Devil's BrewBlack and foul,
With steaming taint,
The liquid in my mug
Offends me much.
It's taste is such
It brings to mind a slug
Whose slimy trail
Does now entail
To gather at my lips.
It makes me ill,
This swirling swill
I drink with grueling sips,
This fetid funk
This juice of skunk
That doth insult my tongue.
A troll's pit sweat
Or closer yet
The essence of dog dung
Or toxic waste
Would better taste
Than this revolting brew,
And yet, alas,
I'm such an ass.
To go without won't do.
Holy LimerickThere once was a bishop of EnglandHoly Limerick6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Who liked to dress up for the weekend.
To the clergy's distress,
In his best Sunday dress
From the pulpit he'd weekly descend.
He'd preach about Moses and Noah
With shoulders bedecked by a boa
Of lavender feather
(To go with the pleather)
While the nuns all sang "Sweet Jehovah."
And none could deny he looked snappy,
Or kept his perishiners happy.
For he found that in lime
He looked simply devine!
(Though his sermons often were crappy.)
But bedecked by bangles that jangled
And earrings that sparkled and dangled,
He had more than enough
When he preached in the buff
To distract from the proverbs he'd mangled.
Now the church had not given up hope.
"We must find out a way we can cope!
It's not his cross dressing
That causes our stressing.
He keeps stealing the clothes of the pope!"
An Ode to NothingDark kisses come from pallid lipsAn Ode to Nothing6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That suck into a cold embrace
Whose frozen heart and finger tips
Would trace despair upon my face.
Id clamber hot into your arms,
With earnest hopes of thawing ice,
My molten passion making way,
Hell hot and heavy fire swarms,
A burning torch to paradise,
To guide you from the dark to day.
Strike. STRIKE. The spark it flickers faint,
And so the flame is leached of light
As down Im drawn towards dawnless taint,
And doused within your endless night,
A star turned hole to rip the skies,
A maelstrom yawning wide with need
As light roars in to fill the lack,
Then sputters, trembles, fades, and dies.
So tell me what I have to feed,
What I can throw into the black,
Such emptiness, rapacious want.
How much anguish must I bleed
To pull you to rhapsodic brunt,
Abandoning vampiric greed
That swallows life but never lives?
With glacial cold and diamonds hard
So brilliant black within your sight
To She Who Crowns...To she who crowns the laurel wreath,To She Who Crowns...6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If you had wings and pointy teeth
And nasty bites you did bequeath,
And leached life from my every limb,
Vitality upon your whim,
Well... maybe i would like you then.
But you're as fair as fairest fair,
A rarest rose without compare,
Exuding beauty everywhere,
Enthralling, mankind's sweetest flower
Blooming beauty with your power,
... and with envy, Im made sour.
How to compete with such a jewel?
I feel a toad upon my stool,
A lowly subject neath your rule.
What is the good of flashing eyes,
A face that draws from men their sighs ?
When beauty blinks, Im food for flies.
It seems you flaunt this in my face
When pulling stars from outer space.
You gift them to me in your grace,
And offer me with sweetest smile
The chance to rest with you a while,
To hand to death a firm denial,
To be a planet 'round your sun,
Reflecting light 'til life is done,
To shine a song of what weve won
As man has t
The Waking WillowWillow trees that dream at duskThe Waking Willow6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Perched beside the rivers brink
May hang their heavy branches down
Resting where the shadows slink.
Weary from the wearing world
But born to bare it, though they sink
Into the mire round their roots
And still, with thirst they deeply drink
From waters formed pon mountains high
And droplets formed from weeping skies
That watch below the whole earth die
Swallowed softly in its lies.
Just like the mire round the roots,
From which a willow tree must rise,
Mans world spreads forth its hungry hive
To eat all it can hypnotize.
And so the weeping willow cries
And bends in sorrow to the brink
Limbs shaking with the silent sighs
Grief growing from the soils stink
And sees reflected in the stream
Its rippling form held in the light
That seems to whisper of a dream
We waking walk through till the night.
When bleary sun will rest its eye
And darkness fall upon us all
Then we can look up to the sky
And hear the silver clarion call
Ode To LoveWhispers lost in gentle sighing,Ode To Love6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Blown chances hung on shallow walls,
Hearts laid broken and crying,
Tear-drops run in raging falls,
Draw me down to darkened dreaming,
Long for me in silvered night,
Hold me true in tender arms,
Paper chains bind me in seeming,
Never again will I reach that height,
When you had broken all my qualms.
Heart-felt trumpets filled with laughter,
Kissing falls on gentle lips,
Lingering honey on tongues ever after,
Drunken down in longing sips.
Your eyes of turquoise sifting skies,
Your hands of softened lightning,
Run in charges of geese across my skin,
Loose me deep in gentle sighs,
Take me to depths so frightening,
That I will forever linger within.
To bring its end, to bring its life,
Intolerably cruel and terribly kind,
It fills the world in pain and strife,
And breaks apart many a mind,
A fatal draft, a slow death dance,
A lingering poisoned scar,
A hollow wound that pierces the heart,
Distant as a shining star,
You hold me in your witless trance,
Cirrus BreakersSo feeling breakersCirrus Breakers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pass the edge
of a cirrus strewn and circular sky
In another summer
in another place
I have that bed on which to lie
In grass and thoughts; a fading trace
Of watching you
behind an eastern air.
No ancient halls of Rome did speak
of beauty like your hair
That fell in spells and drew me down
still closer to your mouth
I keep these passing moments held
Of summers in the south
EdenA haven then, set in a hillEden5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With two trees bare and unashamed.
One bore life while one could fill
A cup with thickly flowing thought
And drive the couple cursed and blamed,
From Eden or the parking lot.
To SummerRealm of new gold, and blue-hot raging sun,To Summer5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Yellow kept kingdom of the spilling fields;
Blind under burning filaments that run
Like blood from the bursting heads of corn,
As sultry woods dapple with bluebell peals
And all the summer fruits of swallows song;
Are shaded by kestrels, glaring overhead
And jealous ponds are broken by the stares;
Of swollen mayflies, peering from the dead.
Bright Hyperion, who had never seen,
The dark side of the earth give birth to thoughts
That were not vanquished by a fiery screen
Of sunrise through his airy crystal courts.
Who glowing like a distant neutron star,
Passed his hours with the lightest heart,
Of all the gods that trod an ancient path,
When fledgling then came rising Jupiter,
To fell the giant from his roaring part,
And cast him down onto an ashen hearth.
Look not upon the lion faced season
Or its brazen path for answers to life,
But take the moment to trace the horizon,
And float on the seconds flooded with light.
Drink of t
Make Like A Train, Take TracksThis is escapeMake Like A Train, Take Tracks5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(or so we'd like to believe)
taking the train through nowhere
and reaching now here. We'd hoped
for such a scape of waste
land, where the sun gutters
from the sky, and our footprints measure
not distance, but scope. Where, other
than the echoes of electric exoskeletons,
hoarse codes from broken throats,
the world is mute. Colourless.
When I talk of a landscape,
I speak of this silence:
this space, this time,
and how it means forever.
An emotion bled-out,
The Willow's StoryWalking by the waterwaysThe Willow's Story6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I spied a weeping willow,
Green of leaf but bent in grief
A masterpiece of sorrow.
Unsure of why this tree were broke
In lowered voice I softly spoke:
Willow, tell me why you weep
Do you despise the hum of flies?
Are you sick of water deep?
Do you look upon the glaring skies
And long for hollow sleep?
Human I have watched this world
Too many years in silent thought,
I've reached for stars with limb unfurled
With twigs and branches overwrought.
That lofty race was never won,
I who stretched towards the sun
Ceased to grow and now I know,
Truly I am nearly done.
For such as us live fleeting lives
And only grow so tall,
When willows reach a certain size,
Long leaves begin to fall.
This is how you find me here,
Sick from unknown ill
And is it weak to shed a tear
That all will soon be still?
Though may I ask you sit with me?
And read some rhyme out loud,
Perhaps of immortality
To lift this morbid cloud.
Forgive me Willow if you wo
III.I want you to know that you are lovely,III.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scars, bruises, crooked smile, broken heart--
You are nothing short of perfect to me
And I will keep you from falling apart.
The Aphorism of New LoveSilence hurled down the drainpipeThe Aphorism of New Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In a twirl of lust and tobacco.
I skinned my knees in the dark of night,
In a smog of nowhere to go.
I could have followed (I suppose)
If I knew his last name
Or felt the texture of his clothes
Roughly pulled off. It came
Suddenly, in the onset of adulthood
And the burgeoning stench of responsibility.
I choked at first but soon I could
Understand that he, too, was guilty.
Did I want it? Do flowers choose
To spend their last three days of life
Cloistered in stale clusters? Yet I'd lose
Too much without this. It feels right,
Uneasily steady in rapidity
And the light is brighter than it ever was
Because stars fall so brilliantly
In the aphorism of new-struck love.
The Rape of the DucklingOn my hanging balconyThe Rape of the Duckling6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Three stories overhead,
I chanced this morn to oversee,
As dawns first light was shed,
A crime that made me wince in shame
For all humanity.
A wayward youth had made his aim
The trapping of a ducky.
Now Mother Duck had brought her brood
To bask in morning sun,
And found this young man rather rude
To make her ducklings run,
But didnt grasp his full intent
Until the deed was done,
And found her ducky heart was rent
From peeps of her young one,
And fearfully she quacked, concerned
For her dear childs demise,
As thoughtlessly the young man turned
To make off with his prize,
And off he ran, his toy in tow,
Quite heedless of her cries,
As she chased after, all too slow,
Regardless of his size.
And of the grown ducks looking on,
Most aided in her chase.
Their angry, ducky hearts were drawn
To help her in her case.
And silently I watched the theft
Within my hiding place
That left the mother so bereft,
Duck frantic on her face
And never did I speak a
a desperate bout of melodyas the sun melts into streaked paint,a desperate bout of melody5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as your hands trail listlessly along my spine,
as the paper frays like twine,
i can remember your heart.
the kind of beautiful
that only exists at night
fire of skin and prowling cats
friction of hot tires
and mattresses creaking
under the weight of the love
that is made over it.
of your skin still
sticking to mine
like sugar in
the heat is quick and
i'm morning sick,
i am your flower and
won't my petals please
a sighing of a
i will love you
in the morning when
the fog paints
CampsiteCampsite5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I do not mind the feeling of icy water
In the morning on dry, chapped hands,
The scrubbing of bowls and pots with sand
In the pale autumn light.
These are the clean discomforts of life lived,
And sun warmed stones and star soaked nights can make amends
Say amen to the prayers that such days could last forever.
But I am answered never never again.
And there the knife sinks deep
As the past is waked from sleep,
Defiant and pounding its fists in anger
But the leaves of today leave concern from their color,
As bright with me as without they do not dignify my dolor
With pity for the memory
Of what makes one day full and one day empty.
"Fool," they say "All things must die in time,"
And so I stand stripped bare beneath the sky,
Inhaling wood smoke wafting in the wind,
And feel all Nature's life come to an end.
Towards the SeaWarm sea salt and ocean's brineTowards the Sea5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lifts dull spirits that contently reside
In the souls of broken pride
Rocking boats and clean white sails
Follow night's star's golden glares
To a place far, far away
Where grown youth can come to play
In one's faithful, soulful journey-
Now on the sea, there is no more yearning
We ourselves, mix into our own reality
As lone, but grateful submarines
Sinking low and diving deeper
Into a sea of equal dreamers
Towards the sea and ocean's way
Where there is no law to say
That this is what we do today
That this is what we have to face
In this sea of possibilities
Where the mind and body travel lightly
We all wait for tomorrow's wake
And towards the sea, we come to make
Future promises that we will lay
Down in stone and above the waves
And into what the sea cannot take
A simple life bound to it's way
ShapeThey have erased his fingers. He doesnt have a feeling of shape anymore.Shape6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Last night, in the carnival, when they were practicing catches by throwing their children at each other, he realized his only child was a blob of jumbled flesh.
Autumn WhispsAutumn comes with secrets in her hair,Autumn Whisps6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Auburn splendors and azure skies,
Calling with windy I love you's
To star glazed chill,
Reminding us how death can be beautiful.
She Who Is the Mystic MuseThere is a girl that lives in allShe Who Is the Mystic Muse6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She is the mystic Muse
In many guises she arrives
And will not be refused
She takes your hand, enters your mind
Manifests through the arts
Everywhere she will appear
And triumphantly departs
She is human yet she is not
Ethereal and solid is she
A thought, a face, a place, a thing
She has been seen to be a he
The Muse is subtle in her power
Her presence makes you whole
Art has come to know her well
She is the Artists Soul
Burning SongI'm burning. A yearning in the dark.Burning Song6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A spark that's waiting to ignite.
Alight. A bird is taking wing
To sing. To join the joyous dream,
This stream of all unconscious thought,
That's sought by hearts of pealing note,
In rote with all of nature's song,
A throng of all that bursts with light,
With blithe, euphoric voice that swells,
In cells that burn within the soul
The whole, which rest within the dark.