Long Schoolboys Poems
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We are all but dreams of God,
Composed of flesh and bone,
Illuminating darkness with our senses.
Dimensionless infinity
Gets cold when you’re alone,
So the Muse of our existence
Pulls the blanket to Her chin.
And She dreams of little puppies.
And She dreams of falling down.
And She dreams about Her Mommy baking cookies.
And She’s frightened by the bogeyman
That hides beneath Her bed,
But comforted by teddy bears and dollies.
We are all but dreams of God,
Together and apart,
Confined within this bubble of perception,
For time and space are finite things
Through which The Sleeper’s art
Confides the inspiration
For the shimmer and the spin.
And it shimmers on the playground.
And it spins around the sun.
And it’s chased about by scientists and schoolboys
And it lights upon a blade of grass
And bursts upon a touch
While children chalk equations on the pavement.
We are all but dreams of God,
A range of subtle hues
That paint our waking world
With clear distinctions.
Yet we ourselves sketch Godly dreams,
Becoming then the Muse,
Imagining a purpose more profound
Than one within.
We are all but dreams of God.
Good night.
Some years ago I traveled west with a friend that I considered best
Past the dancing mountains to the west of the trail of Contrabando
We bushwhacked in as slick as sin, a place that we had never been
A place that if you've ever been you found it on the down low
We set up camp and settled back with cast iron corn and kettle jack
But before the coals could start their cracklin' heard a wild contralto
It tore right through the velvet night and each his own red face turned white
We waited for the morning light our breathing low and shallow
"Tis banshees," cried my mate and laid so low the clouds did swallow fate
The moonlight a bone china plate our blood as thick as tallow
"Tis nothing but the wind" I said, "Roll over and embrace your bed."
Gloom settled bout his head and spread like dread around the gallows
The night crawled slowly into dawn but as we pulled our leather on
We laughed and joked like schoolboys whistlin' on right past the graveyard
I climbed up to the ridge to see what lay below the likes of me
I rambled and I scrambled a good while up on that mountain
At length I sat and took my rest on stones thrown there beneath the crest
All by myself I'd left my Best down at the camp asleep I guessed
…Turning as my thoughts undressed, I caught my breath and
swallowed…
For neath the crest laid there exposed bones white as ghosts and hard as stone
Quick as a chisel last night's moan cut head and heart and hollow
I've never been back to that place, I've never seen as white a face
In the mirror of my soul I trace a line not meant for crossin'
But sometimes when the night grows thin I close my eyes and draw within
And think about the place a friend… was left to his own morrow
Some years ago I traveled west with a friend that I considered best
Past the dancing mountains to the west of the trail of Contrabando
(The UK Queen's Platinum Jubilee was in June 2022)
You're at Trooping the Colour now, Dominic.
Were we not friends when we were schoolboys?
You look so smart now, Dominic, guardsman,
wrapped in the shining redness of that costume
under your tall, beautiful bearskin cap.
Recall that friendship, Dominic,
those distant days at school?
I saw your show on stage -
those school plays, musicals, but mainly ballet.
Such standards, almost worthy of a jubilee.
And here you are on our TV.
A performance, Dominic, seen by our Queen,
and millions, oh millions, of viewers.
You're at that Platinum Jubilee,
a concert full of marching men,
a march that is a parade,
a parade that is a ballet -
performing people, of course.
Would you wish to know me, Dominic,
now you're in your very posh world?
(June 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Obsequies for a Queen" of September 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2003)
“Cowboys” , big John Wayne starred.
Cowhands abandon him.
Call, joining the Goldrush.
Could greenhorn kids succeed.
Camp cook and chuck wagon,
Complete the trail crew drive.
Cow punching green schoolboys
Called on to claim their jobs.
Cimarron, the oldest,
Capricious, turned away.
Cow punching, green schoolboys
Combating bucking horse,
Caught on to rope, brand, herd
Cattle, and cow-horses.
Cattle drive is ready.
Cimarron follows close.
Cattle-rustlers kill Will,
Corralling all his herd.
Cow punching green schoolboys
Caught and killed the rustlers.
Complete the cattle-drive.
Cattle sold, gravestone bought.
Carved, “ Beloved Husband and Father”
8/22/2016
Not for contest:
Pleiades C
22 lines, 6 syllable each line
17th line 9 syllables
The Cowboys is a 1972 American western film starring John Wayne,
John Wayne nickname Duke
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cowboys
using;
http://www.howmanysyllables.com/poem_syllable_counter_workshop/index
The Long Last Summer’s Past
By David J Walker
The shrilled ring of the
School bell
Was the first call of
The last days of another
departed summer
The boys laced on new
Tennis shoes
The girls tried on
New dresses
The sleepy heads of those
Who could not sleep , who could not
Keep their eyes closed in
Anticipation of the first day of classes
The farm like crop-rows of kids
In school yards
Forming lines of covens of
Familiar faces
It was all a tradition of
The next Fall
And the comfort of
A needed belonging
And now,
So far away from that place
In a distant time
And space
There is a longing
To again line up by class
And nervously giggle
In the voices of children
Singing the anthem
Pledging allegiance
Proclaiming AMEN to
A prayer
That begins another
Day of learning
The yesterdays of
Schoolboys and schoolgirls
And daydreams of
Natural yearnings
Of the long last
Summers past
Standing in a garden on the edge of a ridge
Pissing out of the wine of the night
The sea below looks to be grumbling
But the party is still louder than that
The Heavens above may be burning
Yet she's back there holding my hat
If she saw me here in my manhood
There would be two dances more to be had
But she's too busy with a mild maiden
Judging my shadow, my words, and this song
I wish I had a memory to cling onto
Instead of my wit which is decidedly gone
There's a roundabout of gentlemen wild
Drinking all in sight that's left to be sunk
My lady stands glimmering below light-bulbs
Strung lower than my standards tonight
Though luck has made me a winner
Tonight I can't bare to get into this fight
It would be me, myself and an umpire
Judging my swings against my blows
Now I'd usually have myself done for
But her skin has arrested my fists
And opened they hold out my heaviness
Like schoolboys caught, or tramps to the blind
I could shoot myself here by the bandstand
And sit dying in a pool of my piss and blood
I ain't ready for love and its yelling
Its burning sensations and welcoming arms
No give me a chance at the brutal
Give me another go at the dolls
Don't hold out this angel and torture
Don't make me a martyr tonight
My reputable repertoire of near misses
Is staked though the fix in the game
She dealt me a night of clean aces
But I've been fishing and soon lose it all
She eyes me like land from open sea
But this old crow want to nest and forget
My black feathers they aught to be stretching
Flying east to dawn with a dove
That I could steal from her beak some olives
And make a crown of peace to depart
My last drink I drink has me spilling
All my needs the length of a woman
Let this fool be wrapped in her wiles
My glass shatters to diamonds and shards
Best cut your feet in this garden of Eden
And step hard to forget her somehow
I awoke from a nap to find it's now snowing
It was clear and sunny before my nap
Now there seems to be a cold snap
As I look out and see the wind blowing
I can see a glow in the woods with some clearing
I hear some faint sounds of laughter and bells
Now dressed to go out, my curiosity swells
What I encounter is sweet and endearing
There is Santa singing in his sleigh full of toys
Elves are dancing, laughing while having a toast
While giving Santa a fun holiday roast
Playing and ringing bells like a bunch of schoolboys
They saw me, but were not surprised, as if they knew
To my surprise they knew my name
And asked me to join the fun, if I am game
Then said, "we have a gift for you."
Santa gave me a large red bowed box
Inside was a snow globe replica of my home
And to shake it when it's snowing and I'm alone
To join them again for fun, games and snow walks
Listen my friends to the bells that tinkle and jankle
The early and spontaneous arrival of autumn,
It is a painful and unusual surprise for the birds,
Which wanted to dawdle among the weak reeds.
Tonight, the sun will disappear surreptitiously sooner.
The schoolboys are unhappy. They refuse to utter a word.
Their parents are elated to see how time is passing
Rapidly, like the short breath of a dying old handyman.
The green leaves begin to alter their postures.
The flowers are rare. They charm Mother Nature less.
No golden sun glare after the Angelus; the air is somber.
And the freshness from the north hypnotizes the refugees.
The old men, in disarray, wonder under the sorry shade.
This year, autumn exudes less warmth and cheerfulness.
Copyright © September 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
This is a translation of the poem: L' Aterrissage De L' Automne by Hebert Logerie
Sunday, September 22, 2019
Hard not to love Dylan Thomas’s tall tales
Each gloomy day may just tip those scales
Sends you off the rails when all else fails
Dilly dally schoolboys get cat of nine tails
Go doolally rally in the valley hard as nails
Don't cuss no faff or fuss for us Taff males
Knew along with a fair few Cymru crew's hue
Shared view that no where else has in spades
Cascades of so many gloriously grey shades
Dylan boozy villain mutters hip hop hooray
Gusts bluster beneath his sails on his travails
Trooping way this colour can't be kept at bay
Muster bulbous tinted voluptuous glinted bales
Proudly ride loudly in the night on his coattails
Very fond of merry vagabond's beyond the pales
Hail the true Withnail's escapades made in Wales
Don't harangue pang for meringue gang at play
Not a gimmick pray clouds don't go away hold sway
Rollick then frolic & fossick.. a limerick for any day
Outdoor foray adore bucolic score kaleidoscopic GREY
A Tear for Don
I still shed a tear over you, Don,
I wish you were still here, alive.
Remember the day we first met, Don,
A pair of young schoolboys aged five?
Remember how we were like brothers, Don?
The way we were always together.
We seemed to be joined at the hip, Don.
Our bond an unbreakable tether.
I think of our time as Cadets, Don,
Playing at soldiers in green.
And then you did it for real, Don,
At the fresh, youthful age of fifteen.
I didn’t much like all that serge, Don,
The khaki like wire, and sore.
So I chose to wear Navy Blue, Don,
And you laughed when that scratched even more!
You served in many campaigns, Don,
As I, in my Unit, did too.
We understood each other’s thoughts, Don.
Each knew what the other went through.
Then as our later years passed, Don,
Our friendship grew stronger and stronger.
I wish you’d been able to stay, Don,
Been my brother a little bit longer.
I still shed a tear over you, Don,
And although some may see it as strange,
My sadness and heartbreak are true, Don.
Can’t see how those feelings will change.
You’ve reached the Final RV, Don,
But I remain, soldiering on.
I’ll keep your memory safe in my heart,
Till we meet again, my brother Don.