An apple a day so they say
Barn owl hoots throughout the night
copper boiler full of Monday’s wash
dare one think of paradise?
Elite dancers shun the maypole
Flowers of purple garlands glisten
General’s choir sings ‘Zippity Do Da’
Horrendous world rushes on by.
Iris competes with the roses
Jerry withdraws to the gym
Kilos lost in dramatic confusion
Lemons wasted on the slim.
Many lovers unite with the sunset
Naïve minds survive till dawn
Open mindlessness a sin to bear
People dive into mental torment.
Queues become longer day by day
Routine jobless wait for the left wing
Sublime reasons given to simple men
Tawdry acts of treason work out true.
Under the moonlight old movies
Vice ruled in parliament square
Wellington city gave up its nights
Xavier Hollander was there.
Yes, to absolute freedom
Zero moral fibre now is so low.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Categories:
hollander, angst, change,
Form: Abecedarian
I guess we can struggle when we sit down to write
But use your own words - to plagiarise isn’t right
When I read a poem that’s simply too good to be true
I then begin to question, was it even written by ‘you’
If I google a few lines it will give me the answer
You’ve been caught red handed – you were a chancer
I just want to read poems that I’ve never read before
If I find stolen work I won’t read ‘yours’ any more
Why claim words from another writer, as it is a crime
You’ll never find stolen words in any poem of mine
Part 1 posted on soup 7th February 2015
Part 2 ...
To obtain contest glory and gong
You stole another's words, it's so wrong
Plagiarism is vile
You've done it quite a while
I’m hoping this is your swan song
Hollander died aged eighty three
So tell me how could it be
His work’s here on soup
‘you’ wrote it – that’s poop
Soup booted this fraud speedily!
Sadly the culprit has once again been posting stolen work soup even entering it for contests, thanks to eagle eyed souper's he has been removed once more.
30th December 2019
Categories:
hollander, corruption, poetry,
Form: Limerick
In blue tinged glow of lustrous night,
Hollander watches bird in flight.
In breathless, quiet, shadowy gloom,
Trees are restless, night's abloom!
Hollander, where has gone the sun
In which you had so much fun?
And when evening's come, and shadows fall,
You stand and listen to a bird's call.
Beneath the trees, in solitude,
While on the night, the moon will brood.
How does Hollander view skyward lark,
As he stands listening in the dark?
Skyward, skyward, with piercing cry,
Floating gently, way on high.
Moon, with your dimming light,
Who would ever miss the sight?
Trees that bloom on fertile land,
You look so lovely, breathless and...
Night is a beautiful, sweet detainer,
As you look to the skies...Hollander.
Categories:
hollander, beauty, bird, dark, moon,
Form: Rhyme
Sounds in the mental ear
from a silent reading eye
broken monoku after John Hollander
Categories:
hollander, poetry, writing,
Form: Epigram
PHRASIS-emanations
Bewitched,type of shapes,images
of voices,a melodious resonance.
Reflections ,silent nights in the dark.
an anthology of light of wind and rain.
Metaphors and irony,curiosity said aloud
with rhythm in repetition.
Phrasis inspired ny the titles of works by John Hollander.
You my hear me recite this phrasis on you tube under my pen name ichthyschiro
catch my short poetic forms @strandpoet on twitter
Categories:
hollander, imagery, poetry,
Form: Verse
Alone,
and riding its momentum
out across the chasm
of an unreflecting void,
is Voyager,
its waning, hopeful beep
an act of faith; there lies within,
a particle of us--
ready to embrace the one
who looks inside.
It is a shell of nothingness
without a dream to nourish its long night,
a worthless orb of metal
in a cold black sky,
hope thrown into a phantom alien hand
unseen, unguided, yet unknown to God,
a Flying Hollander condemned
to yet another seven year eternity.
Still not a journey,
no, not yet--a vanity,
until it meets its purposed end.
So, too, is love impossible,
a non-reality, a formula alone
until it is returned.
Like Voyager, its effort laudable,
like stick to fire, indifferent
until it's burned.
And he, without a lover
will not understand:
We do not fall in love--
we love, are loved;
create and are created--
know, and then are fully known.
~
Categories:
hollander, science,
Form: Free verse