The Summit by Danielle Que

(this is a poem that I dedicate for the Mount Everest climber David Sharp who died while descending from the summit. He was still alive but barely moving and 40 climbers had passed him by without even helping him.)

The Summit (David Sharp 1972 - 2006) by Danielle Que

Here, rested his dome-shaped ice
My days gone by, without air
As footsteps slowly ahead rise
Of my ill fated dream and fair

It was souls, not flesh and meat
Descended along rocky sides
High above my freezing fleet
It froze and was eaten by tides

Here I am, sleeping, but alive
Sit here though, he slowly dies
Go on further, never the pride
As I slowly paid the algid price

Those who have forgotten near
And those who continued on
Those voices I warmly hear
As his loneliness had me done

Gone were the days I miss
As I lay here on your beauty
Hoping for your fevered kiss
My hands frostbitten and empty.

Holy Person

Sainthood: Virtues of Summer by Danielle Que
 
  Amongst the crowd art tallt thy virtues of summer, 
Sat ardent above Faith, conforming thy disoriented blander
One, sadly, did not though, instead looked upon me yonder
Regally glared at me I hope not. Contemptous, contending and sober
Love not hate, malice nor dislike, yet  a docile one, yes, love.  
Honned thy fardest throttlehold army, a dearest virtue to me
Which youngsters from my town seek love from thee
Do find, that virtue that looked upon me, 
Standing still, I smiled, frolicked about agast prayers undone
My sainthood, My virtues, except one.
   

Red Roses (Short Story. NOT YET FINISHED) by Danielle Que -21

“She did this! Hah! I knew it! Patricia, darling, never underestimate that ‘un. Very vile!”, Erzebeth ranted while gathering the silky curtains to the side exposing the vibrant 7 am sun.

“ Mother must you wake me up this early? You’ve gone mad!”

“Not mad dear! Angry! I knew it from the very first time I laid my eyes on that spinster!”

“Will you cut if off. I’ll hear the rest when I’m fully awake.” Patricia drew the blanket up covering her face much to the annoyance of her mother.

“Why did I deserve all of these? You ungrateful child! Better be up after 10 minutes!”

“Mother! Just go out and do something instead of bothering me!”

Erzebeth slammed the door shut and Patricia was left alone still with half-closed eyes peering through the blankets checking if her mother had gone out. She just doesn’t understand why old women go insane about flowers and they go madly insane after noticing a single bud been cut off by some neighbor. She had to listen to her mother’s useless word of the day rants for an hour at the breakfast table. Erzebeth notices about everything and complains almost about everything! Patricia's much the opposite, she, being satisfied by what she have and doesn’t have. Her father always ignored Erzebeth every time she babbled about things that are not even, in human terms, very relevant. She has to bear with it until she graduates college and finally settling on her own.

“Hah! Did you see her face?”, her mother said in joy while sipping her cup of coffee. “That woman! She knew that I knew!”

“Mother. Please not today. You’ve been blowing out pile of worthless air about Amanda since yesterday.”

“If she had not cut my pretty red roses I would have been nice to her! You know that Patricia! I’m nice! But some tend to be the kind that takes your nice attitude for granted!”

“For God’s sake she just lost her sister! Give her a break mother!”

“She lost Felicia three months ago. She must have gotten over it already and decided to sell my roses! Poor me!”

Unbelievable! Her mother was so unbelievably emotionless! Patricia nearly choked by what she had said. Good thing she has higher tolerance compared to that of her mother. Erzebeth was a prodigal daughter. She was born into a rich family who spoiled her with stuffs. Luckily, Patricia’s father never had second thoughts upon marrying women like Erzebeth. Patricia noticed her father approaching and carefully lifted the fork to her mouth.

“What is it this time darling!”, Ramon Rodriguez asked after hearing all that has been said.

“Can you believe it! That woman! And my roses! My poor roses!”

“Aren’t you just being childish my dear?”

“Childish you say? Tell that to your daughter.”

Ramon’s eyes turned towards Patricia who continued on eating. He just let out a heavy sigh and started to eat.

“Must you worry with such small things?”

“How could I not Ramon? They’re my babies!”

“You can grow them easily!”

“Easily you say? Men! Men are only talk! They don’t know anything about women!”

Patricia stared at her mother, “Don’t include me with the women you’re talking about. Please.”

“You cold brat!”, her mother displayed a very displeased look on her face. “Having such kind!”

“Hush you two it’s breakfast. You can argue after this. I must first go to work.”

“You’re crazy Ramon! Look at your daughter! Not respecting me!”

“I’m sorry but I still have school. I’ll go first.”, Patricia got up quickly and walked away leaving her mother astonished by her attitude.

“Look at that! You’re so easy Ramon! Very easy!”

“Stop that Erzabeth! Jesus it’s early in the morning and you have to sound like a train!”

“Look at both of you! Much alike! Suit yourselves!”. Erzebeth got up furiously dropping the table napkin on the table.

Ramon just ignored her wife’s childishness. He always loved her and understood her attitude. Erzebeth is really nice once you dig deeper into her personality, her tastes and even her dislikes. At times her temper easily snaps and she would be this totally different person. He just stared at her daughter while walking away the dining room. It must have been hard for Patricia who had always been very humble despite the fact that she was to become the heiress of the company. His thoughts went deeply. Or was it that she doesn’t really want to run the company after he dies? Patricia was always mature for her age. She can’t be easily read, but Ramon always understood what her daughter wants, and he had to deal with it even if it means that Patricia, his only daughter, has to quit the family business.

**TO BE CONTINUED

The Worshipper by Danielle Que -21

Intrepid soul, in eternal lust

Of ever loyal faith and love

Her nails perforate, dug deeply

Deeper and deeper, down

It goes

Impinging every bones

She scowled, her intimidating voice

In this vast bareness

Her soul tightly clutched

On mid-air’s



Fragrant succulent youth

Ever dauntless panache

This cold misanthropic maiden

The Queen by Danielle Que -21

Mother was I not the queen

Long before you had been?

White satin across my chest

And velvet suit for my dearest

White flowers around my head

Silver blanket for my royal bed

Icy storm whenever I walk

A nightingale whenever I talk

Red carpet towards my throne

A nymph to every single dawn

Golden casket for my father

Silky red gown for my daughter

Mother it must be me

Whom you made the world see

A queen before you had been one

Whose head rested your crown.

The Black Lake by Danielle Que -21

Lay the maiden’s flowers on the road

Her toes gliding along with her silk

The fiery rubies and cardinals warble

Swans in saltation, her sanctuaries tilt

Rest unfold here, maiden, with your light

Old peaceful stars that had grown deep

Let them eat your lonely fate and time

As you sink with the flowers beneath

Let your hair be your life and stillness

And your silk be your coffin and chamber

Let the lake sink beneath with you

And wrap your hands with its leather

Oh maiden be! This time, a holy saint

Hidden throughout the autumn year

Where black silk and flowers die alive

With the lake and its Godly sheer.

Colourless by Danielle Que -21

When souls dance to an acrid tune

Up they fly, down they go

Their skirts, all blades in iron shine

Their halos trailing spineless time

Its richness in colour, pearly white

Rising above, higher and higher

And lust runs over the common night

Out, a lover, a foolish wanderer

When death’s chariot is around

And these souls plunge beneath

Just one acrid tune! These souls abound!

They rise, their skirts scintillate

Up they fly, down they go

Till the lover is safe and sound

Vulnerable, dense and love-stricken

All the more, they ease around.