I think they doth protest too much
Though they say nothing
For fear the noxious, noisy wind
Will leave its fetid stench on them
For perfume is but a piglet’s bath
A cloak o’er bloodied flags
That bid them “go and do your worst”
Your life is over, you are cursed
They protest those that protest them
A beggared chant verse sainted hymn
Defend the throne of gods unknown
That somehow they have voted in
For truth is hard and lies defile
The sweetest talk the demon’s guile
That leads us to the tipping point
Of corpses marching single file
Yet still they doth protest too much
With blue-lit, cardboard voices
Unable to accept the fact
Somehow these were their choices
Categories:
beggared, conflict, confusion, war,
Form: Verse
I hear them on the television,
like I have a choice,
that's flat-out all they show these days:
Politicians
with their elucidations
tangled as Grandma's yarn.
Honest Joe, explicating why I'm beggared;
"It's your own fault, my good friends,
frankly, we need bold solutions"
they boom;
then hike the price of gas.
And the voices of we, the people;
lost
like violins in a marching band.
Simile Poetry Contest placed 10th
Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
Date wrote: 6th August 2022
Categories:
beggared, political,
Form: Free verse
She, there drawn, but not for sleep
Daubed in guile, the heartless weep
Cold, the secrets sheets thus keep
Peeking, stained in deeds that creep
Through the burning keyhole ...
Burning, jealous eyes ...
Bodies scorched with flames to fan
Limbs entwined in breadths to span
Dreaming does what dreaming can
Peeking blessed me, the "other man"
Through the callow keyhole ...
Callow, spotless eyes ...
Once, she spilled her passions, freed
Crimped from time and shallow need
Perfecting spawn with faultless seed
Peeking, searched to stem the bleed
Through the nascent keyhole ...
Nascent, beggared eyes ...
Now, the years force hearts to stray
In careless arms, the dreams decay
One whose blistered hands will pray
Peeking, danced in lust's ballet
Through the rusted keyhole ...
Rusted, weeping eyes ...
Weeping ... trust's demise.
Categories:
beggared, analogy, betrayal, change, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
Broken...
Eagerly Erased
Vaguely Visiting Vitality
Encouraged Earlier Evenings End
Remained Ravishing Reality
Lifelessly Lurking
Yearning...
Beggared
Excessively,
Varied
Extensively;
Reasons?
Loving/Losing
You
At Nearabouts Now
Jokingly Obtain Neglect;
Expurgating Self
...breathless
elatedness,
—VANISHING—
—ESCAPING—
...resoundingly
lovable
yore.
Been catching myself, staring off in distance;
Engulfed by the sorrow—forever haunted...
Validate; all my failures and flaws again—
Eerily similar to who came before—
Reflect upon little girl's frivolousness...
Largely too intangible for you to grasp...
Years—Perhaps your best ones, were already gone—
Categories:
beggared, for her, muse,
Form: Acrostic
On a windy rain-swept day
When a murder of crows I see,
Their ruffled feathers ragged
Sorrowful as they can be.
Huddled they perch on roof-tops
Gazing mournfully at the sky,
No ray of hope the day gives
Neither crumbs of morsels dry.
They remind me of poets
Singed by the rigours of their fate,
Peddling hopes for the living
Their lives a pitiful wait.
That heavens would pour mercy
On their weary crucified souls,
That fate pen a reversal
Of their oft mistaken roles.
Decried as stray vagabonds
Beseeching alms at corners dark,
They are monarchs in disguise
Beggared mortals fail to mark.
***********
Categories:
beggared, poets,
Form: Verse
MAKING HIM JEALOUS
Five lovers have I, nimble servants each
One comes to me in ardour where I teach
One comes in curiosity attired
And only leaves when senses all are fired
One comes in blossom with fidelity
He leaves behind a bird’s nest in my tree
One comes to worship at my body’s shrine
Leaves me devotion and a glass of wine
One comes to me without being capricious
Of all his charms I’m the most suspicious
Five faithful servants all do me adore
Until I am their servant, asking more –
I’m beggared but so rich in sex and sentiment
I’ll tax them all for this faithful flower meant.
published IN MEMORY OF HER Dublin 2008
Categories:
beggared, love,
Form: Sonnet
And ever above,
clouds of sorrow
assemble in thunderous ranks:
a surfeit of threat
and gloom.
And ever below,
unhappy footsteps
surrender rhythm
to unyielding pavement—
against a gray and endless plain.
Who but a fool
dreams that sorrow
can be bartered
for kindness and love?
The beggared soul abides.
And, in his eyes,
the ashen world
grows, blurs and overflows
to run down his cheeks.
And it rains.
Categories:
beggared, lonely, rain,
Form: Free verse
Sandburg saw you
more than a century ago
in prairie-town Galesburg -
an old lady on the porch -
unbothered by the whooping cries
of ball-playing boys.
Strangely, you had become a missing piece
in the jigsaw puzzle of my life
and I found myself on a quest to find you.
A caption to a missing image alerted me -
followed by a tale
of deleted files and
hard drive crashes
until a reply
from a Knoxville college -
they had a picture of you!
A beggared five dollars later
your image arrived,
and I shared you with the world-
so that everyone may know
the face of the woman who taught us
the importance of little things.
____________________________________________________
Julia Carney (1823-1908) is the author of "Little drops of Water".
Categories:
beggared, dedication, poets, woman,
Form: Free verse
Steel kiss from phantom blades abounding,
Adagios anguished, lick, resounding,
Fierce hammers rage, in Darkness pounding-
In the hour of my night.
My beggared soul to grim remand,
Nestles deep 'neath an ebon sand,
Where gaunt and ghostly jackals stand-
In the hour of my night.
With chaliced draught of Desolation,
Toasting Twilight's coronation,
Embraced! Poor heart's disconsolation-
In the hour of my night.
Gone, frailest hope to shadows tame,
When murmurs soft, this beast its name!
Fair Dawn droops spent, and mute, and lame-
In the hour of my night.
Categories:
beggared, depression, introspection, loss,
Form: Rhyme
Thrash without mercy or conscious intent
the torrent rages past consciousness
streaming debris beggared by the breeze
moving life’s with fullness and ease
Governing the listless, the lingerers lost
moving the precious along with the dross
hammering the fragile
soothing the source
profoundly
continuing
an
unending course.
Categories:
beggared, adventure, introspection, nature, philosophy
Form: Shape
I lie awake, head crammed with doubts and fear,
Will I be ok or will people laugh and jeer.
I struggle to rest but sleep evades me,
The phantoms of my mind control me,
Leading me onwards to darkness and despondency.
Will my words flow like soft waves upon the sea,
Or will the words I utter reek of insanity.
Will I be doomed and be remembered,
For the vehement words that I dismembered,
That beggared belief from those attended.
I try and quell my turbulent thoughts,
By soothing my dread with this shrewd recourse.
That whatever happens it's just meant to be,
As long as I perform my part valiantly,
And to the best of my ability,
People can say what they want about me.
Categories:
beggared, confusion, fear, imagination, spoken
Form: Rhyme