I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun
I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick
I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey
Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome
Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much more shrivelled and much more cold
Rough winds shake the withered leaves of today.
And your stomach hath too many a fold.
Sometimes too hot your sister shines,
And often is your grey complexion dimmed;
And you always smell like my uncle’s swine
Except your upper lip is less well trimmed.
Thy eternal summer did long since fade
And lost possession of that fair thou ow'st;
And Satan brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives death to eyes.
Sad boy, could anyone mend what's broken,
And dry your salty tears, but with a hand?
Is there anything we haven't spoken,
Is there anything we don't understand?
We have taken the rope, but not the pain,
I hope you know that we wish that we could.
We'll be here for you, through sunshine, and rain;
And if we knew how to help you, we would.
I know that you're angry with all involved,
And especially those close to your heart.
But surely, some day, all will be solved,
And you will thank them for playing their part.
So please read this poem, with thought and care,
Remember that we will always be there.
~ For D (you know who you are)
If only I did not believe in love
My breath would kiss tomorrows lips with ease
But I have been heart-broken by your love
And only death can cure my hearts disease
Your smile seduced my soul to sleep with sin
Your eyes eclipsed with evenings I embraced
Your laughter lured my limbs to love with-in
Bedazzled by your blessings beauty traced
Sometimes a cold wind blows upon a branch
Causing its leaves to fall unto the ground
I do believe love caused my life to branch
Away from dreams as music without sound
After this sonnet that your eyes receive
Cold winds shall blow to breeze my branch to leave
The knots have knots…God?
Threads of needing, want, desire;
passion spent on barren sod
left to burn on flaming pyre.
God, the knots have knots?
Nodes and nodules, full of spoor,
planted upon poisoned plots
hoarding, warmth, desire and more…
God, the knots have knots!
Pulse, and pump; push, and explore
lose the beastly cankerous clots
excrete angst, open the pore,
Free the knots, God, please…
By root and rote, the seedling pleads.
Contest: Me Against Myself
Dear freedom, your sweet innocent voice seems
Now like a distant echo, lost in the wind.
Hopes lost in a set of broken dreams,
With heavy chains, to your heart of stone pinned.
Day by day, night by night, without an end in sight,
Tortured by the ravaging beak of time, flying
With wings of solit'de, displaying its might,
And hatred-filled eyes, watching me dying.
These chains around my heart like a vicious snake
Poisoning my soul with darkness and despair.
A dreadful nightmare from which I will wake
And look into destiny's most wicked glare.
I stand under shadows cast by heaven's light,
And into sleep I fade, witho't a fight.
Starring into the dross of amber brew
no face see I reflected, simply hollow I.
The stein of crystal tells no fortune spare,
nor one of bounty, yet what is true?
With drink, I dredge the pain of life anew
and wallow in the grain of cheaper wares,
degrade myself and blame fate, for my strife,
ignoring all God's gift, so loud I cry,
as salted tears stain trails of my despair.
If only, I had been a better wife
I'd not be sitting here.
Form: Curtal Sonnet [A precurser to the Italian Sonnet]
abcabcdbcd c [10 1/2 lines]
No more this verdant sight no more the sound
No more the heart of mist at nature’s dawn
No more victims of constant pressure found
No more the fool of man’s enactment borne.
To worship a foundation so ancient
The last bastion of one’s ancestor
Then one bears scars of prudence so poignant
When complied to appease the molester.
Our Fathers who wove within nature’s loom
So soon eras of memories destroyed
When at the mercy of Europe’s new broom
Leaving many dreams retrenched redeployed.
Hearts and minds linger still at Purple Haze
Ghostly cascades of falling tears amaze!
For all the farmers systematically force from their lands
in a orchestrated albeit subtle way
after the UK joined the European common market 1970's
A Poem about of one of those farms "Purple Haze"
Copyright HarryJ Horsman 2010
I just found out that you are not a friend,
I try so much to show you affection,
instead you present me with dejection,
Sorrows and joy are difficult to blend,
I thought our mingling will have a good end,
Lies and malice have been your selection
coupled with theft leading to rejection,
Vices covered with smiles just to pretend.
Deadly intentions hidden from the eyes,
To control and rule others you aspire,
Your kindness and sweet words are in disguise,
Your evil thoughts and deeds put me on fire,
making some probes and problems to arise,
This quagmire and pain,I do not desire.
THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN
February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;
and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.
They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!
And when the fire consumed all that it could
the winter of their lives was understood.