all they fall upon.
Words that inspired so many
to read, to write
and to see.

What to say
about one who has
not just bared witness,
but engaged in life
with a limitless vigor
few will ever know,
but for a read of our Lady Maya.

What to say
about one’s whose sight
has touched minds of
school-aged children,
as well as the minds of
men and women;
who shoulder
the weight of the world.

Four score and six years;
five of those fell silent,
for none knew better
the power of words
than she.

Perhaps all the words
that could be spoke,
or wrote,
about this great poetess
have been just that.
For even a man of words
such as myself,
I can think of but two….
Thank You.