Synchronized steps walked cautiously,
Wandered in the conductor's lair.
Where once was echoing laughter,
Now sits a soft-pedal chair.
Roaring and thunderous barrage,
Wry language that he called his own.
Brings a foundational pulse,
A groove he’s always shown.
Collectively, experienced-
The roaring of his defeat.
A community of healing-
Our drum circle- yields to the beat.
Listening to you
oh what a to-do
it looks like
you've come unglued
or going bananas
your psyche's addled the mind muddled
brain's fogged boggled or befuddled
is something missing
a marble or two
perhaps a loose screw
maybe more than a few
and making a run
or bolt for it
will never do
it's not too late
to join the inmates
for as well you know
you will still be there
wherever you go
If the Muse bolts from me, I'll love her more
still and pen heartfelt songs of forlorn rhymes;
yet, I'll still wilt within internal climes
of gloom from her forsaking me before
I empty her spirit, for I've sometimes
gone to cruel lengths to dash her gentle heart.
So, having erred, the consequence for art,
and ingenious meters, thus makes betimes
my Muse's faithfulness to then depart
(from me). To shortly beg her forgiveness,
I take my medication, lower my stress:
renew my efforts to make a fresh start.
For my patient Muse, a Pierian empress,
inspires my dark, bipolar mind's fitness!
~ A Lighthearted Look at Cheating on Keeping Kosher ~
Pick my poison, shrimp or pork
closed my eyes, lowered my fork
I’d hankered for that suckling pig
but I tasted shrimp, and couldn’t renege
Lightning didn’t strike me, I did a jig
of the (shrimp) cocktail, I took a swig
Upon awakening, my stomach was rent asunder
Hmm. I'd evaded the lightning ~ but not the thunder
____________________________________________
Sometimes older Jews tell young'uns that if they eat
pork, they'll be struck by lightning... Seems they
should mention shrimp and other non-kosher fare too!
love
belief
loyalty
the lubricants
clever couples use
to soften the frictions
they come across in their lives
care and warmth are the nuts and bolts
by fixing them their ties they retain
spouses who follow this make happy homes
The High Constable received quite a jolt
When the nut he nabbed decided to bolt
T'was discovered he muffed
When the scoundrel he cuffed
Worse yet, he fled on the Constable's colt
As nature hurls its bolts at
Whatever stands taller than anything else, and brings it to the ground
In the same way, God humbles all those who are arrogant, conceited,
Presumptuous, and proud!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 October 2022
This is the last poem forming a trilogy of Spenserian Sonnets written in trochee pentameter relating to the sea. The first poem is titled Mike's Bar, second poem Shanghaied, third poem Bucket Of Bolts.
Servin' me hard time on boat that's steamin',
doin' me best keepin' engines goin',
stokin' fire and me sweat greatly streamin',
dripping, I must keep the coal a throwin'.
Gotta stay the furnace face a glowin',
breakin' me back goin' somewhere so far.
Haven't seen the light of day not knowin'
time when I could see a lonesome bright star.
Why did I drink wine with Rose in Mike' Bar?
She bedeviled me with wine and sweet kiss.
Old tooth liquored me good, showing me scar.
She slips me a Micky these good eyes miss.
Leavin' bucket o' bad rusty bolts sure.
Taking me chance jumping boat when we moor.
[SIZE=5][B]Defying Lightning Bolts From Ancient Skies[/B][/SIZE]
Walking in the past, down memory lane
Seeking courage there, prove I am still sane
Sharp sword of truth cutting through many lies
Defying lightning bolts from ancient skies!
On that journey, to find peace, in new hope
Perhaps even falling down a rocky slope
Aware that my mind has deceived my heart
Seeking truth not deceptions, tis a new start.
Once reaching those imagined shining fields
I pluck forbidden fruits, to see what truth yields
Sword raised high, to cut in so much deeper
Found were black lies, gems of the grim reaper!
Walking in the past, down memory lane
Seeking courage there, prove I am still sane
Sharp sword of truth cutting through many lies
Defying lightning bolts from ancient skies!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-25-2017
Rhyme
San Diego
are now Chargers less
will they win LA?
Purple lightning bolts
Light the pitch black rainy sky
Displaying magic
Cults bolts
A belief in humans with differing names
Demand and remand for fames
How it started and how it ends
Creates history a mystery with these trends.
Culture is proved with publishing epics
With heart stealing suave of suffixes and prefixes
One or two or three or four
Signs of hallmark in every door.
Differing beliefs makes locoman poor
Who stands least in their life tour
But pope ,& monks & saints & priest
Sitting tall and having feast.
Worldly popular bible, gita, and Koran
Contains peaceful trace in every electron
Whether true or false us yet to trace
But true with supreme deity in single face.
Bolts and nuts litter the highway
Rickety cars shedding their parts
Contractors' pride in Naija
More potholes to serve the roads
Roads built on holes and filth
Blind they become when they pass by
With extra cushion to absorb the shocks
Potholes and filth don't mean a thing
Paid to punish the poor
The cost of road use is often death
With effrontery, faces display
Gullies and rubbish strangulating traffic
Same points for shameful political portraits
Unkind faces forced on the people
Only contractors and their payers celebrate
Bandits, thieves and police celebrate
Using their property (road) as bait to rob
Potholes important for extortion and killing
People driven in confusion and pain
Permanent engagement in ignorance
You said the 'could have's and 'would have's
Were irrelevant
That the should haves mattered
I said we were lightning bolts
Electric and beautiful
From a distance we looked like threads of cotton
Or orange pith
Hanging delicate in the sky but we were
Dangerous and
Strong and
Loud
And always incapable of touching down
In the same place
At the same time.
Watch out 4 them lightening bolts ..
if the lectricic do take awful holt
Besmirched unwitted irredescent
the moon may slide across your present ...
Begone bewail some awful deed
the bindi's have now gone to seed
when tripping through the burrs you go
you'll probably curse the so and so's
Don Johnson
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