Best Pylon Poems

Along the road called forestry, the silver ash weeps over me
as I meander 'round the dell and glade.
Pass scars of sand pits long disused, where...

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The Psychostasia
(The Egyptian Funerary Rite)

For seventy days I’ve been prepared
With oils and unguents ever so rare
And with linen bandages to and fro
Wound and wrapped from...

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When I closed my eyes and fell asleep in the premature hours of dawn
I never dreamed Your face would be
The next I’d look upon
My vehicle...

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crisp flowing water
lies amidst pylon temple….
a celestial site

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Third Place Winner ~ "Power in Observation” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Freeman
Aug....

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Potato Mountain

I will arrive
an habitual escapee
from the rabbit warrens
of central planners

By ferreting north
in search of
breaks in the maze
rifts in the grid

I will follow
a stream beside
the...

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Like silent sentries
in a row
the pylon docks
await my arrival.
It is low tide as I
step onto the
gangway.
Crusty barnacles
cling tenaciously 
to the pylons
as salt sea water
laps the...

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THE DEATH OF TUTANKHAMEN

                 I.

The king is dead--and layed...

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THE DEATH OF TUTANKHAMEN

                 I.

The king is dead--and layed...

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Kahlia Akasha Is Back
We armed our jet with 8 anti ship missiles. Every single under wing weapon pylon was spoken for. Under fuselage drop tank...

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I

wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine

jet streaks...

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Endless the voice… Allowing ye force… Chi your way be… Harmonically… At one ment… No accident… Devil inside… Enoch too… Victory He Knew… Edgar Cayce’s...

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I sit by the waters edge
Sitting on the border of a concrete ledge
Surrounded by miss-shaped rocks
Formed by the years of repeated water knocks

I throw a...

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2011, the modern year, coming closed
         in 2012, and passive fat assed American apathy
strangles feeling from the...

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Part Two

Do you remember your run-up to the crease
      your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
 ...

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Old mooring pylon
 with shag aloft,
wings flapping.
 Fitness freaks with dogs
jog the shore -
 one woman in particular,
her thighs slapping.
 An old heron and I
are...

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