Long Hobbled Poems

The excitement mounted as we rummaged around in the attic looking through old steamer trunks for discarded clothes and props to make Halloween costumes. With an old suit and hat of Granddads, I became a...

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Gloriously luxuriating in eternal sleep...

versus being alive 
predicated victory videre licet lunatic
if Trump trumped Kamala Harris
and stole 2024 presidential election,  
(whereat Musk bribed 
significant number of voters
handing out wads of cash)
courtesy underhanded modus operandi
and...

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Predator Antiqua Multis Versus Respiciens Tempus


I Watched Midnight Sun Fall Into Dark Shades Of Oblivion

Part I

I watched midnight sun fall into dark shades of oblivion
with its dying light screaming in agonizing moans
upon bloody battlefields of...

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Mine courtship and marriage with deadly obsession...

As September daze will soon arrive
recollections from a 
psychologically checkered  past
loom large recalling  
tragic storied days of mein kampf.

Circa early nineteen seventies:
As a mere slip of a...

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Pasha Acremodios grew greedy,
discontented with the domain he dominated,
so he turned covetous eyes toward Farabia,
sending his soldiers to seize this ripened plum

Spoiling for a fight and fighting for spoils,
his army swept across Farabia
like a bloody...

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Gloriously luxuriating in eternal sleep

Forlorn; bereft of golden
(slippered) opportunities I weep;
Three score and four years
replete with mailer daemons,
hence mindset adrip
with self denouncing expletive filled bleep
unwritten expressed recriminations
wielded upon figurative head of wimpy blip;
decades elapsed at...

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pitty-pit-pat, pitty-pit-pat ...

dark attic, echoing ... tenderly
rain on tin roof above,
her nana's voice, ages hence -
lives ago, really ... calling …

       "Little Tea Pot, Little Tea Pot -
 ...

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It is a witchy tradition to pass down your first broom to
The next generation, but poor dear sweet Mable inherited an eye 
Sore from her elder granny, the handle topped end was crooked
In a twisted...

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THREE WITCHES A LOVE SONNET


Three ancient, rotten, horrid, witches 
just awoke from their daytime snore,
These evil, reeking, damaged, sisters,
Cursed the land for thirty-five score.

As they hobbled down stairs 
they stammered and coughed,
Till they reached the...

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Mine courtship with deadly obsession(s)
still indelibly scored within 
windmills of my mind
this July 22nd, 2020.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence
(no matter ye never met me)
all that life in front of me
argh... precious time squandered
abustle with rattle...

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Struggle to write

Witnessed courtesy the following poetic sight
especially when dark shadows foretell edge of night
twilight zone expanding
into outer limits of width and height
obscuring webbed wide world
subsequently where black tentacles alight.

This poetic prologue feeble exercise to...

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END TIMES : ONE 

[Poet’s Note : This poem arose out of a play on quote in Bible by Christ : “I will open my mouth in parables. I will utter things hidden since the...

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Me, an aging baby boomer
long haired pencil necked geek
burning, depleting, using... fossil fuels,
thus a global nonrenewable resource(s)
repentant consumer
admitting heavily trod carbon footprint
additionally deeply enmired
within very late adolescence,

hence I shriek
with utter dismay
starkly aware personal hygiene
suffers direct...

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Overslept
     by Amy Swanson   11/2008

A little something to make you laugh ;)



Alarm clock didn't ring this morning;
Overslept - and now I'm late!
(but I would have stayed in bed,
had I...

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...Finally Gobayth came to
a devastated mountainside,
the trees and soil stripped away,
slaves cutting out blocks of great size.
They led him to a wooden hut
where several gold coins were exchanged,
the mine owner said, “Bring him out,
fit him...

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Decided...
 
Scene 1 (years earlier)

Years of indecision 
Ended in an instant 
My life in third revision 
Starting in the present 

Touching everything I've owned 
Importing their very essence 
Of each and every feeling they borne...

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Our Mate Charlie Brummell
Yes mate we went a droving back in nineteen fifty eight, 
The drovers cook was pretty rough, he couldn`t wash a plate. 
Hector he was fifty two, when he burnt our damper...

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A warning breeze bore tale of a familiar and fiery rage;
in the dread of night, a crone hobbled, accursed of her age  
by smoldering orange glow, she took to an ancient black tome 
raptly...

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She’d not heard the horses approach her village in the plains,
had known nothing or war of death until their arrows rained,
fiery streak against the night, set flame to thatch and straw,
scrambling from her father’s hut,...

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So we took Bonnie the Border Collie to the vet yesterday for a wellness check and to update his shots. While there we discussed Bonnies dominance issues over Crusher the female Doberman, especially when he...

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Young Ned was only sixteen years old when
they called for the militia to come again,
having warred with the French for three years now,
and raids had terrified the frontier towns.

But Britain needed men to hold the...

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Wrapped into a cocoon of impenetrable meaning and faith he followed the light

Doom and gloom had once shadowed his library of dreams and contentment

Scattered in his loony resemblance of a rational mind words rearranged reason

Analyses...

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“All their comings and their goings were so closely scrutinised 
as the prosecution’s trump card was the evidence they prized.  
Though the wily prosecutor gathered facts to build his case,  
some old bushmen...

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Part Two

Do you remember your run-up to the crease
      your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
           ...

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Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)- Translated by T. Wignesan
	For Regina von Degenfeld at Waibstadt
	-in respect and unending sufferance-

(Heine, a German Jewish lyrical and satiric poet, journalist and critic,
 settled in Paris from 1831 where...

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