I behold the aurora from the open cerulean,
Descending down to the narthex of the east.
The first glimpse awakens the phoenix o'er the yon Caribbean,
And awakens my beloved's soul who still sleeps sun-kiss'd.
Filtered into the boudoir of my dear damsel,
The scarlet rays osculate her pinkish cheeks.
And her slumberous hairs with their swaying tails,
Waltz to the zephyr from the northern peaks.
The cupid's essence with a crimson glimpse,
Perches o'er her yawning eyes and blushing face,
And makes her warm in her auroral dreams,
With its divine fragrance of amorous grace.
How tacitly the piquant sun with its alluring arms,
Filches her sleep and kisses her lips too warm!
And plays too sly with bewitching charms,
To allure my girl into the morning's swarm.
Her skin bedaubed with the hazel tint of love,
And her voice now sweeter as Beethoven's strings.
Thus all my gratitude to the blest star above,
Must be offered on behalf of the mortal beings.
Thy chiaroscuro amid the swathes of bare skies,
Gleams as an epiphany o'er varied lands of men,
And bless each soul with thy ambrosial eyes,
Till the apogee of life into a little grain.
Categories:
filches, emotions, imagery, love, memory,
Form: Rhyme
Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash
By Elton Camp
“Who steals my purse steals trash. ‘Tis something, nothing; ‘twas mine, ‘tis his.
But he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed.” – William Shakespeare
Slander we may hear and repeat almost every day
To get close attention we need only speak that way
This can occur no matter how hard it is that we try
To avoid getting involved with some deliberate lie
About others it is all-too-easy to believe the worst
And once having heard, we must pass it on or burst
So often to appear not to spread slander is our goal
“Now you must promise me that this won’t be told.”
When we, ourselves, have made a promise like that
All too soon, from the bag sprang the scandalous cat
For with human nature we all are acquainted too well
We can’t keep quiet when we have juicy story to tell
And once a sensational story has been spread about
That most will believe and repeat there is no doubt
Categories:
filches, life, me, me,
Form: Rhyme