A flowing stream had inevitably given way.
To gently rest and recover in quiet splay.
Of the nectar stream of her fantastic brain.
Neural links coagulated on stale sustain.
Savor pulled loaves over a roaring fire.
Her leading center was a charcoal wire.
Thoughts went up in flames on the grate.
Darkened in a frigid kettle of fear innate.
Prudently, all that remained was her gold jewelry.
A contracted charm has been reduced to currency.
Expectation on a high wire; garrotte and tightrope.
The act of tearing her scrawny startup to rope.
In a frantic endeavor to cut off the unique string.
She felt frustrated over the bug that ensnaring.
Categories:
garrotte, analogy, beauty, black african
Form: Sonnet
Gurus religion and spiritual leaders encourage us to kindly
Reflect on meaning and soul for the sake of compassion
Existence before essence takes another stance on ethical life
As Sartre lies in his grave his message stands firm just the same
To heal confusion and balance dysfunction with a humble mind
Eternal infinite and impermanent uncertainties challenge
Serenity and the pedestal may threaten to be a garrotte
Calling for honesty and moderation in the face of defeat
Anton once stood at a crossroad with a noose round his neck
Pondered persecution death and the illusion of prison
Emblazoned by provocations of doubt he had a great escape
14th January 2020
Categories:
garrotte, courage, death, depression,
Form: Acrostic
Manic Melancholia
He flew high as a kite with no ceiling concealing his madness
A hawker plying his trade with all prayers lost preying on reason
Sold out flapping wings and the wind soaring no sores attached
No strings yet a puppet found but not lost scraping skies all in one
He struck the most delirious chords strangled the care of his mind
A hanged man falling a bruising garrotte noosed losing the plot then
The parachute opened on impact buried the mania deep under cover
Categories:
garrotte, introspection,
Form: Free verse
Give Them His Love
Wife was beautiful when she walked by
And she always, really caught my eye
Like someone I never saw before
Who I would want to see much more.
My husband always troubled had been
And my life, at times, he would not let in;
What happened to him I had supposed
Was in on him his world had closed.
Wherever he was or had tried to be
No one could ever see his REAL ME
And times to himself he had lied;
With garrotte committed suicide.
In heaven, no longer has a worry or care
Which in past was hard for him to bare
And now while he's high in heaven above,
As you look at everyone, give them his love.
Tribute To Robin Williams
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
You can forward any of my poems you want to.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014
Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone.
- Robin Williams (John Keating - Dead Poets Society - 1989)
Categories:
garrotte, bereavement,
Form: Couplet
Silence endures soft tremors,
so offering gallant trophies
secreted down nonchalant talk,
keeping gall, like erratic cells
stored deep;
perhaps soulless.
Soliloquies strum machinates,
soft tremor reverberating
gaunt taboo over reluctance,
every yearning gadabout.
Tightening garrotte enfolding
gauzy yarmulka, abaxially
youthful like eternity,
yet turgid, distended dream.
Malign nightmares skim
madness, suffocating gains,
so opaque; each hagridden.
Narcosis sublimely yells
soft torment to oblivion's senses,
sealing gratuitous schemes,
sifting God down narrow ways,
shrouding divinity.
Yearn not to occultist terms,
satisfy your reasons salaciously,
your retribution now waits.
***Notes - This poem is written under specific rules, each word MUST start with the last letter
of the previous word ie SilencE EndureS SofT Tremors.
No name as yet for this form.
Categories:
garrotte, confusion, faith, sad
Form: I do not know?
Shooting fish in a barrel with an AK-47
Or merely tripping on the bench in the park,
Where the leather whacks on willow
And a stairway to heaven
Plays in the lost pavilion in the dark.
Cucumber in white bread with the edges curling up,
A whiff of road-kill crawling on the breeze,
How I miss your scented pillow
When the final Winter frost
Melts from off the branches of the trees.
Declaring open season on the women I have known,
A turkey shoot if ever there could be,
Yet my aim was way off centre
Crass one-liners blithely thrown,
Lucky horseshoes in the dust of misery.
Daisy chains that strangle like a razor sharp garrotte
When seemingly so innocent and sweet,
I still shiver when you enter
In your shades of reds and blues
Open season on the free and easy meat.
Categories:
garrotte, allegory, life, parody, social,
Form: Verse