Other Poetry
A cornacopia of poetry
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I’ve lots of poems of poetry They flutter in the breeze. Of Humpty and of Dumpty too. The mouse is in the tea. I’ve had them all inside my head Just waiting to emerge. Some I’ve stored there for some years They mostly all converge And then come out just how they do I have…
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A windswept, vacant verdant field…
Where all my dreams reside— Secrets that I dare not yield! I’d rather keep inside. Although I let its grasses grow, I rather think the world Of that verdant, windswept field Of Nature’s grace unfurled—
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Your eyes Are the miles between us And your lips, My eternal seduction. If Shakespearean Verse is more your thing, have a go through the sonnets I have on here. You can easily find the next one by searching the number of it in the series. ex: search: ‘two’.
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You’re testing me I see Can I do this thing without you? Well, see that’s the thing about you, You will see that I’m about to. I’ll pass it, you will see. See, I’ll pass with flying colors And I’ll ask you for another. One cannot be the other. Don’t you wish you told your…
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That it could quickly be arranged That we could soon become estranged If I were drunk enough to count. Alas but I am not And all the wrath that it has wrought! Too often I have thought It more important to surmount The question of what’s really there And if we’re Fred Astaires, Dancing on…
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I Damn Near Thought I Loved Her…
instapoetry, love, love poem, love poetry, lyric, ode, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry community, poets, rhyme, sonnet, verseShe damn near robbed me blind. She wanted less than I could give Our spirits weren’t aligned. Though some would call me crazy, I realized even then That she just did not challenge me. A surface love of skin— And though I gave and gave and gave All that I had to give, She drained…
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What is there left when hope is gone? How do we go on? When knowledge enlightens, The horror is revealed. Then one must live with the sins of the rest. And somehow try to sleep. Fellowship is what we have. Love is left when hope is gone. Togetherness. We don’t need All the things They…
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To etch feelings Into semi permanence in some vain attempt at capturing them? What purpose do words serve? Can you place them in an order That will evoke the feeling That spawned them? No, and what does writing do to our stories? First the scribes which was only slightly less abrasive Than the printing press…
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A defensive pose assumed ? When all that’s on my mind is to Gently pluck thy blooms? Why is red your hue of choice When yellow’d do as well? Do you, when coy bees visit you, To them, your secrets, tell? And when is a rose surely a rose And not a dandelion? My nose…
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What a curious universe we are you and I What a curious place it may be. Astounding coincidences — evidence nigh. A feature with eyes that can see. Still limited so are our senses albeit We can’t even seem to agree. We perceive little that truly exists There’s so much around we can’t see! Reality…
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Tonight’s the nightYou’ll die of fright.For all the ghoulsCome out tonight.They’ll get you ifYou don’t take care.They’ll boil your brains—Your derriere!“Come one, come all!A feast,” they’ll say“We’re having oneTo end the day.And cocktail toes and eyeball stewAre choices on the ghoul menu.”You try a nibble of some bread,“Replete with mold!” the main ghoul said.“And have…
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Gaia speaks in the whisper of the breeze. Tune in to the rhythm of the spirit of the Earth. Benjamin Stone
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She was 17 and serpentine and so serene I was 10 ft tall but kinda small though not at all She cried in alarm I meant no harm on this here farm She said she had eggs and then she begged right on my legs “Please don’t eat them all, oh 10 ft tall, not…
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Come gather round, children. There’re stories to tell. My time here is finite. And yours a springwell. We shall talk Beowulf Grendel, his foe— We shall talk Shakespeare And Normans And Rome. And we shall talk England And harbors of tea. A great many things Have I to tell thee. So come gather round let…
Musings of the Mad 