I like to think that you were there
when muezzin trills called to prayer.
Calm stillness drifted in au clair,
my thoughts were pining on the air.
I like to think that you were there
as pastel-colored skies so rare
unfolded day's soft morning glare.
A comfort holding no compare.
I like to think that you were there
in uniform, so debonaire!
A dream of mine and yours to share.
We two were one, a single pair.
Desert winds shifted sandbars bare
with hateful, boastful, intense flare.
As I stand in hypnotic stare,
I like to think that you were there.
Well, here we are at the start of a brand new day
Who knows what exciting new things lie just ahead
Will I win the Lotto?
Might have had a better chance had I bought a ticket
Will a long lost friend suddenly reappear?
Not likely since he passed away a few years back
Will I regain my youthful, debonaire, good looks?
Did I ever have them?
Dreams can be so realistic at times
That when we wake, it takes us a bit of time
To clear our heads and get back to reality
Have you ever tried remembering a dream
How frustrating is that
You know it was filled with joy, laughter, and good times
But can't remember it no matter how hard we try
Strange but so very annoying
Sure would be great to continue on where we left off
The mind... a real enigma!
King of the Jungle
Queuing with my homies
Houdinis every one.
No sharpened tongues, but scissors,
To calm the shaggy throng
Not all blokes in this queue,
Despite lockdown's grooming blooper,
As I stand here and review,
Will contest my Bradley Cooper
Alas, Delilah wins.
It's time to shave my greying locks
Hirsute-less head, Yul Brynner,
Now the look my ego rocks
Now a simple peasant
With falling dreams, so vain.
No more the Isolation King
With glorious flowing mane..
My crowning jewel.
Majestic theft!
The jungle cries, her heart bereft..
As gothic curls now hit the floor;
The swooning fans will be no more
And yet..
Enthroned here, buys me precious time..
To formulate this simple rhyme
And meditate upon what's passed
As hairy shoes I have amassed.
I dwell on more important things
While scissors snap, and clipper sings
Of friendship. Love.
Of breathing air.
Despite the loss of debonaire..
The blessing of recaptured choices.
The privilege of freedom's voices.
And now my head, so strangely free;
Reminds of who I'm meant to be.
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2021
My Medical Moonstone
His eyes are a beautiful sea-green.
His hair, a combination of grey
strewn upon stands of gold.
Gentle, a great sense of humor!
Who is this man?
Why, he is my family doctor!
He actually has the ability to laugh
and to be himself!
Not a conceited man, nor a stiff
white coated physician who prances
about being debonaire.
But even better, reads my poetry.
Right there in his office,
During an all too short, medical
journey.
All he can get me to do is have
my blood tested.
I will not take drugs, nor do any
other tests.
It's my body, my choice.
He allows me to have my voice!
He was not an easy find in a new
city.
But I hope I do die under his care.
That type of doctor-patient relationship
is so very rare.
My "Golden God" doctor!
Oh, so human and true.
It is no wonder your patients,
have the highest respect for you!
November 12, 2019
My mind is truly a unique functioning kind
Been written up in the “Amazing Human Mind”
Most poets are unaware
I'm still so debonaire
Yet my brain is brighter than nine percent of mankind!
(Now we hear from the murderess. She explains
that she killed Calmette because he published
love letters which she had written to her husband,
a minister in the government. It is true that she
made her own way to the police station, having
given her word that she would answer charges.
"Le Gratin" is the "upper crust" of French society.)
4. Henriette Caillaux
He got his just come-uppance. Ça suffit.
What else is there to make an issue of?
Oh, very well: you wish to know my plea.
My plea is, I'm a woman, and in love.
I didn't leave the scene. I waited there.
I am a lady, I'd done nothing wrong.
My attitude, you think, is debonaire?
I said I'd keep my word. I came along.
What kind of scoundrel publishes the letters
that pass between two lovers? Tell me that!
He sinned against our love, against his betters:
The cur deserved to die, I'll tell you flat!
The jurors? Do they tipple, make love? Dance?
They are red-blooded Frenchmen? You will see.
Le Gratin, c'est Le Gratin. France is France.
No jury will convict. Take it from me.
When someone's out to damage and disparage,
When all the chips are down, this is a marriage.
My wish to be thankful day and night,
To follow all the traditions that are right.
God's love and friendship, a powerful friend,
A beautiful day from beginning to end.
To be with relatives handsome and fair,
They prove that they care.
The days at church are a memory kind,
Giving us piece of mind.
An Easter wish to cook a delicious dish,
Favorite receipe for potatoes and fish.
To meet a man handsome and debonaire,
Let us prove we care.
Thankful for God's blessings on Easter day,
To the Lord God we pray.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
I waded through a field of
she loves me she loves me knots
Needing to tie her bow to my happiness
I searched vigorously
Until I found that one wise daisy
For I knew she was my forever
My heart was incapable of
being with anyone else
I planned out the path
To the aisle of our bliss
For she was and is
everything that matters
That smile that breathes life into my days
I feel comfort and excitement in her arms
When I found her
I had no need to look further
I left the searching to the undecided
The fickle fools
Looking for their Jennie in a bottle
With a glass held in a hand
What's your sign
Clever pickup lines
Thinking them prettier
With each sip of wine
I preferred a softer approach
Not particularly smooth
or debonaire
Yet she too
miraculously was drawn to me
Somehow able to see
The spark within the blue
of my adoring eyes
Pupils dilated
Increasing double in size
Twenty two years
Ten thousand kisses
This is
My witness
My sweetie
is the perfect Mrs.
No field
Of Daisies
Will ever make
This mind hazy
For I know
With all my heart
She Loves Me
So thankful
We tied the knot!
For SKAT's Romantic Pen Contest.
Well, here we are at the start of a brand new day
Who knows what exciting new things lie just ahead
Will I win the Lotto?
Might have had a better chance had I purchased a ticket
Will a long lost friend suddenly reappear?
Not likely since he passed away a few years back
Will I regain my youthful, debonaire, good looks?
Did I ever have them?
Dreams can be so realistic at times
That when we wake, it takes us a bit of time
To clear our heads and get back to reality
Have you ever tried remembering a dream
How frustrating is that
You know it was filled with joy, laughter, and good times
But can't remember it no matter how hard we try
Strange but so very annoying
Sure would be great to continue on where we left off
The mind... a real enigma!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Trying to gather the laughter through her corridores..
A winding passage his labyrinth these words their castle
My own, child unto a man then an infant; stain glassed doors
Still, taunting the mockingbird; whom claims this world shall be ?
Betwixt he as she abominations running free; contiguous both
Flesh and spirit; favourable, their common wealth her cockatrice's
Cock-a-doodle-doos ? Benny with his jets; Johnny-jump-up's, minstrel
Song swaying in the wind her camouflage mercenaries; castration's
Mischief-makers ? Enshrined this carcass dodo bird, debonaire....
Continental congress viceroy post, Elizabeth; continuum's, black plague
In elliptical, writings upon the wall; living, breathing, truant, documents; high
Sea, treason; white wigs and ruby red lips ? Passing to as fro his, season; wicked.
I have lived three hundred years
Look into my eyes if you dare
I will fill you with desire
I'm pale yet so debonaire
Seduction an ancient curse
Within your veins is my prize
We do a tortured tango
Look deeply into my eyes
The strength of a matador
Yet there's no heat from my loins
I crave the warmth of your blood
With your pulse my mind joins
Your wish is to be consumed
I dip you back take my bite
Drink until I'm satisfied
Gaze at you in the moonlight
Now you are forever mine
The years will become a blur
What I wanted is now gone
I desire what you were
For Archaic Poet's Old School Vampire Contest
Contest name: "Poems From The Vampire!"
Written Friday the 15th, 2013
By: Richard Lamoureux
I went with Old School Rhyming as well.
He is a master of illusory feats
From out of nowhere he pulls a parakeet
After doing that
He then pulls a rabbit out of his hat
From out of his palm things suddenly appear
As if they came out of thin air
His audience looks in disbelief
As he pulls a bouquet ( from his sleeve)
Abra cadabra are the words we hear
As his lovely assistant disappears
Then he waves his magic wand with flair
And suddenly she reappears
He can tell you the card you picked
It's just a part of his magic tricks
He can put things together that he took apart
But he just cant mend his broken heart
He waves his magic wand so debonaire
Wishing that the one he loves will appear
"Abra cadabra" he says again
And his tears fall down like rain
He can pull rabbits out of hats
But the master of illusion cannot bring love back
--------------------------------------------------------------
A White Man ,
Once upon a time , long , long ago,
Gave a glint of a hint to a now, wildly popular show,
Like a wallflower, electrified with an unseen superpower,
he let his feet go,
All of a sudden, there was magic in the air,
people started to stare, at the moves at once strange, yet somehow also magnetically debonaire,
who would have thought, generations later children would be taught,
these moves for an entire race ,so long sought,
and those people at Missy,s party who looked askance,
now realize they had the first chance,
to see the initial phase of the Nationwide Craze,
The Whiteman,s Dance!!!
On the couch, legs covered, Deborah sits in delight
Cary, saves the scene being so debonaire
Small talk ensued, flowery now, was full of fight
On the couch, legs covered, Deborah sits in delight
Pretense, with lies, then excuses, then spite
At the end of this scene everyone knows how they fare
On the couch, legs covered, Deborah sits in delight
Cary, saves the scene being so debonaire
© Jul 26 For Andrea's Triolet contest
Movie: An Affair To Remember
(Dedicated to Anthony Ainley who died May 3, 2004. He and I had something in
common. We were both born on August 20.)
Anthony Ainley was a british actor who starred in Doctor Who.
He starred as Master number two.
He starred in ten episodes from 1981 to 1989.
He was a favorite actor of mine.
He had black hair and a goatee.
He played as an evil character but that was only on TV.
Ainley brought magic to the screen.
He dressed in black and he really did look mean.
Some people prefer Delgado because he was debonaire.
But Ainley gave the audience a bigger scare.
Great entertainment was what he supplied.
We lost a great artist when he died.
His character brought death and disaster.
Ainley was perfect for the part of the Master.
He was a talented person and it's a crime for him to have to leave.
Now that he's gone, we Doctor Who fans will grieve.
Related Poems