High fashion,
high culture ...
One finds the other ...
A raw seam,
another sewing ideas ...
Ideas wear costumes,
costumes parade cultures ...
Sewing without means
it doesn't thrive,
undressed culture
and naked, nonexistent ...
The man is the cloth,
culture is the background ...
So culture and sewing
merge in fashion
of this world ...!
she said he was a hoffknocka
a proletariat sort of peasant.
more so a woff doff casscul
a simon descendant of peasantry
he found comfort in poverty.
she refused to help him:
her brother whom
she loved as a child: but she
found it easy to walk on him
as an adult.
those whom you love
they all love me.
they despise you
they look to their world and hate
the fact fact that you are in it.
she makes him suffer
and has made his labor harder
she stands among those
who wishes him to be poor
that it's easier from her position
she sings dew-lay-mi in the night
might those who are in different to her
find comfort in helping him
endearing these positions
to generate nexting
from a new veiw
might he become n Ellitistic person from his
new found comfort
build
enbolden
and to empower
A terrible spell cast darkness across the land
So the dragon flew on wings of the night
This magical spell folks could not understand
Could the dragon make everything right?
The Knight of the kingdom sat high on his back
But there was no moon to act as their guide
Together they traveled to plan their attack
Knight of Haute-Savoire was ready for the ride
They swooped high and low over mountains and lakes
Fiery flames streamed from the dragon’s huge head
There was no time too lose, there could be no mistakes
They must act fast as the villager’s slept in their bed
Dragon’s night vision was good with his luminous eyes
He burnt down the wizard’s tower with his fiery breath
Their silent attack was a complete surprise
And it led to the magician’s swift death
In the new light of dawn the villager’s woke
To a world which was no longer in the dark
The magician’s tower was belching black smoke
They crowned the Knight of Haute-savoire their monarch!
The Dragon of Haute-Savoire Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
05~21~17
Smiles spread across populace faces,
An image in clouded darkness graces;
Their hearts filled with such treasure -
A hero of might beyond measure.
At the sight of a winged silhouette,
Risen to face the fascist threat;
Spread across the night sky,
Haute-Savoie Knight with dragon high.
Scales shimmering silver blues,
Reflected a hundred hues,
As the dragon blocked out the sky,
Arching its scaled neck to cry.
Flying passed the full moon,
It moved over far too soon,
On its back a strange figure sat
Clad in armor iron crested hat.
Immortal knight of the kingdom,
Sworn to fight eternal freedom,
For the people of Haute-Savoie
In times of most evil furor.
21/5/2017
Based on “The Dragon of Haute-Savoie” by Eve Roper.
Thank you Eve for being so generous and willing to collaborate with all of us! Haute-Savoie is on a border and was occupied during the war, thus implying a concern with protection and security, which has inspired my version.
The dragon of Haute-Savoie is flying
while shimmering into the night
with silvery scales reflecting the moon -
a most welcome marvelous sight.
Higher he’s soaring as if his stretched wings
are touching the stars of the sky.
The stars seem to nod, twinkling approval.
Oh, dragon, our saviour, fly high!
Fly with your knight whose armor shines brightly.
Oh, dragon and knight we adore,
fill us with awe to see you both soaring.
Do shine on for us evermore!
May 18, 2017 for the Collaboration Poetry Contest of Eve Roper
Exquisite marmalade rays with emerald and white lines
Whimsically folding immense dimensions into the eyes
Beneathe that silhouette sparkling skin the dragon wing
A Face to phase the dragons master the winner, th' night
For It is er' haute savoie, floral spring and autumn leaves
Er' home and sheltered caves for billion of years; er' lair
This kingdom this brass these solitude eyes"I challenge"
Invites my spirit to capture to launch an' away on its back
Hence meet the moon the sun the clouds; white fur coat
And bind to never leave such treasure nor ever cast aside
For a moment in time, a joy of wonder, eyes met to dare
08/05/2017
The dragon and his rider knight
Follow the clouds all through the kingdom
Smiles follow the dragon around
and the knight's soul glows with power
Above the kingdom Haute-Savoie
The meadows green and lush with grass,
the rivers churning white with froth
The moon sings her silent song as
the dragon flies past
A shadow wavers across the ground
Foxes look up and the high-flying birds look down
Blue and silver scales flash bright
The knight laughs in the silent sky
The protector and her dragon steed
Her sword polished and gleaming
and his scales glittering and shining
Patrolling the skies for their enemies
On the ground a boy looks up
As the dragon passes through the sky
His eyes grow light and as he waves
the dragon and knight soar by
Above the kingdom of Haute-Savoie
5/6/2017
At Pointe Percee
a dragon's lair sits
a guardian of Haute-Savoie
Lush meadows painted an emerald green
in spring, and in the autumn
cattle lie satiated in abundant pastures
A knight of the kingdom
entrusted with powerful effect of the very soul
shut in behind its high walls
Smiles spread across the populace faces
their hearts filled with such treasure
at the sight of a winged silhouette
spread across the sky
Scales shimmering silver blues
as the dragon blocked out the sky
flying passed the full moon
and on its back sat
the knight of the kingdom
of Haute-Savoie
4/23/2017
Not For Contest!!!!!!
Haute Prejudice.
Wrapped around manicured fingers,
Carats and ounces.
Flung over muscled shoulders,
Pin-stripes and silk.
Shoveled down open mouths,
Caviar and oysters.
Reeking from each pore,
Prejudice and hate.
The reeking odour is alive.
It is carried by the forlorn breeze,
Wafting through mansions and jacuzzis.
The reeking odour of the whispered epithet,
Lingers on as the perfume fades away.
I try to hide.
In dusty corners and trashy alleyways.
I try to escape the noxious smell,
As I flee into a crawl.
Yet the pervasive smell of hate in the air,
Swirls and invades and mutates and propagates.
The bile rises,
Nauseated,
Sick with mock pity,
For those fighting over the scraps,
In our gleaming city.
'freeloaders' and 'bums',
White, brown, black, pink, yellow,
And those battered into shades of black and blue.
Will it ever end?
Perhaps never.
Not until I realize,
That 'they' are me,
And that I am you.