MasksWhen a smile is a frownMasks3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And a frown is a smile,
The eyes we must crown
For relinquishing wile,
When a laugh is a tear
And a tear holds no pain,
Will fear fear to fear
And fearfully abstain?
When the act is the truth
We've lied to believe,
And the fable in sooth
Is but a peerless weave,
When each mortal mistake
Is a tale and a song
And the scriptures are fake
Or perhaps they're wrong,
When the mind is the eye
That sees the outside
But shame, it's too shy
Of the tongue which has lied,
When the answers are easy
To the questions unknown,
Do you not feel queasy
Of how little we've grown?
When acceptance is feigning
For it keeps us alive
Like sunshine to greenlife
On deceit we thrive,
When certainty is in doubt
And fiction is a fact,
The truth may come out
But is it ever intact?
When can mere candor
Hold its frail fort,
When all this slander
Plays such a good sport,
When can we speak without a plan
And in our authenticity bask,
When the mask becomes the man?
Or when the man becom
GoodbyesA shy hello begins the tale,Goodbyes3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Two strangers in a play,
A quiet word, a moment's care
Brings back the mirth of May,
And then a smile, a borrowed laugh,
Perhaps a happy tear,
Life's woes are few, its gifts renew,
But they don't last, my dear.
Such weeping I have often seen;
So many fruitless tears,
And yet a question I have asked
Met silence through the years.
Alone the crave, alone the grave;
All pain is pleasure's loan,
We come with naught, and thus depart,
Tell me, what do we own?
We are wildflowers in the breeze
A breath of father time,
And in the hue, in wanton dew
Perhaps there is some rhyme,
And for a spell, we briefly brush
And love and live in vain,
But one by one we must wave on
To never meet again.
Sonnet XIDear Death, thou art shunned, yet I welcome thee,Sonnet XI3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I fear not thy shade nor thy trailing shroud,
Whilst mankind greets thee with a teary plea
I shall embrace thee like a monsoon cloud.
Why men fear thy presence I cannot say,
Nor discern why in thy company, weep,
For life bears us all: love, woe, ceaseless sway,
But death, kind death, cares for every man's sleep.
My love for thee exceeds mortality,
And as seasons sweeten the sweetest wine,
Lend my fruitful years to vitality
And I shall remain eternally thine.
Ring my vows from my grave O timeless wife
We eloped at birth for the afterlife.
The Fall of EpithilinonIThe Fall of Epithilinon2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Let no man speak of wars whence
No answer graced our call,
Let man remember gods thence
Gods, watchful of our fall;
Speak in silenced sighs, men,
Dead men hither sleep,
No flag here flails, amen, amen!
Who can ever beweep
Our brethren in the deep.
Frightened colours breached the sky,
The church bells played a dirge;
The bustling hills and vales so nigh
In crimson rage did merge,
Archers with crescents held high
Keen arrows fell like sin,
The portcullis in sorrow, shy
Interred our fathers in
The last grave of our kin.
Wailed the night in thunder blare;
The mangonels did come,
Lonely trumpets singed the air
When Earth ravished our home;
The eastern tower, wasting wear
For a trebuchet did bow,
Fallen stone and ballista bare
Broke its stony vow,
As the beadle mopped his brow.
Mildly armoured, men at arms
Stormed the brazen fray,
Howled the castle’s cold alarms:
Ladder men up the brae!
Blazed in ire the fields and farms:
The winter’s yield was spent;
A Villanelle on ExistenceNothing in life is ever thineA Villanelle on Existence3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Except that old reclusive mind,
You are yours and I am mine.
Such is creation's sole design
Give mankind sight but render blind,
Nothing in life is ever thine.
Solitary is every shrine
In which existence is confined,
You are yours and I am mine.
Lonely are they who walk the line
And yet they know it is defined:
Nothing in life is ever thine.
Aloof the jackal sits to dine
And prey, in prayer does remind:
You are yours and I am mine.
As though birth and death lent no sign,
It takes man all his days to find
Nothing in life is ever thine,
You are yours and I am mine.
On Platonic LoveThat love is beautiful,On Platonic Love3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The apple on the tree,
Which endures every famine,
Yet lets the apple be.
That love is plentiful,
The sea that hugs the shore,
Which meets solely at the brink,
Yet returns ever more.
That love is contentful,
The twine of You and Me,
Which clasp our eternal strings,
Yet ne'er to become We.
So Will YouMy dear friend why do you dwell in the dust,So Will You4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Do you think the world will wait for both of us?
I see these have been rather difficult times,
Let me try to ease your pain with a rhyme.
So what if you have failed again?
Tell me, so what, if yet again, you are beat?
Victory is a place you will reach,
Once you cross the stepping stones of defeat.
It doesn't matter how many times you fall,
As long as you get back up and stand tall,
Through thick and thin they made it through,
And I can see it in your eyes, so will you.
Once upon a time a young newspaper artist got fired,
For lacking good ideas and imagination,
So what did he do? He drew a mouse!
And then Walt Disney became a sensation!
"You call this comedy? This is nonsense!"
Said his penurious audience and his rapacious acting staff,
He sat down and cried silently in the rain,
And then Charles Spencer Chaplin made the world laugh.
A dismayed father roared at his son,
"Can you not even identify the treble from the base clef?"
Sonnet XVIWhen life smites me in its wavering courseSonnet XVI3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And colder than winters my winters be,
I look upon Woe with tearful remorse
And wish he would bewail to comfort me.
Yet, tears take a man, and a man alone
Such is the nature of inner downpour
And empty the foyer, vacant the throne
When stormy seas conquer the untrained shore.
Yet, while I speak to airy winds in verse
My rightful purpose I do once more find,
And in frightful pleasure I bless my curse
And to my life, whisper,"Thou art too kind".
To every loved patron my word I give:
Life's will be undone, for thee I shall live.
To Drink!Thou eternal drop of paradise!To Drink!3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Thy wick of love in snowy eyes
Has lit the coals of restless time,
Again alit the poet's rhyme
Which grows amidst the winter tide
Lest all asleep with morning's bride,
And yet the quill shall never die
And passion's juice will never dry,
For man was made for mellow pleasure
To drink to Bacchus and his treasure.
Thou joyous trickle of delight!
Lurid friend of the sparkling night,
Thy gleam befriends foregoing scars
And echoes aglow the distant stars,
As longing lips assail the tears
Of Aegir's sweetened blend in years
And parched the throat undone by speech
Will breach the reason bound by reach,
And then the warm vaporous rays
And mankind through her Maker's gaze.
Thou fountain of unravished grace!
A flagon lent Beauty a face,
And art will dwell forever more
Where genteel meets the jagged shore,
Frolics adrift the fluent brew
Every violet Baudelaire grew,
And nestles along the golden bay
The voice of a lost Hemingway.
What joy, what bliss, what cheer, what
Something's MissingI will not miss you like a child misses a blanketSomething's Missing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or a year misses a season which has just passed
or as childhood is remembered from furrowed brows;
the parched lips that had once drunk from
the fountain of youth.
nor will I miss you like a widowed lark
that stays up all night believing in
melodic necromancy -
- I do not believe in such things,
as I do not believe in a god I forsook,
when I realized I did not miss him
as I missed the comfort of ignorance,
Nay, I cannot miss you like a poem misses its muse
which miss her till eternity dies
or a juvenile favour that leaves one
benevolent and misses benevolence for all of its days.
Instead I must miss you like an accepted part of every day -
- the ticking of clocks, the buzzing of gadflies,
the first few moments after awakening that misses a dream
or the Korean vase upon the chiffonier
which misses last week's dahlias
or the street dog misses its late keeper-of-crumbs
or an ink quill misses the words it bore
or a poet m
In MemoriamThe guardian ghosts, ghosts of our great men goneIn Memoriam2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
await above, await your advent's song,
The skylark's cry has vexed this vivid morn;
her notes denote in notes that know no wrong.
The ample ale of amber allium art
is milked by million minions of her shine,
Her radiance reigned, rained ray drops dart by dart
on fallowed fields, fields flood with floral wine.
Lie you now, now lie you near no night;
The calling candles clear collected scars,
The sun still sates the sweat of sheltered sight;
You belong, belong by better stars.
War Woundthere's a war wound in my chestWar Wound2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that I cradle in my heart
and nurse it with parables
never grows up.
sometimes I feed it vanities,
a glass of Scotch or two
but in the morning's residue
it reflects no summer truths.
there's a war wound in my chest
which sought shelter in my soul
now it lies as an attic masterpiece
for the years to unfold
the colours have aged with me
rubric to rust to puce
and this work of art upon my heart
for the artist's eyes.
there's a war wound in my chest
which fell our company
but I who saw the shot and shell,
know it well indeed.
for he assigned us nameless,
no rank, no class or creed,
but then the lance of simple chance
wiped out our battery.
and I who fell for our comradery
did no favours for thee
I beheld the appetite of infancy
and lived for mortality.
Perfection is an IllusionPerfection is an illusionPerfection is an Illusion3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As heaven is to Earth,
A painted cloudy paradise
Inspired by human dearth.
Flawless is the pole star
Leading man to fabled land,
Still distant the Polaris
From man's conceited hand.
Yet perfection's only flaw
That it will never know,
Perfection appears resplendent
Draped in fault's shadow.
A Walk through Burleigh Wood on a Spring EveningTwo wanderers pursued a lonely trailA Walk through Burleigh Wood on a Spring Evening2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Beneath a truss of banished tears;
Avast! A distant hazel pale
Endured the evening's mewling gale:
A welcome sight for Eden's exiled peers.
A sprightly saunter down the virgin pass
Brought forth a sea of lorn bluebells,
The heavens weaved through earthly grass
Where silent vespers did amass
To worship springtide's sudden winsome spells.
A timeless tinkling of bereft azure
Withdrew the curtain of decline,
And once two rovers stood demure,
Now children, elegant and pure
Walked side by side in that secluded shrine.
In that wild ever eclipsed winding wood
Was heard the bluebell's soothing knell:
It tolled for time one understood,
In that slight glade of each childhood
A star espoused the season's first bluebell.
Ode to BoredomThe timeless ticking angels sing tonight:Ode to Boredom2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A passe void vacancy in my soul;
The harboured scow seduced the lusty night
And oceans shall midwife its mournful foal,
That bastard child of joy, credence and love
Has pierced my fruitful clouds of scanty woe,
Now pours this blankness bleak into a cleft
That nurses the moments that close the clove;
And life; it happened such a long time ago
With blueprints of balance trite and bereft.
An aging day emerges from the dark;
Its hollowness numbs every conscious sense;
There is no pecking on the sodden bark
And the kinglets have found another fence;
The wind has carried a young maiden's voice,
Who once whispered to me,'Remember me?';
I could not then, oh comely faithful muse!
In times of cheer how quiet our rejoice
And grains of grief we save for poetry
And spare nothing for time's timely recluse.
The spheres still walk the selfsame path of stars,
The mist still blinds the beggared stanger's road
The fire still frolics between blushing
Words UnspokenIn these lives of parodies,Words Unspoken4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In these times of bitter dreams,
We speak in elegies
As the churchyard resonates with peace.
In the womb of the autumn breeze
There lie the things we never say,
Like once proud amber leaves
Which fly away, oh so far away.
Of thoughts too queer to speak
And words suppressed that ceased to be
And the love that made us bleed,
T'was but too frail to be freed.
In our cowardice and pride
Those pretences of our own device,
We hurt and made them cry
And found no need to apologize.
All the times that we stood still
As tyrants drew blood from every kill
And this world never made any sense
Oh but we stood in cloyed silence,
But someday a time will come
When the caskets of our lost words
Will shatter with feelings unspent
And haunt us to our graves,
So for all the lies and silent nights,
The days we've failed to bare our souls,
For all the hearts, bled and broken,
This one's for all the words unspoken.
The Joy of SorrowWeep gently, for perchance you weepThe Joy of Sorrow2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Cull not the season’s ample rain;
Few ills so slight in sorrows sleep-
-The wise joys in exalting pain.
Weep gently, in passionate silence weep
Bleak tears for form and symmetry,
In nature’s want of balance, weep
And welcome: what must be, must be.
Weep gently, if you have to weep:
Limn crystal woe on a bare face;
What’s lost in loss, in loss do keep
Till Hector is brought home in grace.
Weep gently, weep the mortal’s weep,
Exile old winter from your breast,
Weep gently, in rueful joy do weep,
Till tears bequeath each epoch’s best.
Satisfaction is a ShadowSatisfaction is a shadowSatisfaction is a Shadow3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
So near and yet so far,
Which yearns for yet another moon
And feeds on every star.
The rich remain forever poor
And the poor; truly rich,
And heaven falls to sordid waste
Curing Man's endless itch.
More copious than the cosmos
Yet once a pinch of snuff,
Has humanity forgotten
Enough was once enough?
Take Me BackTake me back to the mountains againTake Me Back3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Where the world's an icy dream,
Far away from mankind's stains
Where life goes on through ageless veins
And nature reigns supreme.
Take me back to those snowcapped peaks
Among many a wav'ring cloud,
By the gushing crystal creeks
Whence heaven hath kissed Earthly cheeks
Far from the madding crowd.
Take me back to that tranquil place,
The mountains and me, a-twain,
Where admist unpolished grace
I shall deeply savor a snowy embrace
And live to climb again!
HopeIn every grain of billowed sand,Hope4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In every drop of aurora dew,
In every flake of withered flint
And every leaf of an aging Yew,
In a solitary nook that lies long forgotten
Or a deserted niche, so vacouous and void,
She awaits with forbearance rivaling those
Who have looked into the Gorgon's oculi,
Lighter than a feather,
Oh lighter than a zephyr,
Yet no baton, bullet or blade
Can ever touch her,
When we are callously abdicated
And forsaken in the pouring rain
A quiet melifluous voice says
"Fret not, for I shall remain",
She has no home, no resting abode
Nisi jarred hearts and jagged souls,
Yet she is not a tramp, a hauntless hobo
Always ubiquitous to the alone,
She is a drop of rain in the relentless desert,
A teeny isle in the torrential sea,
She is the brightest star in the darkest night,
The ulterior tutelary of you and me,
So when vile voluptous villianous luck,
That perpetually equivocating fiend
Leaves you in a nightmare within a dream
And moves on to flirt with anothe
Winter is ComingI hear the wind's raspy requiemWinter is Coming3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bid farewell to a long lost friend,
What melancholy strains touch my eyes
As I hear the last song of a flute
Which plays in melodies of ache
From the heart of seasons past,
Nature's bled, yet ne'er this hue
And amber cloaks the morning dew.
Weakening wings that turn and tear
In hope of quietus or sunshine
Relay in fear, both near and far
A hundred tales of golden days,
And by and by, a vengeful mist
Settles over the dying land,
There are no more tales to tell
As open the gates of a colder hell.
And time shivers the night away
In spasms of rain, hail and snow,
And the feeble day lies in slumber
Shy to clear his strident throat,
Enfevered are the Graces
That dressed the rich yesterday,
Mother Nature does the poorest save;
Few beds are warmer than the grave.
The last leaf prances in the air
Free from the manacles of birth,
And now the quiet hours approach
Of solitude and remembrance.
A whisper sheaths another quill,
A prayer weaves another will,
A Wedding GuestAs I sat in black as a wedding guestA Wedding Guest3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Oh what emotions lashed at my aching chest,
Alas! If I could free through poetry
The words that would bleed me dry of thee,
Nay, humble letters could never say
What my heart felt after a lifetime of flay,
And the dream that was so dulcet and deep
Was but another's to cherish and keep,
Where among all our golden days
Did I lose creation's propitous rays?
And now under the shade of darkest sable
I realized life was no lover's fable,
All our days and all our years
That bore along both smiles and tears
Were priceless cherubic memories
Or just wildflowers in the breeze,
And so I sat amidst the cheer
As cheerful as one could appear,
Yet was I now, rootless as a cloud,
Just another face in the crowd?
What crueler fate could this life lend
Before it's requisite blissful end,
To make a man play his part
And celebrate the breaking of his heart.
From the marshy corner of my eye
I saw her standing meek and shy
And woe on me for keeping my seat
And grounding my
BeautyBeauty is the eye's only foeBeauty3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
And solitary friend,
Blindsighted the eyes do follow
The muse's subtle wend,
That fatal pool that doth reflect
Narcissus till his end,
Kissed each word of poet's select
That Byron ever penned,
Which gently held with peerless grace
Raphael's tainted hand,
And scripted upon Helen's face
Fair Troy's fall to sand,
And blessed man's immortality
In his loyal pursuit,
Yet, restrained sweet Aphrodite
And man from Eden's fruit.
In your garden yesterdayIn your garden yesterdayIn your garden yesterday2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
which you lodge among many loves:
a gentle, wishful sway
below the florid eaves;
I noticed the quiet leaves
had weathered each cruel ray
to foster the foxgloves
that flowered today.