Not an occasion for the
Queasy or fainthearted
But the start of a journey
Into waters uncharted
Not an element of skill
Just a game of luck and chance
To throw five dice on the table
Watch them skitter and dance
And each display their value
Only the number one counted
And as the game progressed
My fear and dread mounted
Seventh one ordered
Fourteenth one paid
Twenty first one drank
That’s how the game was played
No limits to the concoctions
Just order what you think
And pray down in your heart
You weren’t the one to drink.
Just a game of luck and chance
Not the slightest bit of skill
Many a poor loser has retired
Confused, bemused and ill.
Called Chicago in the village
In the mess called Snake Eye
Many player has longed
Just to crawl away and die.
WEST WIND 2
Be willingly wise with worthy ways as us Westerners
cos winter wind of woes wanders about
like a wandering Wolf windsurfing in wildlife.
Winter windup waves of weird wonder
wondrous enough to bring back Wayne Wonder
and wheeled at will the whole world with wows
which pose pridely like a waddy,
a wacko walking within waves of woes;
Whatsoever west wind wagged we wandered
as we become wanners, wearing wan expression,
warmly staring like a Wagga Wagga wading-bird.
Welcome was the words of windy west
as winsome breeze wapped my window and
wafted her sensuous witty wet perfume,
into my wide Afro-Western nostrils
waving wheats and weeds at will,
twas a whopping war wafture waxing souls warmly.
Why would wingless wild west wind worries
yet still, wags us with it's wondrous waves,
withdraws our eardrums with her windy drums
and whithered the plantation of peace
from the furrow of the fainthearted?
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Alliteration/Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April 2021.
crowded poppy field cover the trenches
red crowns hide bone meal and sculls
abundance disfigures the pain
and yet Field Marshall and Tambourine Major
demand endless encores
as if another take would enhance the applause
while puppets on war strings scatter engraved
on tombstones and grief devastated and soulless
march on and paint the white flag with blood
because innocence is not for the fainthearted
honour and glory will grant you a medal
for posterity to cherish instead of your smile
the markets will take stock and wrap human remains
in balance sheets for you are merely
a number on ledgers and history’s accounts
a fallen hero on somebody else’s sword
25th March 2021
KARENA FROM SARENA
Like a bat out of hell,
In the dark does she dwell.
Thinks she’s La Belle,
But in fact a mere shell,
Her name is Karena,
And she lives in Sarena.
She tells fantasy tales,
About females and males,
Oh my, not the same,
All over again,
For upon my word,
All she says is absurd!
She assumes she is clever,
And to this end will never,
Admit she’s outsmarted,
That is only for the fainthearted
Says she is humble not famous,
Her thoughts quite outrageous!
So if you ever hear of Karena,
Who lives in Sarena,
Steer clear, for your name
Made mud by this dame
She burps and blurbs, insults hurls
A woman whose mind twists and twirls!
Pure Fantasy you say,
Absolutely, all the way!
Hatred comes in many a grade.
Divergent backgrounds will leave some swayed.
Aggressors will rarely share the facts.
They hide and trawl and wait to attack.
Kindness is not found in their hearts.
Antipathy and malice tears them apart.
They look around for power to gain.
Depraved contending is now their game.
Rogues will come and rogues will go.
Sadistic victimizing is now their goal.
Awfully imply they test our decrees.
These fainthearted consignments are never pleased.
His sins, many thousands of them,
Lie buried in the anonymous soil.
Over his mantelpiece a proverb hangs:
"Aus den Augen, aus dem Sinn."
On his shelf "Mein Kampf" is visible.
"It must never happen again,"
he is quick to reassure the fainthearted.
All else is new:
His car, his house, his political complexion,
His hairstyle, his face, everything.
Everything? No, not quite everything.
If you want a new car, you can buy one.
If you want a new house, you may get the money.
If you want a new political complexion,
You can always change your daily newspaper.
If you want a new hairstyle,
You can always pay a little extra.
If you want a new a new face, it can be arranged
(or rearranged).
And the heart, the old hard heart?
Ask for a transplant.
You can always ask, but
Not for love or money
Can you change the past.
Aus den Augen, aus dem Sinn Out of sight, out of mind
There will always be an England:
roast beef and Yorkshire pud
assure the most fainthearted
that all is for the good.
Is anyone still doubtful?
This thought our hopes restore:
Marmite, baked beans and crumpets
provision us galore.
Coffee at eleven, at five o'clock high tea,
banishing the terrors that met us at the Somme,
kept us and Big Ben ticking
and will to Kingdom Come.
Nelsons' on his column.
Against Juncker's spiteful quips
no naval power can save us,
but we do have fish and chips
Fabulous ice box ease
Fruit dried, sticky so sweet
Folded into Graham's
Famous brown cracker crumbs
Finely chopped nuts~yum! yum!
Famished come visit, stay
Fainthearted go away
Use sweetened condensed milk as a binder
Place a sheet of waxed paper into the Graham Cracker box
place the mixed ingredients into the box to form a rectangle
cover tightly with some type of cling wrap and let set up in
the refrigerator for at least overnight..
You can add~~ marshmallows(miniture ones), maraschino cherries with some of their liquid if a can of condensed milk isn't enough to moisten the crackers..You can use raisins, or other dried fruits if you like..I use those dried candied pineapple and cherries available at Christmas so it will be very colorful..Originally I used Brazil Nuts for the nuts and it does add a very nice flavor..It needs a cup of nuts, about two cups of the dried fruits..
The pain that young man felt was very close
to what hell would be like. Richard watched
and heard this poor soul scream and beg for
his life over and over again. Richard
did not have a conscience. The beatings that
he took from both his parents created this
monster. He was immune to someone else's
horrific pains, It didn't bother him. When he
was a child he would tie two cats together by
their tails and throw them over a clothesline,
and watch them claw each other to death.
The film was completed. The poor man was
eaten to where most his bones were exposed
and his flesh was gone. He then delivered the
the film to his boss, a well known mobster.
9/18/2015 PLEASE READ IAN GUYLER'S
RATMAN COMETH..................................
You can actually see this horrendous video
by going to You Tube and going to Serial
Killer Hitman Richard Kuklinski The
Iceman Documentary. This is not for the
fainthearted. WARNING VERY GRAPHIC
MATERIAL for those of you that want to
view this. Also he was also known as the
Iceman. A book The Iceman written by
Anthony Bruno is his life story. It will
turn your world upside down. Incredible
reading.
When night burns starless like a tomb,
shadow exults the dark and gloom.
Our souls hone fears sharp as a blade,
and every path holds certain doom.
To dare a trek on nights thus made
all rue in heart their fool's crusade.
Through shadowed vestige, mute and still
all dreams of past and future fade.
Fainthearted now, we lack the will
to slow our heart, to mount the hill,
where specters sing their doleful tune,
and dread alone makes one's blood chill.
Dark, boundless night would have us swoon,
so pray that safety comes, and soon.
When souls feel trapped by shadows dire
we cast our hopes upon the moon.
The moon sustains as twilight's fire,
it tarries until dusk expire.
When sunlight ends the night's deep mire,
we'll share new hope by dawn's bright pyre.
~~~Night Burns~~~
JADE
by Rosemarie Rowley
I knew you fainthearted what side you were on
When you talked of social reality: not Jesus at the well
With the Samaritan woman, or the invisible loss of power
Which halts her speech and causes His deference
Holding her in trust for what she is.
You can talk of rural communes in China
Till the cows come home – leading them will be a girl
Bearing a key-ring and a dead black raven.
Your ways are sweet indeed, nectar and honey
And vinegar to end it all: you’d let all the
Wells in the world run dry for a principle
And proudly show us the papier-mache women who survived,
Embalmed with bitter hope and urgent salvation,
To tell the tale on electro-magnetic tape.
The dark of the night sky: clear, unlimited space
Lights and a bright white moon, of clouds no trace
The mood suddenly changes, the lights are faded
The vault of heaven is raided, the azure invaded
Realization in a flash, the barren moon stands abashed
Now fainthearted, lily-livered, her quiet joy is crashed
Hide not your face behind clouds the color of yellow dirt
I know your phases, feel your moods, I know you`re hurt
Battered, barren, lonely, evanescent orb of night
From your cursed dance peace you`ll never find
But I`ll be your fire eater, one who devours the sun
Artemis, Luna, Diana, your true name knows none
It was near our anniversary
what could i get my wife,
something really special
prove the quality of our life.
She started dropping hints
about what that could be,
something really shiny
to give her big whoopee!
Then she mentioned speed,
nought to one hundred and fifty,
she really put her foot down
it had to be real niffty.
Yes her mind was on the fast,
that was what she reckoned.
Nought to one hundred and fifty
in under just three seconds!
Then my penny dropped
it was not for the fainthearted,
I bought her bathroom scales!!!
Then the fight it started...
Oops
it was not for the fainthearted
My mind is experiencing a fastidious flatulence; slightly fiendish, and not for the
finicky or fainthearted.
I fidget amidst it's fanatical far-fetched farce yet stand fearless, watching it's face
flounder in a foolhardy feeble-minded foible.
With fervor I say farewell forever to it's festering, feverish fetish, as it's frantic
fiasco foams, flails and finally fails.
http://lovestruehome.com/
On the wind's current,
face-swept and braving fret;
I push forward...facing a tough day,
never fainthearted: merrily drifting away!
I challenge my strength,
to fuse more enthusiasm;
to beat the puzzled clouds with ingenuity,
and they, frustrated, initiate a plot against me!
I laugh, making them infuriated,
and they respond with stronger blows;
thinking they can't be imitated!
Don't they know that I watch all their moves?
Call me a marine or a sky-diver,
I may not look too convincing for a liar;
the open sky lets me on the wind's current,
lifting me off the earth to deliver my stunt!
Where are my rivals? Are they hiding or
planning my imminent defeat?
I may be too naive to cheat,
but I am as swift as a hunting panther!
On the wind's current so rough,
aware and attentive, I make my living;
chasing the fearless eagles with a bluff,
vulnerable...yes, but unafraid and willing!
Copyright by Andrew Crisci
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