Earth bloodies the moon
its face drowned in severed veins—
harangued in the sky
for all to see Sun's disdain
in being eclipsed usurped
The heavens lament,
scattering rust into dusk,
for the blood red burns
when what's seen is black and white—
space smeared with wrath set ablaze.
A blood moon warns us
every orbit has peril,
in being dethroned
by an unyielding eclipse,
tainting our shadow of self
The scuffling duo sparred in the park
Their screams and shouts so very marked
A bag was clutched in the woman's hand
A man had grabbed it while he harangued
"Let go!" He shrilled and tugged it more
"Tis mine, not yours!" The woman swore
The strap tore his hand, he released his grip
The woman fell back in one mighty trip
Another spoke out with voice strong and stern
"It belongs to her, so it must be returned."
The other placated the poor fallen lass
He showed her the bag with gold coloured hasp
The woman leapt up, grabbed the bag and was gone
"It belonged to my wife." Said the man all forlorn
"Oh I'm sorry." Said the other, watching her go
Laughing and jeering, bag firmly in tow
She headed toward a blue, murky pond
The path, alongside, was slippy beyond
Now her footing was lost to the slime and the mud
As she sallied forth into furthermore sludge
The man strode swiftly to view her demise
With a duck on her head holding its prize
The little red bag was firm in its beak
So the man took it back and the duck said quack quack.
Vines it were stole Adam’s joys;
thorns and thistles figured large.
Now, machines and even toys
fail to start, won’t hold a charge.
Oft harangued by so much ache,
pleasure’s fleeting, progress stalls.
Scarce we fix, another breaks;
endless toil stems from the fall.
Come thou, Father, make all right;
help us in this life we plea.
Burdens easy, yokes are light
when we find our rest in Thee.
I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet
it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows?
Another life, another alphabet?
Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose
in Agrigentum I, with each vignette,
imbibing wine, as bitter as regret,
harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows.
That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get
frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’,
all too transparently in Homer’s debt?
But Italy’s a credible coquette,
more winning in her ways than we suppose.
Like Rhapsody in Blue’s smooth clarinet,
she captures us. We victims, in love’s throes,
admire her steely claws, as black as jet.
Written October 11, 2022
One tall and gaunt with hooded eyes
The other bearded, bent, time-worn and wise
They relished unfurling their intellectual sails
To seek secrets of wisdom on ancient gales
Two wizened old philosophers in a huddled conspiracy
They picked through the bones of archaic mythology
Pondered the tomes of scholars of yore
Then fleshed out the virtues of masters of lore
They sniffed out the dragons of hateful hypocrisy
Harangued and railed against heinous heresy
Decried the dogmatist's intolerant curse
Then like poets esteemed they trundled through verse
Their furrowed cheeks glowed as the whiskey flowed
Voices gravelled and slurred as their logic blurred
They fumbled and mumbled, weary and weaving
As the dying embers of day, dropped into evening
With their feverish fervour fully feted
They stumbled into the night, agreeably sated!
For fiercest queens, the finest pedigree,
Begetter and bestower of all lauds;
For foulest plagues, the fairest remedy,
Despoiler and destroyer of all frauds.
Revered for rectitude, renowned for laurels,
You helped reform the world to honest fame;
Reviled as sinister, renounced on morals,
The world deformed you to mendacious shame.
Now candid trade’s betrayed by blackened graft,
And harmless wit’s harangued by hurtful wile,
And simple skill’s arraigned by compound craft,
And vulgar pride's maintained by vulpine guile.
The grossest lies all get averred for gain
Since humblest truth became impugned and slain.
DISILLUSIONED BY ROMANTIC POETS..
SO MANY EMPTY WORDS..
AND EPITAPHS OF LOVE..
HARANGUED BY CONSTANT DOUBT'S..
TO MANY QUESTIONS ASKED..
OF TRUST AND EXPECTATIONS..
CONFUSED BY SIMPLE LOGIC..
DON'T READ BETWEEN THE LINES..
FIND A REASON TO BELIEVE..
CONCERNED BY LESSER WORRIES..
MY HAIR IS GOING SLIGHTLY GREY..
AND MY WRINKLES SEEM TO SMILE..
DISAPPOINTED BY MY FRAILTIES..
A MAN WHO CAN'T BE TRUSTED..
I HAVE A ROVING EYE..
DISENCHANTED BY THE WASTED TIME...
FAILED HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS..
ARE SITTING NEXT TO ME..
CHAPERONED BY LONELY HEARTACHES..
SINGING SADLY IN THE STREET..
EMOTIONALLY I'M OUT OF TUNE...
There once was a chick from up north
who harassed, harangued, and so forth
Reports had been filed
evidence compiled
She is 'net restricted henceforth
As he stood paper cup in hand by the drinking fountain on a train
somewhere south of Kankakee, miles from Chicago,
a quiet, pensive, older man was getting harangued by a loudmouthed,
blowsy, beer drinking, inconsiderate, disheveled and overweight woman.
Aka, his wife.
She finally shut her mouth after he exploded with,
“get your face out of mine, yo breath smells like
you been eatin camel dookey for a week!”
The laughter from the old men in the club car was deafening,
so she just sat down and cried all the way to New Orleans.
This narrative for the comma contest is a childhood memory I observed riding the Illinois Central’s “City of New Orleans.” Circa 1955.
with a beard and a weary face
i head out into the town
tired eyes and tired hearts
result in nothing but wretched frowns
cider splashes down my jeans
i slip and fall on the floor
i bump i bang i get harangued
and then im shown the door
waiting for a taxi head in my hands
urination down the filthy alleyways
vomit bursts from my cracked lips
its all the same day after day
Contemptuous clouds were looming largely.
Their overhead disdain exuded warm
phlegmatic spittle on me angrily.
Conspiring gales abet the raging storm.
The thunderous claps reverberated
abusive oaths, some four-lettered words --Bang!
and boom! -- resumed throughout the tempested
display. Below, I protested, harangued:
" I stand amidst your heavenly vengeance
composed and wet. Your threats of torrent might
impresses only the meek. If by chance
you see me tremble --not because of fright.
I shiver only from the cold my friend.
Rain! Blow! And Clap! I'll brave it till the end."
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