Tag: poetry
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King of fools
True true the poet says.False false I bend my bread.Up the wall out the hedges.On the peak and over the edges.Nonsense chased me up and down.Seeking me to place its crown.Upon my brow and dub me king.Lord of fools has its ring.Did I run? flee or shout?No! I simply sat about.Sluggard, fool, and wicked too,But…
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Jabberings
Rhythm, rhyme, reason.Life is music, a dance, a song.Division, a single point, into three.Emphasis, weight, meaning.Words too heavy to be spoken as one.
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Music
Tempo in flight, winging its way, over mountains, through valleys, across skys.On the wings of a violin I fly. Hummingbird quick. Soaring with the trumpets.My wings cannot carry, the destination is too far, the air too thin, the sun too bright.The orchestra is but a fragment of a key to the gates of heaven.The smallest…
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poems by the lakeside
The Glimpse I walked a dry lake bed on a misty day Grey clouds shifted slowly in the sky giving no hit of warmth of sun A thick mist had risen and drifted, cover and uncovering at its whim Skeleton trees reached with their boney fingers trying to grasp the veil Perhaps to wear. It…
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Tied up.
I tie myself to you, I bind with self with words of affection, With subtle touches I draw you in. At first it was threads, small looks, witty jests. Your soul and mine travel the same path. “Here is one I could love,” said my mind. Shoe laces and yarn tied us, closer we grew. …
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Immeasurable.
Who is it that shapes me? Makes me new. Changes the old dead man within, to one of life and youth. What do men see of me? What truth is known of my soul. I am a shadow of what I was meant to be. Greater Men than I have fallen, and greater men fall…
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Bad poetry on an empty stomach and brain.
Labor oh man, shovel coal into thy furnace. Feed the fires, fan the flame. Labor oh man, break boulders into dust. Chisel away, shape thy life. Labor oh man, but do not labor in vain. What costs righteousness? What price for goodness? Your life, and soul, for all eternity. Labor oh man, forget Him not. …
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Sponge Brain.
My mind is like a sponge Under pressure all my thoughts are squeezed out. They run down the drain into my stomach where they reek havoc with my digestion. In gastric intestinal distress I stand, thoughtless, aloof. Thank God for the proverb Even a fool will be thought wise if he keeps his mouth shut.
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Melodrama
The delicate line between melodrama and cynicism is spider silk thin. I seek to walk that line. Yet how can a poet hope to balance on such a tightrope? Can the cynic ever find anything good or true? Melodrama. Sinking into a mire of feelings, disregarding probability. Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has…
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Why I’m right and you’re wrong.
My dear friend. I am right and you are wrong. Read it in the stars, see it written the clouds inscribed on the souls of all those righteous people. How could I be wrong? The world revolves around me. All who disagree shall be cast out of my gracious presence into the outer darkness, where…
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