volcanic
activity
liquid
magma
cools
contracts
chisels
rasps
measured
patterns
settling to
hexagonal
colonnade
morphed
entablature
unique
marvel
unsigned
sculpture
SCARLET BREEZES
Scarlet breezes swirl through the square,
Beckoning us to come
In bright, elysian fare.
A cello and a drum,
Clarinets and trumpets
Arise and stir and glitter in the fountain,
Around your sable ringlets,
In the cloister on the mountain.
There are diamond drops of rain
In your long and raven, perfumed mane.
Let us wander to the amorous refrain
Of violins by the ivory colonnade.
And there in the somnolent, redolent shade
I shall take your tender, fair, white hands,
Where only rapturous love commands,
As we rove among the blooms,
In the garden by the ocean,
Reveling in deep emotion
Beneath our gilded palace,
And its grand, palatial rooms.
And I shall kiss your lovely face,
In a state of imperial, gracious grace,
To the chime of harps and wedding strains
Which will emanate from daisies, dahlias and the breeze,
From the chapels by the rustic lanes,
Beneath the golden linden trees.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
Colonnade of Spanish style here
State's first time brick plaza seen near
Sacred old bells chime loud most clear
Knees, heads low bow
Holy cemetery's so dear
Saints rest, sleep now
Your castle has a moat
to mark for the unawares
the point of danger,
the change of rule.
My fort has a juice box
Your castle has a drawbridge
to allow in only those
who pass the "Hark! Who goes"
test and cause the chains
to move.
My fort has peak roof
for peeking out
and, on occasion
for peeking in.
But only for the Lucky Few
and only in the Lucky Few
moments when all is well,
for a spell.
Your castle has
both balustrade and colonnade,
meurtrière 'n its parapets
for staving off the storms
and againststanding and
withstanding arméd swarms.
My fort has a
pair a pets:
this fluffster at my calf,
snoring and this stuffster
in crook of arm;
well-worn, with eye
missing but stuffed
animals see with squishy bits
inside, not these button eyes.
Your castle has barbican and portcullis.
My fort has a wittle wiccan. Jealous?
Your castle has both crenellation and machicolation.
My fort has an introvert's narration and ceaseless cogitation.
Your castle has walls of
stone, long-charred by dragon
breath. With dents by dint
of Minotaur and Harpy.
My fort is cotton batting,
linen for winnin'
battles with monsters
greater than your gods.
A friend is one who you can trust
To be always kind and always just.
When you are lonely or afraid,
A friend will be your colonnade.
When truth is lost in masquerade,
A friend's strong hand will be your aid.
When times are hard and hit like a gust,
A friend is one who you can trust.
When life feels like an ambuscade,
A friend's fierce love will always pervade.
When all around seems like a lonely esplanade,
A friend's loyal camaraderie shall be displayed.
A friend is one who you can trust,
To be always faithful, never unjust,
To love unconditionally and never degrade,
A friend is the one who will be your stockade.
constant ringing ears
invading colonnade nears…
homeless streaming tears
Robb A. Kopp
© Nov.13.2012
Stand erect in rows
To their architects delight
A testimony
By Robb A. Kopp