Like an Axe Used To Split Kindling for Fire
Like an axe used to split kindling for fire,
Her beauty repeatedly strikes at my heart,
Encouraging sparks of desire that inspire
Me to bravely approach her without swagger.
I, in livery, and she, robed in fine cloth,
Comport in accord with that which is proper;
Express youthful, sentimental, foolish tropes,
Indulged in cautiously during our rapport.
Blustery adaptations amuse our spirits
At her pleasure, confident in my prescience.
We play charades insouciantly within limits,
Aware of time and place and our adolescence.
Music warms the heart’s revival of remembrance;
Our minds exploit these encounters with exuberance.
"Out to Sea"
In the immediate times
we rush to consume it all
before it is all swallowed, and out it all comes salty,
like an Ocean pummelling our crumbling sures
eating away our solidarity
insouciantly the sandy impermanent escarpment caves in
on our gossamer dissolving world
and in the eye of the storm
in the middle of it all
for a small moment all is calm
while the catastrophes move blithely around us,
hitting us brashly like we’ve been hit on a caffeine high
we are simultaneously aware of time standing still and then,
the swift pull of a rug unceremoniously out beneath our feet
some strange gravity slides
towards that ridiculous prophecised inevitability
of kingdoms come and gone
we thought we knew everything
the truth is we were the dumb awake
knowing little of everything
and much of what mattered little
and all as one
we are drowned soundly, gladly,
like into an open-eyed baptismal grave
we are forever and ever
naked as a child
washed clean
out to sea
Candide Diderot. ‘25
I am a solo sock mismatched again,
Insouciantly sorted out by men.
I’m worn and torn, my shelf life so unfair -
Old sole cast off without my perfect pair.
My oxygen runs low in dampened heat,
As all day long I’m wrapped ‘round whiffy feet.
A random rip and I am in a flash,
Without a second glance, tossed in the trash.
Sickly and old in times of dark despair,
Not worthy of restorative repair.
My significant other stands no chance -
Sad story of a sock with lost romance.
The only solace in my dim, damp fate
Is my intrinsically matching mate.
My poignant plea to you, all mighty men -
Please never ever sever socks again!
Having sated his desire,
and having mastered her own,
The Sorceress rose from The Sorcerer's loins
and stood tall with his power, now hers.
From above and beyond the battle,
she cast spells to win it for some
and to end it for none,
and weak and mighty fell alike.
Her voice insouciantly traversed the divide
and fell upon the grateful ears
of both heroes and villains
moments before they perished.
Moments after they perished
her voice magically returned to their ears
to raise them up once more,
for her spell could never end.
I knew of her wounds
and learned of my own,
and mirthlessly surrendered;
I, too, have been her thrall.
21st September 2018
So, what would you have me write?
Dulcet words of limply lurid metaphor
stuttering staccato of acceptable alliteration
preposterously impersonal personification
drab and dreary diluted imagery
innocently innocuous innuendo
insouciantly inane sonnets
neutered non-rapier wit
squishy, soft white bread limericks
fettered faint hearted free verse
sanctimoniously soft spoken rants
devoid of do’s and don’ts, can’s and can’ts
all to fit in a box
with invisible locks
displayed on a Common
of “creative” stocks
John G. Lawless
©6/30/2018
The moon was looking blank faced at the earth
Then teased her with shy intermittent stares
She confidently wore her sense of worth
And turned away insouciantly aware
As they spun he eyed her more intently
To search the outer beauty she possessed
In silence danced with shadows moving gently
While beams of curiosity assessed
He searched her waters, calculating depth
They sparkled his reflection as he probed
Affronted by the brashness of his quest
She gathered clouds around her like a robe
Disgusted by the moon she turned away
He left her there to welcome in the day
The rivers of champagne flows endlessly in time,
The tongue insouciantly disclose delicious whispers, that you are mine.
Music titillates the ears, candles tango wispy light,
Passionate sustenance consumed, on a pleasure-filled night.
Eyes are a dreamy abyss, endlessly falling in love,
As the immersing sunset embraces its last kiss from a lonely dove.
A breath away and spirits interweave into one heavenly bliss,
Unspoken lips anticipate the unity of our first kiss.
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