Best Knavery Poems
I'm just writing my story
Leaving out all the glory
I never tore them; yet the pages and spine are all but broken
Its letters are scattered, yet still the words form a concise omen
Would you read it back to me slowly, please, as you reach the bitter ending?
It hurts my eyes, you see; this heart could use a break from all this bending.....
Being devoured alive inside is such a epic novel unsavory
Moments, however, are kept in order by thoughts of your light upon my gnomon
They just keep coming, though without a care as to whether or not they are heartrending
It's so sour to own a form of pain that is this condescending
A barren land uncultivated and so divided from this yeoman
Painless by comparison to a nose job given by the grindstone of life's knavery
Just as I finished; then, the ink ran dry right before me.....
It's in this here and now that I've broken out
I wanna scream, but they drown out every shout
Then I think of all the things I ought not talk about:
Have they ever not been a couple minutes too late?
Do they ever have their story straight?
Inside me, hope has made its case to abate....
Hung from ropes unknown, can you relate?
Am I the world's least astute gadabout?
What I feel is that my intentions are drawn and quartered; based fully on others' self-doubt
But there is no way I will let this point of pitiful; be an excuse to live life by copping out
Not till the loom was silent
And the shuttle ceased to fly
When history unrolled the scroll
And reveals the reason why.
The darkest thread as needful
In the weavers skilful hand
As the cloth of gold and silver
Of an industrious ruin greed had planned.
No amount of corporate education
Could quell our simple brain
No grammar association
Yet unravelled the master’s pain.
They took away our ambition
Off shore was their devious plan
Tried so hard to pick our pockets
Yet our skill could clothe a man.
His call was for cheap labour
Some call it slavery
Now we buy at a thousand per cent
The product of knavery!
First eight lines adapted from anon poem, The Weaver, speculation wrote, by a weaver in/from Colne, Lancs England last Century, wrote originally for/in a religious format,
My version, here. Political.
© Harry J Horsman 2015
I had a little bunny fair
Who loved no one but me.
I hardly thought a fox would dare
To do such knavery.
I built my pet a darling hutch,
To save him from all harm,
Not knowing that a sly old fox
Would soon invade the farm.
We lived and laughed the whole day through
My darling hare and I.
Without a thought of that old fox
And danger coming nigh.
I had no knowledge that a fox
Could slyly lift the latch.
And grab my bunny from his home,
For fox he was no match.
I know that fox is laughing still
My tears are falling fast.
I long to hold my pet again
Reliving days now past.
for PD’s contest
Dear Barcelona
Bride of Spain
Mourn not precious jewel
For we are praying for you
We are praying for your children
That they may find favour in heaven.
Sea feliz!
To spite the devil's tricks
And make farse of his knavery
That you may find peace with the enemy
So their souls can be made pure and right
Mysterious Barcelona
Try not to make sense of this
For only the creator knows why,
Rise like the Spanish rose in the face of rain and sun
Remain in your unmoved dazzle.
We humans like all creatures to have a purpose, an aim,
From one-celled amoebas to fungi-spore glebas,
They need a good reason to compete in life's game.
Consider cats: They school us in hygiene
Licking their paws and their fur shiny clean.
And how 'bout tiny ants, who teach us industry,
Or lions and their bravery--and foxes with their knavery?
But what reason have seahorses to be in the sea?
What can they teach us? How can they enlighten you or me?
Can they sing or dance? Can they 'cut a rug' in the water?
And if they can't, do you really think they should ought to?
Well, please know that things aren't quite what they seem.
Seahorses are special, unique, and highly esteemed;
In the eye of the sea, they're jewels, all sparkle and gleam.
See the distinctive manner wherewith these fish swim:
Upright! propelling themselves ever higher via dorsal fins.
Then there's the spectacle of seahorse sex and mating--
No other males on the planet hold the eggs while waiting
To release them of a sudden by the thousands at a time,
And then go back at it with their 'exes' on the turn of a dime.
All this leads up to how traditional Chinese physicians
Prescribe 'seahorses' for whatever their patients get sick in:
Everything from wheezing and pain to inducing labor,
With TCM's** practitioners, these fish are ever in favor.
It's clear, my fellow humans,
From Peking to Paris and on to Toulouse,
Seahorses can certainly be put to very good use...
*****
...Prompting this little 'caboose:'
Let US ask this question: Is human activity equally productive?
---Or do WE choose to engage in things far more destructive?
April 19, 2018
**TCM = Traditional Chinese Medicine
Although the endless aridities of mortal survival
Are wont to twist the very best in every man,
Honest be against the knavery of those around,
And always keep your word because you can.
It sounds smart to preach the flat waters
And later to gulp the well-brewed wines,
And a promise broken sounds a witty deed,
But the uttered word will haunt with its fines.
I will not tell you to walk the talk
For this you’ve clichéd to suit your aim,
And since talking the walk would be strange,
Let your said word be kept to keep your name.
An explanation may be the next best thing
But there is nothing like a word faithfully kept,
The honeyed excuse sounds diplomatic enough
Yet there’s muse in the honest payment of a debt.
A bug trapped in amber.
Fossil flowers in a stone.
Sabre tooth caught in tar.
Iceman asleep in a glacier.
Nature doesn't care!
Nature makes no judgements,
cares not who you are,
drops you in your tracks!
If by some diabolical magic
life could be restored at
the moment it stopped,
each being would find its
new destiny in many ways.
Bug will take its next step.
Flowers complete their cycle.
Sabre tooth would stalk and
Iceman could complete his journey.
How different the creatures trapped
in media slime?
We define, limit, and pin
them in a book without room
to wiggle.
Our judgements fix their lives
far better than amber.
Can I meet a Jew without thinking Holocaust?
Can I work with a black person without thinking slavery?
Can he work with me without thinking knavery?
All those defined as the "other"
are iced and framed relentlessly
by memes, visual and aural bites.
What a world it could be if our next step
was taken with a complete tabula rosa.
Delfin
Free Verse
SATURDAY, May 28 2022
When in this world you bade adieu
Leaving your siblings and family in sorrow
But here am i now, paying my last respect to you
Eleven years we haven't seen each other
Now I see you, but can see me no more
As I gaze at you inside that fancy casket
Tears roll back in my face
Delfin at age 71
For me you're still very young
There are still many things to do
Yes, many things to do that to God we offer
I still remember when we were together young
Living in that dusty town called Nampicuan
Many escapades we have done
That made our parents intensely and extremely mad
Those are adventurous actions and capriccios
A part and parcel of being lad’s didos
A modern James Dean in the streets
But became mellow in your old age.
Your teen-age caper and knavery
Are all things to remember
It always remain in my heart and mind
A knocker of my memory in case oblivion prevails.
Like your Big Brother Tito
Who left us 30 years ago
Won't forget when we we’re all growing up
Attending worship services and playing with friends.
Now you are like him
Resting in peace, waiting for Christ's second coming
On that Day we all be together again
In the New Jerusalem with our parents as well
You are so blessed my Dear Brother
You can not make any kind of blunder again
While we are still in this crooked and vile world
Fighting for our faith, defending for our fate
What might have brightened sober days
Is now a poison clearly seen
Within the labyrinthine ways
Of hearts and their fugacious queen.
The king of clubs once owned my dreams
And all the diamonds in the crown,
But then long years and clever schemes
Paid back the debt which trod me down.
I did once play a game of spades
Which brought me quick and short relief,
Though I knew well that he who wades
Through life is but a drowning thief.
And now, that all the deck is stacked
Against the joy of yesterdays,
The bridge to knavery is wracked
And youth is trumped inside a maze.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
The girl shouted for joy in the middle of the velvet full moon.
The little dog barked twice interrupting the high-handed act of argument.
How many words will describe the perfect purification as we proceed to knavery?
"I must run to her before it is too late"my heart was singing repeatedly.
I relapsed when i saw her acting in the theatre of sobs,in front of thousand pearls.
I blessed all this time i was struggling,tried to bring myself to life.
How many times i had to apologize when her majesty sparkled into the dark?
I tried the e4 move once to estrange the defense of her black pieces.
The girl started to cry as the final stroke with a brush blinded the canvas again.
She saw her long golden hair dancing among the colors of omnipotence.
How many architects may manufacture the texture of her smile?
She wrapped me up with her wet deep eyes,burned me with her mind.
"I have to tell you girl, that my best friend is naphthalene."
"Ssssss....My name is Friendemy.Don't worry.Be my best friend not my best
enemy".
Suddenly the girl disappeared and i alone face the discouragement.
Today,tomorrow and the day after.
Sorry for the many times I have loved you.
For the endless nights my images leech,
And dote upon your memory.
Had not it that your peace drives my last nerve to insanity, -
Need I mention cupid, the missing factor in this equation?-
I fray, find me less a wife.
I do your foil find pleasure in,
Than that the clergy should hear my vows to you.
I tremble at the very imps I term your kisses.
Were they, only less sweet?
The ugly I so love in you-
Only this would be my death,-
A blunt, in a knavery of emotions so deep within
Yet roaming much without, about, unorthodox in time and sequence
The treachery of a false friend
is sudden, cutting—always cruel;
his knavery observes no end
and he’ll use you like a drunk fool.
He’ll play you like a violin,
like a puppet on a tight string;
before long he’ll get you to sin
and do a lawless, evil thing.
Once a boy now a man
Morgan Harper Knavery had a plan
To be the first officer in an all girls band
Musically thinking
Began drinking
His risqué coarse obscene informal blue
Ribald improper, naughty and so lewd
Quietly described by first avenue
Now a womanizing flute player
And the woman found him nay-slayer
So they gathered to conspire
To dismiss him by the hour
By impaling him so he would expire
A stupid murder fell on his flute while taking a shower
Alas the senseless murder of this bandmate womanizer
The murder death of womanizer Morgan Harper Knavery
4/17/18
by James Edward Lee Sr.
Dancing in the shade
Of the celestial glade
We're moonlit pioneers
Who overcame our fears
Bravery not knavery
In a cosmic soup so savory
Beauty is in crystalline flowers
And monolithic towers
Remove inhibition and take a tour
And enjoy the universe's greatest score
And realize after awhile
Nothing is as beautiful as a smile
And it might assuredly astound
But that is where the universe is found
True courage is to be unshackled from sorrow
With joy we're the saviors of tomorrow
The pain we endure is not in vain
Sit with me and watch the shadows wane
Every smile is a beacon for the sun
And promising days of fervent fun
We're sunlit pioneers
Who overcame our fears
Watching the darkness fade
In the celestial glade
You deceive extremely and trust alone