It was a time ov thirst, crepuscle zearchin,
the Count in dark, becharmed her every secret zeal;
vatever aappened to his favoroured virzzin?
Vatever aappened to his crimson meal?
My bite I'll hold to thine exquisite neck,
(In Transylvania I'm vaiting, auspicious maid) ,
vas told that virzzins vaporized from earth,
and so evil vampires will stay thirsty, I'm afraid.
My Castle, I assert, vill vait for thee,
It is embarrassing for Counts to dine on food,
meanvile red should be drunk like rare chablis,
vilt thou, fair maid, succumb to my persisting mood?
Hast thou ever heard of my night delights?
Thou vilt dine on rare meat vile listening to tunes from the abyss,
I'll beguile your thoughts under candle lights,
and then (enraptured nymph), thou shalt receive my kiss.
Thou shalt be my companion to dark doom,
Teetotal I became due to the lack of virzzins,
it is more evident ven your perfume,
enthralls my Dracula stimulated senses.
I'll bend on your rest, vile you'll be asleep,
vere bats from caves have fled around the room before,
like from a fresh rose your red I shall reap,
and in crepuscular twilight ve, shall soar.
© 01-26-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
May we always address dis-complacency, the vacancy,
And remove all opposes, to our roses,............................................................(Acts 18:4-6)
Here at Poetry Soup, completing love’s 100% loop, in our soup,
For an authentic rose, from God it grows, always knows,
It’s own heart, from which it grows,
For authenticity’s, dis-complacency
Displaces a rose, from which it grows, then only heaven knows,
A rose, from which it grows,
Then it tis the mind’s dis-complacency, from it’s own heart,
Then does it’s part, hid from it’s own heart,
Redresses the rose, then rose begin an oppose,
To it’s heart, from which it grows,......................................(II Thes.2:3-5) Ego mind persona
A displaced rose, is still a rose,
By it’s own authenticity, it still grows,
As the heart, still does it’s part, from the very start,
For it tis the mind, lost in it’s wilderness time, must realign,
With beginning of time, love of heart’s kind,
For it tis, redressing of mind, with heart’s beginning of time,
That undresses the rose, from it’s dress of the oppose,..........................(II Timothy 2:24-25)
For a rose, is still a rose, from whence it grows,
Not death’s oppose,
Like a tree, grows from inside itself, you see,
From an higher intelligence, to be,
That being, from it’s own heart, it’s love of start,
Like a dog, is a dog, not a hog,
Tis it’s central intelligent being, does it’s seeing,
Not it’s bureaucracy of fleas, hidden in it’s leaves,
Nor living in the hairs of your scalp,- Yeeeeeap!
Taking their ease, if you please,
As a nation, we have bureaucratic fleas, living in our leaves,
The fleas are in control, should a flea be so bold,
To tell the truth, tis growing old,
Should a parasite raise our taxes, should the parasites waxes us,
In our town hall meetings, try to ignore our pleadings,
And begin their elite minded proceedings,
By saying we are criminals, and it they are the emeralds,
Tis our freedom of speech, being bleached, under siege,
Should not even a dog own his own fleas, guys pleeeeease!
Our government is not a party to our rose,
They are opposed, to our rose, the fleas that grows,
From the power of our rose,
In our leaves, if you please,
A parasite, out of sight, must take flight,
Tis their complexity, the hex, no flex, too complex,
Will bring our nation to it’s knees, so please,
Use your voice, of choice,
Our fleas have become to numerous, to humor us,
Not a plus, but like a rust,
Our fleas in charge of us!!
As I desire outside just at daybreak
Watch the sleepy sun rise in the mist
So I'll go out, get tools_leaves rake
An excuse to watch that sun rise_my risk
Then I see that one Pale Pink Running Rose
The one deserving its picture taken
I'll get the camera_rose will pose
Leaving chore__leaf raking forsaken
Maybe I'll cachinnate_hide from work
I'll beek in sun think of shenanigan
Go to creek_try to see fish through murk
Couchant posture dip fingers _ dawn began
The anacoluthia of these lines
Requires couchant posture very fine
It’s midnight and your sleeping
When someone knocks upon your door
Who could be there at this hour?
No one’s come this late before
You grab your robe and slippers
And shuffle across the floor
All the while you are thinking
Who’s that knocking at my door?
As you reach the door you hesitate
You don’t know who’s outside
It could be a thief or mugger
Should I run or should I hide?
Then the knock comes even louder
Your heart is pounding in your chest
Sweat is dripping off your forehead
And you can’t catch your breath
So you peek out through a curtain
And can’t believe your eyes
There’s a monster starring at you
With red and glowing eyes
And then you see him smile
As he motions toward your door
He wants to come inside
But what on earth for
Maybe he’s just hungry
He might want a late night snack
If I feed him and I’m nice
Will he keep coming back
So you open the door a little
Not much but just a crack
And your heart jumps from your chest
When you see what’s looking back
He’s ten foot tall and hairy
From his head down to his toes
His eyes are red and glowing
And he says his name is, “ROSE!”
My big hairy monster
That came knocking at my door
Isn’t all that scary
Not to me not anymore
He’s not a he at all
He’s a girl you see
And all she wants is cookies
Cookies and hot tea
So we sat at the table
And talked till after four
Then Rose said, “thank you oh so much”
And I said, “come back again for more”
So when a monster comes to visit
Make some cookies and hot tea
I know she’s big a scary
But Rose is sweet to me
That pen just lies there on the pale white blank pad page__no activity; that sorry pen has O D on something dangerous_passed out_hardly breathing..Come on pen sit up_here sip on this strong coffee..That's it click, look around, life is active, inviting_write it down..Come on now_here eat up of these grits and red-eyed gravy; now that is an eye opener..You've slept through the last rose of summer that was deep burgundy long stemmed on the bush. You missed that lucious kiss under the pale pink rose that on the trellis grows. Winter is coming on, sober up, get busy for you missed the Hummingbird sip nectar from the Wild Petunia then fly away leaving hundreds of Yellow Butterflies to get intoxicated upon its blooms..So you say you are awake now..Here let me kiss you beautiful ink flowing 'pon the page!
I think my pen OD on chocolate though!!!
Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Contest: Drunken Pen Round 2
Chihuahua Football At The Rose Hill Stadium
Watching football at home with my little dogs on a cold winter night, I realize that I coach my
own football team.
Running deep far into the football field at the Rose Hill Stadium (Which is my vegetable-dyed
Persian rug that I bought at an estate sale to cover my hardwoods.) is Piglet, a young and
highly spirited white short-hair Chihuahua, who happens to also be a neutered male, ripped
with lots of muscles and little body fat. Piglet leaps up high and is able to catch in mid-air
the fluffy white piece of parmesan cheese covered popcorn with his cute little white teeth.
(That I just brushed with chicken flavored toothpaste after his bath)
Tessie, the long-haired, black and white female Chihuahua, who is not so lean, executes
most of her plays as the defensive tackle position. She often blocks Piglet from catching his
popcorn and also profits from his fumbles, by intercepting his popcorn and eating it before
she is able to execute a perfect touchdown. (Haven’t managed to teach her to delay eating
her popcorn yet)
Each year they get better and better, next year they might be ready to take their show on
the road. Until then, they have until the Super Bowl to practice their four footed maneuvers
and tricks. At best, they could make it to Letterman's Stupid Pet Tricks some day soon.
(No harm was done to animals in preparation of writing this poem or playing Chihuahua
HAVE YOU SEEN THE AMERICAN ROSE?
WITH LIPS AS RED AS ROSE.
SHE'S GOT THE FACE TO SHAME A MODEL,
AND A BODY BUILT JUST TO MODEL.
HAVE YOU SEEN THE AMERICAN ROSE?
THAT STAR THAT WILL FOREVER RISE.
MANY A ROSE BLOOM WHEN SUMMER COMES.
BUT THE AMERICAN ROSE WILL BLOOM FOR ALL SEASON TO COME.
THOUGH A THOUSAND HAVE TIED HER KNOT.
AND A MILLION WISHES HER TO ROT.
I JUST WANT TO SEE HER SMILE,
AND DIE WITH A FACE FOREVER SMILING.
Broremann, the farmer worker.
Every morning at five thirty sharp, my brother Broremann
had to milk five cows by hand bring bucket full of goodness
to the scullery where maid sifted it and in a churn it went.
He had to start milking Rose first, she was the mother cow
other cows wouldn´t give milk unless he started with her.
After milking Broremann had to clean the barn five cows
make a lot of dung; he pushed it down in a hole in the wall
it was later used to fertilize the land. My brother was proud
of his ability to milk and his hands were, firm yet gentle.
There was a problem though Rose didn´t yield as much milk
as before as she was getting elderly and the farmer sold her
to the knacker’s yard. It was a sad day and the other cows
mooed woefully. The farmer bought a new cow to take Rosa´s
place, but Broremann couldn´t milk her first, as she was new-
comer, so he started with Gerda, now the oldest cow, and milk
the new one last, thus rural peace continued in the cow shed.
I saw a rose with petals red.
I reached for it in haste.
But thorns pierced my hands instead.
That was a sad mistake.
Like that precious rose that bloomed
thus did my love for you.
I should have known that I was doomed.
And now our love is through.