Best Archaic Poems
On a peaceful isle of your hammock
Bring me notes from an old guitar
That I may share euphoric thoughts
Embracing a geek in silence.
Past Tolkien's edge, a rite I bless
While on sweet trail, God's pentagram
lights optical dreams to refine,
This after-life’s soft artistry.
Pour down on me, my brother Chan,
and fire my breath with your warm torch;
for an archaic rhymer glides
To nurture joy, fresh on my mind.
Cyndi Mac Millan's A Word Collage For Chan Hurst
by nette onclaud
Brother,you were a human torch
in a melanchonic orbit
of undefined wars
Now you are a pentagram star
mystical and magical
Pouring light and love
from a happier place
from behind heaven doors
Not so distant though worlds afar.
Through each verse and every stanza
you are.
Like Tolkien,your middle earth
was always the unknown,
Your soul has found its home.
A sculptor of word
A weaved tapestry of artistry
A collage of emotions,a performer
A treasure of memories
Our souperstar.
An archaic poet,a self-professed geek
A rhymer you are
playing on our heart strings
with a honey toned acoustic guitar.
Must ve'been an optical illusion
I saw you getting near
I 'm sure I've heard your laughter
sweet echoing my ear;
But I know it cannot be ,
Through faith We face reality.
Our God himself descended
To his word We adhere
He held you a bit closer
and wiped away each tear,
He raised you to his land
with a loving hand,
We'll miss you dear friend,
But We understand...
Till we meet again
Alive in our hearts you stand.
Till then,Protect Us dear Chan.
.
A Tribute
for you Chan Hurst
The Archaic Poet .
Fly with the Angels.
Heart o Silver, doth thou dither?
About the stars, or planets blither?
O grateful gods, become so weary,
Heart o silver, hast left thee teary.
Glaciated by wind and storm,
Nevermore, thy heart be warm.
Heartbreak and spice,
everything nice,
Jet pepper and cracked
cinnamon.
Variety and life, diamonds and
curls,
Feminine mystique such a sin.
Sorrow and snails, mysterious
things,
We all know boys will be boys.
With leather and musk, a little
bit rough,
Trashing out bodies, their toys.
Jack and Jill went up a hill,
To trip, tequila, and fall.
And then, they both came
tumbling down,
Cushioned by an eight-ball.
Soldiers, steeds and super glue,
Unable to foresee,
A fall, a break, rock bottom hit,
Nothing that can't be fixed...for
a fee.
Mirror, mirror, in my hand,
Am I the most anorexic of them
all?
Poke and prod and bended
knee,
Hoping he might call.
Light a candle...Be nimble! Be
quick!
Lift your skirt and take my dick!
Gladly! If after I meet you,
Peter,
Midnight strikes, and you're the
pumpkin eater.
Bah bah, black sheep,
Happen to know a virgin?
An apple a day, may keep the
doctor away,
If you ate it, instead of them.
There was a young lady, who
lived to buy shoes,
Despite what others may say.
Nine, 18, 27 months,
The price she had to pay.
Maybe, he sat in the corner,
Dreaming of nothing but pie,
He stuck something in, it
wasn't his thumb,
Pat on the head, what a good
guy.
Star light, so bright!
Is that a white light I see?
Hit me baby, one more time,
Revive my agony.
Little miss innocent, sat in a
bar,
Drinking her whiskey and rye,
Along came a spider, sat down
beside her,
Bedding her with a lie.
Stars that twinkle, diamonds
too,
Never questioned, never
thought,
To be the naive reasoning,
Behind fortunes sought.
A fairy tale, nursery rhyme,
poison antiquities,
Teach the future something
more,
Something more to seize.
Tiskets and taskets, better left
for baskets,
A distant era, another time.
Pockets full of ashes and
posies,
Archaic cradle rhymes.
old bookshelves dwindle
one page holds all ~ big swindle
new hardback kindle
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Bookshop Poetry Contest
10/3/2021
Syllable counter PS 5/7/5
I cry in longing
For a world I never knew
Woe all ye my lament and dispose of this find
For the countenance of my tumult is indeed a gorgon to behold,
Woe ye i mourn the death of youth
I who has felt her descent
as wistful longings and mine puny regrets in this wretched world,
filling my heart to combustion with sorrow, a haggard hag.
Tears unshed shall fall covered unseen, in the rainfall of the coming storm
When the heavy clouds that shadows my soul liberate and dissipate
the burden heavy on my shoulders shall pale,
to the now clear solid face of my state of mind.
My soul fades to shades of grey
Each day when within I die
Each day when in sorrow I mourn
Each day when my heart remembers and so it cries
In longing for the rest that only death can gift
The release to decompose in the arms of lady Demise
With time to turn and mote
I seek for a constant state of mind
Where heart and soul are in melodies
or my mind and my tender spirits are in a state of oblivion
But we don’t need to celebrate Easter anymore,
Because we have our health service full throttle,
Anyone can come, any walk of life, many more,
There’s no conditions or qualifications to bottle.
So we don’t need Easter, we don’t need this time,
We don’t need the resurrection to throw us off,
Because it’s out of context and has become crime,
To this progressive society, so let’s laugh, scoff.
Jesus followers all those years ago, scared, left,
Were just referring to his memory for ramification,
And were not implying a physical miracle cleft,
But were only having a relationship with sanction.
Wickedly wanton desires ? Burning deeply..
This love's lavender lit, lanterns; buried aneath
Her sea be joyful, crimson pleasures ? Bathing aside
Their shores soaked as sands; her beauty melting within....
Shameless hands his clock, timeless ? Sighs, then she screams.
On scribbled parchment, sanguine letters writ in blood
Of hidden tales, broken pages smeared with mud
An unknown soldier, his blood he lie
With glint of sword, his death is nigh
A scar on the body, an ache in the heart
Blades in the dark, cut his chest apart
In his sorrow, with his dying breath
He called to his dearest Elizabeth
For never again would he see her face
‘Twould be here he died, this abysmal place
The war had begun, some fifty years hence
This soldier unknown fought for a sixpence
His gentle soul ripped by the horrible conflict
That artists of the gilded age could never quite depict
On the field of valor, were armies a’massing
‘Twas nought but bodies as sign of their passing
The head of the line led a cavalry charge
As arrows shot past, betwixt shield and targe
With iron-forged pikes upwardly thrust
To satisfy the wicked Gods’ bloodlust
Cries in anguish rang out cold as steel
Sheering flesh from bone, with fanatic zeal
With each death, came a tear fell from Heaven
The forgotten soldier, unidentified number eleven
Which side won the battle could not be told
Such death and carnage, history alone could be so cold
Through passage of time and the set of the sun
Came the dawn of a new age, the era of the gun
A weapon of such power that no armor can shield
That strikes such fear that the courageous yield
Could the forgotten soldier have known this to pass
How could he foresee land mines and poison gas
This is what we make of the cause he died for
To repeat the same mistakes, to continue his war
With a whimper or a scream, how does Humanity end
An unjust war on the horizon, on you it will depend...
There once was a ghost who loved the post
He enjoyed the thrill of the periodicals fill
Turning each page of the paper
Geared to those who picked up an honest wage as waiters.
There were all these incredible tales
Using sources that were impossible to fail.
Flipping through the headlines
He looked for a good find
Then there was this one
It looked like fun
A hunter name Sam
Frustrated since he was in a jam
While living in the swamp
In which he really did not want
Sam developed a plan
To get out of the bayou scam
After a beer
I will go out with this spear
Telling my wife, I am going to get a deer.
When I come back, I will say I was under attack
And almost got whacked.
Then we will sell since the property can be deemed from hell.
Trying not to be harsh
Sam waddled through the marsh
Watching for deer
And have an excuse to use his spear.
Going through very hushed
He found his way through the murky mush
There it was a deer and it was time to use his spear.
Going to this gun
Knowing the venison was done.
But something happened
That nearly trapped him
It was a ghost that made him miss
And this made the lovely dear give an evil hiss
Again, and again he did try to send
The spear to the de3r who just stood there without any fear.
“I kept missing and the deer would not stop hissing,”
Sam said knowing that his dinner was dead.
Going back home where he was not alone
Since his dear laid out a nice beer.
“Honey do you want to leave the swamp?”
She asked wanting to know if the bayou time has passed.
“Yes dear, I want to let you know that it is time to go.”
She responded, “but before we leave, I want to make sure that you believe, it wasn’t a ghost that made you miss instead it is the way you throw that spear in order to enjoy deer with your beer.”
Still flying high
Knowing the story was not a lie
The ghost closed the newspaper called the post.
Making the case it was the spirit in the air
That really did care
Showing the couple, the guiding light
Giving no reason to fight
And as Sam and his wife packed
Feeling better Sam did not get whacked
His wife helped him say goodbye
To the property which for some was a good buy
Another word for
Daybreak, everyday's best
Time to be happy
Look back on the old
Recalling the best moments
Of each newborn day
Ancient tongues dawning
Should be resurrected new
Anew modern words
http://www.old-engli.sh/dictionary.php
haiku chain
Live on Facebook
I post rubbish
To caress the spook
Who dares to finish
The sleep I lose
In the wee hours of nights
Disturbed by the booze
I swill in my fights
Against strictures
Society calls taboos
In lampoon literatures
That scorn the tattoos
Adorning my arms
My torso, my neck
Without the qualms
Society spots in a speck
Akin to a storm in the teacup
Society perceives in the freedom
I enjoy as new ideas snap
From disorders in the fiefdom
Where new generations see a future
Teeming with new technologies
New social media whose cogent culture
Defies archaic eulogies and their synergies.
In more archaic times,
Full of fiction and philosophers,
The people would have
Believed
Poseidon opened his angry mouth and sucked in the tide
To reveal
The naked, secret, bottom of the ocean
Giving a horrible vision of his
Vindictive Wrath
Just before he released his destruction upon the wicked and innocent.
And it made sense to those left living.
Their gods were malleable, mercurial, mystical.
In more sophisticated times,
Full of morality and religion,
The people celebrate the
Immaculate conception and birth of the savior of man.
Meanwhile
The tide sucked into the bowels of the deep,
The bottom of the secret blue was revealed
for an instant
Before murder was released upon the wicked and innocent.
And it makes sense to those left living.
Our God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omni-benevolent.
Life is but a recording and has been placed in your memory
We are all actors who have a part to play on a wide TV screen
We have action, drama and even comedy
Life is but a movie that is played by you and me
We all dress up and play a part just like on TV
We film each other using our eyes as a camera so we can see
It is then recorded for watching later and we call this
Our memory
These images that we have seen have now become our fantasy
For our reality only last for a second and then, becomes our past
Poetry is a part of your pasted placing it so that others can see
Your history.
Once a poem is written it may take a while to read but then
It will be in your passed a part of your history
So, a hundred years from now your words maybe seen
As, the old poet from yesteryear who wrote poetry
Do not worry about what people say today
For tomorrow you just might be someone
Who is famous who wrote your poetry today
Passion rose quickly in the spa
Expectations now were sky high
But suddenly he said, "Oh, no Ma,"
"I'm startin' to cramp in my thigh"
Quite deftly she rubbed it on out
There weren't many places she missed
And just like that back on track
Passion returned as they kissed
Fondling and groping then ensued
The dog stared at them beside the spa
She didn't like it but, now what?
She asked, "What're you looking at Pa?"
Squinting as he looked up at the light
He sneezed almost loud as a horse
Then she happened to catch his eye
And gave it back to him of course!
Awkwardly exiting the spa
They decided to continue in bed
Under the covers, comfy and warm
They both fell asleep instead!