.
yellow flower blooms
'guiled poet takes one flower
from all uv the blooms
There's a secret hidden behind the mask I wear
and if you dare to peer into the depth of my eyes
you will discover my soul has been laid bare
My flaws empower me, despite the guiled disguise
I appear to be a peach dangling from a tree
ripe for picking according to my blushed skin
but I am rotten to the core, and you cannot see
my blemished soul; the lies and faults within
I am the most tempting bouquet of the finest wine
Sniff and swirl before tasting me with your lips
If you over indulge from the harvest of my vine
I could destroy your life by causing an apocalypse
I'll enter your heart offering the petals of a rose
I can be beauty to behold, but beware of my thorns
They can draw blood. It's a danger I often pose
My mask conceals my identity by covering my horns
Strand's New Poetry 14 Contest
Sponsor...Brian Strand
July 28, 2020
Liars of the twisted tongue,
thine mouths are like guiled fire
from the flesh of darkness, you were born
from the darkness, you sleep and reign
you tempt man in may ways and trials
vermin spewing flesh eating bile of the mind
take back you idealistic ramblings of temptations
effective immediately DELETED!
Nov 5,2018
Guiled movement. A warrior's ballet.
Wiled traps confusing choice play.
Battle simulator, test of war.
Chattel, pieces. Sixteen, no more.
Tool used for general and king.
Fool recused, no victory to bring.
Equate life, game played terminally.
Satiate strife, rife with strategy.
Take care when proficiency is met.
Wake caution. Avoid cunning net.
Truly dangerous. Prediction a guess.
Duly acts, a man who plays chess.
-Angel Fatale-
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 46
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Their great careers made Their statues unveiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
Apparatchiks clubby diplomatic kind
Allegiance to rival parties well-coiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Spying on one another to undermine
Using public forces to keep peoples embroiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
Stock-piling nuclear arsenals to churn brine
While oceans lash out the people will be boiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Mighty men who pat each other to outshine
One another in local Catch-rings all coiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
To what then duped masses owe their fated grind
If not to nymphomaniac egos well-guiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
To what future Super Men our backs supine
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015