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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
9/5/2011 5:33:12 PM

Keith Baker
Posts: 18
Bah! The sound of quelled cries
Tempered timbers tales and ties.
Malevolence, mischievous
Mine heart; mine lives.

Serendipitous meetings
With resounding sighs, of life.
Quaff strange brews
In still stranger sties.
Careful wispers
around still stranger allies.

Lashings! oh, still the burnt
Back bleeds red.
I heard from one and his tale
As an old head had no recourse
To lead mine heart unto dread.

Under fence and over wood,
Through jagged metal teeth,
Across yon' wall, through yon' mall.
Providence with waving arm there stood.

But with every syllable and poetic
Jaunt he did reveal clear enough.
Did I see a mere killer on the tower
A demon in the rough.

Was I to truckle this life long dead?
The thought of purgatory
Weighed heavy my old head.
Remembrances of home, of wife, and bed.

So grabbed I my worldly worth,
My soul should I fall short,
My hilt I furnished from a dinner spoon
And my kills I gave to the Lord.

I ran in night , scratched and did I get bit.
I slammed through jungle and dark of night.
Dark eyes seemed to always be peering,
But many days were the rest of my flight.
edited by kbakermemphis on 9/5/2011
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