Into my death I’d delve before I go,
Not out of curiosity per se,
Where, why and how I sure would like to know
To steal a slim chance to cheat my doomsday.
I’d leave off nasty habits, give or take,
I’d drink 8 cups, eat oatmeal, exercise,
I’d say bye to booze but for liver’s sake,
I’d go early to bed, early to rise.
I’d nurture and sustain my mental health,
I’d bury anger issues far aside,
I’d donate generously of my wealth,
By virtues’ pristine mandates I’d abide.
I’d avoid all traffic and derailed trains,
I’d let the crowded cruises go with ease,
I’d pass on risky, defective airplanes,
Goodbye exotic beaches and palm trees.
I’d much rather live hazard free and gay,
All healthy in one piece, body and mind,
I’d laugh in the face of fate if I may -
But from bland boredom most likely I’d die!
Categories:
damocles, death, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
A gray cloud hangs ominously
On the horizon, overshadowing
The last golden rays of the sun.
Below, Damocles waits;
The sword hangs by a hair!
In a great white building
Men and women squabble -
Moving chess pieces to
Make decisions that affect
Crises of lives and livelihoods,
One-upmanship the game of the day.
Meanwhile the black cloud grows,
And thunder begins to rumble.
Lightning flashes in the cloud.
A man comes out of the building -
Waving and crying triumphantly,
“We got what we wanted!”
And the thunder rolls, and brilliant
Bolts of lightning strike the ground.
The rains come, and the winds whip,
Tearing the shelter from those
Flinching helpless, beneath.
Jobs vanish; the sick have no succor.
Wall Street flails from the
Shock waves of decisions forged
At the last possible minute
By the heedless powers that be.
Reverberations circle the globe,
Shaking the foundations
Of our integrity and credibility.
In the terrible ensuing storm,
Hopes for the future are dashed,
And Damocles is truly lost,
For the sword has fallen!
Categories:
damocles, angst, emotions, political,
Form: Free verse
the sword looms overhead
here i sit rags to riches
but any moment to be dead
when it falls hope only it misses
I rule my feelings
with an iron-clad cage
but from the sword on the ceiling
i feel the immiting rage
my locked heart bends
i am a stranger
to my own friends
that is the danger
of the damocles in me
visable for all to see
Categories:
damocles, emotions, history,
Form: Sonnet
DAMOCLES DAMNS CHEESE
I made every day soothingly slumber some
To bring naught the night so soon
Days I prayed with no moon soon to come
Since the sunshine’s sword of separation arrived late afternoon
I let never one day simply skip by
I cherished the color emerald in your eyes
then I committed to memory each dawning sky
And how one smile of yours could clear the most obstinate and objectionable of skies
I enveloped every day with both of my tenacious arms
Expert extremities bent explicitly on exquisite expectations
Each moment of sunshine further fanned the flame of your charms
But there was always the threat and specter of that sword of separation
Damn Damocles and damn the sword he wielded in vain
His sword wasn’t anything compared to separation’s blade forged to inflict incalculable pain
Damocles might have had a lover or two with whom he spent time
But the sword of separation never severed his soul from the sublime
By detriment’s design
As it did mine
© 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE…~free cee!~
Categories:
damocles, angst, day, day,
Form: Rhyme
Sit under the sword
That hangs by a thread
And you may find out
What Damocles said
“My life is in check
And makes me unsure
A terrible wreck
Insoluble cure”
But ordinary life
No difference or sage
A book to endure
How many the page
And danger exist
Around every turn
A fire of time
The book may well burn
So sit in his place
What difference to make
When thread to consider
We all must partake
And biding of time
The sword may well fall
If by fate design
Some cardinal hall
Categories:
damocles, allegory, angst, death, introspection,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Swords
Drawn
Swiftly
From tarnished
Sheaths of bulbous flesh
Transforms pain into audible
Snippets of abhorrent venom sired by taut tongues.
Categories:
damocles, inspirational
Form: Fibonacci
The grasp of the dew-brushed nettle stung
As the raven, his beak-cracked voice proclaimed,
The desolator of all possible worlds
Smelted in copper and finally named;
Hung heavy with threads of fire and gold frost,
Good rhetoric spat of earth and worms,
Whipped the snapping black feathered bones,
Parting proto-fascist on vengeful terms.
Ever hanging above the stripped-skull night,
Poison-tipped and impatient to stake the mind,
How the thorn tree crows wove savage crowns,
As if parasite driven, eugenic designed;
All the waiting and wonder and damage done,
All the whore-monger politics raddled with spin,
Under the omens of Damocles sword,
Where does lie decease and truth begin?
Categories:
damocles, allegory, confusion, death, history,
Form: Verse