Best Scimitars Poems

The Moon’s Yellow Eyes										
After: The King in Yellow by Robert Chambers 
					
Situations righted by the assassination in Sheepshead Bay (alibied with difficulty under earth’s single moon), I curl up on the windowsill hissing at the pallid orb. Oh how, I long for my planet, Carcosa....

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Pavement cafe, nine fifteen cradling a coffee (as you do)
from my left the china doll with clicking heels strode into view.
Tempting lips kissy-kissed with crimson, cheeks caressed
with  blush, and poreless,
painful teasing made those scimitars for eyebrows nigh on flawless.
Hair of sunlit copper billowed like...

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Pasha Acremodios grew greedy,
discontented with the domain he dominated,
so he turned covetous eyes toward Farabia,
sending his soldiers to seize this ripened plum

Spoiling for a fight and fighting for spoils,
his army swept across Farabia
like a bloody broom,
brushing it clean of plunder,
bringing back abundant booty–
orichalcum and gnometal,
moonweed...

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Standing before an invisible army, 
The boy stands watching from behind their hidden lines,
Peering into their smiling cheeks and jowls.
Returning the smirking favor, he holds up his electric hands,
Whose dendrites trickle lightning from his metaphysical nerves.
As the air ionizes around his polarized body,
The army becomes...

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The Palace Guardiennes were the sultan’s delight,
resplendent in their tight uniforms
of scarlet and magenta silks,
embroidered with golden flowers,
with sterling silver scimitars in
ruby studded scabbards
hanging off lovely hips,
and boots and belts of finest faun-skin
and helmets topped by peacock plumes

They carried poplar lances
and twirled them like batons
and...

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Are your eyes made from the surging debris from the scintillating stars?
Are your voice made from the tranquil tune from the guitars?
Are your fingers been forged and formed in the God's altar?
Are your sense of smell made from the aroma of the rose's attar?
Are your...

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Come fly with me
said she
One good tern
deserves
another
And did I so yearn
with her to share 
the air

Up we soared
and down we roared
between the sea's deep blue
and sky's paler hue
Between the waves’ white spray
and clouds high away

As speeding arrows, we traced
two trails across foam crests
calling as we...

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A puddle of fish. A fountain. A silver dish. Never try to outpace a whale as they are particularly good at breaststroke. And please don't slam the lid on the peanuts in a tin as they rather like to look out at their surroundings. Chasing...

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We've been here for an eternity
Walking amongst you,
You know us,
And what we're here to do.

I've died a hundred times,
Nearly a thousand years.
The first death,
On the Horns of Hattin
A time of scimitars and spears.
The last time a child,
Drowning in my parents tears.

Each and every time,
Only to...

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Lame sunrises and midday sunsets
Fangs in words and perils in laughters
Sweet archs of smiling fires and silky shouts in talking forests 
I come from the bitter of cobstones paved down the coalfield 

Broken lutes and snoring cork oaks 
Freckles of lipstick and suckles of martinis
A...

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Here I stand
with my Claymore, Agony
strapped to my back
and metaphysical forearm spikes
running up my arms,
     slanting towards my elbows.
Winds howl around me
    filled with knives of rhetoric
tearing at me like teeth.
Unleashing my spiked chain
from its pouch on my...

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Hanks of horse tail
Fractured hair
Slipping pegs    and
Rosin dust

Memories of these tunes
I used to play as a kid
Hadn't heard them in many years
One page each    or
Half-a-page
In this book with a blue cover -
'Thirty Violin Pieces You Love To Play' -
Like...

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a sparkling expanse, lapping the horizon,
crinkled by the weight of torrential bright

the airborne eye, squinting,
catches sight of a flotilla,  
parallel, bloodless gashes on liquid lapis, 
pointy beaks gently pecking docile waves,    
their wakes lengthening, then fanning,  
a formation of miniature...

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Watch them on this Summer’s night –
They hunt and sleep upon the wing,
Scything through the fading light
With high-pitched screams – they never sing.

High in the humid air they sail
Like scimitars, their swept-back wings
A sooty brown with short forked tail;
They prey on flies and other things.

A...

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Delusional scimitars
festive daggers
soft balalaika
captive sword ...
Mandolins,
hot nights
harps, wine
poison,...
dangers
daggers
Banjo and
boldness,
gypsy waltz,
ruby joy ...
I desire
of life,
The beauty,
arpeggios
Utopia...
the art
for art to fight ...
be craftsman
of delights
live life in
complete
Bohemia.........

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