Beneath moon's pearly milk-white might,
the Sidhe dance in silver light.
Their laughter lingers, laced with lore,
whispered wish, a phantom door.
The harvest hinges on their hand,
they bless barley, blight the land.
A chalice filled with honeyed mead,
sway their favor, sate their greed.
The moon, a mother, mounts the sky,
her phases flicker and fall.
She marks the time for tilling true,
and paints the dusk in pearled dew.
Áine treads on the treetops tall,
her lunar glow engulfs all.
The Sidhe arise in robes of air,
claim the night, to rule, to dare.
A man once met them, mad with moon,
their melody now his tune.
They stole his shadow, spared his sight,
left him hollow, husked by night.
Beware the wane, the waxing glow,
Sidhe will reap what mortals sow.
A crust of bread, a cup of wine~
or lose self to their design.
They ride moons rays, they weave the wind,
their realm starts where ours has thinned.
The moon, their mirror, masks their might,
bridge of bone, a path of light.
So leave them milk and lock your gate,
Sidhe choose fate to bequeath.
The moon may grant, the moon may take~
dawn breaks; hearts will ache beneath.
Gainesville Four went missing on Halloween Night 1974
Three friends and a mother of the youngest one, Fee Fore
Fee’s real name was Fiona, and she was a delight
As were her friends Char and Lynne who went missing that night
Though this was fifty-one years back, there has never been a trace
Whatever happened to these four, must have been erased.
Not a neck bone or a leg bone, a tooth or any DNA
Nothing has shown up of the women who went away
Their purses were found in the house, next to the front door
It is as if they were marched out, maybe by more than four
The parents of two of the girls left this earth without knowing
What happened to their daughters on Halloween that was snowing
There were no prints, because the snow melted by morning time
Their cars were in the driveway – red, black, blue and lime.
Gainesville Four have been missing for fifty-one years I’m afraid.
I wonder if they were taken by aliens out of this Everglade?
Gold on ancient atoll?
Gone be prospector's hope!
Gore, doth coat the brazen bull?
Golem, get the rope?
Best for those politest men?
Better think again.
Bone a-broken, dive in den?
Flicker on the fen...
Torn like life tormented?
Break upon, O wave.
How the gods lamented!
O shroud hung on the grave!
Yellow as a predator's eye?
Dun the desert doubt.
Riddles, rivers, thy reply?
Time will sort it out.
Plight of all the human race?
Leaving like a trace.
O defeated, thy disgrace!
Cholera, catch case!
Syllable, O sylvan!
Each to preserve a life!
Dreams once started, thus began!
Razor's edge or knife!
Wail, O watching widows?
We'd really rather not.
Soul a-sold, what doth ye owes?
Death, be but a thought!
The skin remembers, even when the mind tries to forget
Scars etched deeper than bone, a roadmap of agony
They say time heals all wounds, they lie
Time only buries them deeper under the layer of lies
I used to feel joy and sorrow, life danced with empathy
Now? A hollow echo in a vacant music hall
Hope, they ripped it out, tendril by bleeding tendril
Left a barren landscape, scorched earth where nothing grows
Callous they call me, emotionless, a monster forged in fire
They don't see the demons I carry or the ghost at my side
They see the wreckage of the person I once was
Before the darkness claimed me, before all hope died
This echo resounding with the ghost of all my screams
All that I still try to bury in the darkest part of my soul
Only the screams refuse to stay buried, pushing daisies
Ones that are already wilted and dead as they rise
Sadly it mimics us, sadly I am dead yet still alive
In search of the light, a light I know will never shine
Timeless existence
Where does this come from, and what is our job in this incomprehensible subsistence?
The answer is unknown, but the reason exists and it’s anonymous, its life secret; the planner
But we are in his galactic network like axons and single cells in his endless and perfect mind
Hmm, maybe I am an electrical flow of information in his mind, in this incredible universe
I don’t know the answer, but flying in the galaxy is an amazing journey, just fly in life far
My spaceship is an ark, a fragment of Noah’s Ark, floats in three dimensions of space
A fragment of Noah’s Ark? No, it’s a lifeboat only. What means, is it? Life never stops
Never, but I am homeless in space, I must find a new planet, a new ancient living world
And live the life of existence, God will give me from my bone a lady to start a new life.
We observe
We gasp in anticipation
What is this, a chicken bone, a Ferrari, a bee? Why do they even belong here?
Revelation flashes by like a cottage cheese comment
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I do learn much Karma Kreulu.
With a nod to Macbeth's three weird sisters...
Midst rats, black cats, and screeching bats,
Cackling crones in pointy hats
Add a rag, a bone, a hank of hair
To a bubbling pot in their witches' lair.
Next a drop of your blood to mix into the stew
As they mutter and moan o'er this most loathsome brew.
Harken well as the hags recite ancient verses
That invoke magic spells and malevolent curses.
An elixir for love, another for fame,
If fortune's your goal, play the witches' game.
If malice or spite for another's your bent,
They've special potions for ladies, and some just for gents.
But be wary, my friends, for I'm telling you true,
When the game is played out, and the bill has come due,
Don't try to renege, and don't be a griper,
If you dance to his music, you must pay the piper.
Pay promptly on time, don't default or denounce,
'cause witches are bit**es when checks start to bounce.
Blue cheese doesn't appeal to me
Food should never be blue!
Orange and red and green are okay
To mention you just a few!
A man's suit should never be pink
It gives off a certain vibe!
It portrays a kind of different touch
A thing you might want to hide!
You be the judge, what about ice cream?
Would you order a flavour called cow?
Probably not, but you never know
Could be the next craze after sow!
One more thing then I really must go
What would you think of purple fudge?
Not your thing? Doesn't turn your crank?
Just give your funny bone a nudge!
Whatta about thinking a little less usual
Why can't we step outside of the box?
Like a body builder wearing a pink tutu
Wearing glasses and knee high socks!
She is colder than
Most with emotions.
With her it's just going
Through the motions.
Her womanly ways and
Perfect figure.
No hesitation when she
Pulls the trigger.
Her tan skin and
Dark eyes.
BEWARE! A word
To the wise.
Her full lips,
Her long fingernails.
She is 100%
Bone-a-fide female.
You smile when you
See her look.
You're guessing, she is
A closed book.
Her radiant smile sets
You at ease.
The way she moves,
With expertise.
She is at her weakest
In the morning.
She never prepares when
She hears the warning.
No matter what,
A smile on her face.
It's like she has
Fallen from grace.
You can envy her
Lack of attention.
Easy going, calm,
No sign of tension.
No emotions show
In her eyes.
No hint of confusion,
Or look of surprise.
She is not stuck-up
Doesn't brag or boast.
Be careful,
She is colder than most.
Turbo1904 ?
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery
Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest
Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
Spicy smell metamorphoses
in the garbage.
The same chunk that stimulates
the taste buds
induces nausea. This is a bin
of dual relief.
As the darkness falls on the bare
reality, an arm
stretches through the hole
that nobody tries
to caulk. The stray man picks up
a gnawed chicken
leg bone, a scrape of fried mackerel,
some steamed rice
mixed with reddish yellow curry...
He recycles the
junk. Hunger can burn away
any disgust.
First appeared in The Literary Hatchet
Everyone knows the limerick king, Jack,
penning funnies, spreading laughter galore.
His wit will give your funny bone a smack,
a legend who'll go down in 'soup' folklore.
Not just for limericks had he a knack,
for his charm one could not help but adore;
so many he touched and when he looks back,
bid he know he remains a cherished mentor.
In collaboration with Maureen McGreavy
19 September 2018
In honour to a great poet and friend, Jack Ellison, who has retired from Poetry Soup..
Everyone knows the limerick king, Jack,
penning funnies, spreading laughter galore.
His wit will give your funny bone a smack,
a legend who'll go down in 'soup' folklore.
Not just for limericks had he a knack,
for his charm one could not help but adore;
so many he touched and when he looks back,
bid he know he remains a cherished mentor.
A collaboration with Silent One
For Jack Ellison, upon his retirement from the Soup
I belief is that pain and sin nature are related
I believe their first cousins
You can't have one without the other
In the beginning was man
Then God gave him to name all the animals
he praised and worship God and farmed
But man said he was lonely
So God preformed the first medical operation
Took a bone, a rib from Adam
All this
Then God closed his chest
Why you ask
it's because God His own witness
and if you haven't noticed yet
Pain lives within the reach of sin nature
09/17/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Dog Gone , Bone Search
Seeking, this yard, looking for a bone
not a cool drink, just not for me
A bone, a bone, master still on the phone
but, there, there is my favorite tree!
Sweet release, now back to my hard task
cat races away, why I have no clue
If only there was somebody here to ask
and where hides a big bone they knew!
Over there, fresh dirt shows a treasure
buried beneath must be a large bone
When I dig it up I can then just measure
while master stays busy on the phone.
Mine at last, the great prize I so graved
so tasty, this delicious treat
Should I keep it and have it engraved
or yield to hunger and just eat?
Great quest it was, certainly no lark
a bone, a bone found was this food
Time to scratch and let out a loud bark
this delicious bone sets that mood!
Master races out with same bowl of crap
bone now gone, I ate it so quick
Time to ignore him, pretending a nap
I may be only a dog but I am still slick!
R.J. Lindley
Jan, 22nd 1971
Note - Old poem, light verse and bored, goofing
around one night.
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