Lour Poems

Severance Pay

Time hands seconds past the minute,
winter melts the sands,
sprung barter the seeds to take root,
petals leave for lands.

Abandoned juice bathes the barren,
weather soaks wet dreams,
towering outstretched limbs fashion,
cries tear up the streams.

Quartered the core green overgrowth,
sweet fester the sour,
fertile soil sources root approach,
West turn sunset lour.

Stockers fatten wanting store shelves,
greens packaged refreshed,
farmers loaded like Christmas elves,
checks at counters cashed.

Shoppers and grocers swapping smiles,
carts staggering highs,
past harvested fields, endless miles,
as New Year's Eve, nigh's.

Cut

I am a film director,
Spending time on the set.
I use a projector
To see if I can perfect
The project in hand.
But often, all doesn't go as I planned.

I search for perfection,
Which is difficult to obtain
After reflection
I alter it and start over again
And again.

The actors are on ego trips,
Dissatisfied with the parts they play.
They really should try to come to grips,
And listen to what others say.

Why should they take note of anyone?
When they know it all,
It's not until the director shouts CUT!
They begin to fall,

Cut, no more acting parts
No parts of any sort
I won't employ ham actors without heart
It was the director's last retort.

We all need direction,
So we can see lour way ahead.
And not to expect perfection,
But work toward it instead.

Poison Ivy Ruby Kiss

Poison ivy’s ruby kiss

Strip all the ink away
Do away with her kiss; ivy.
Ivy’s kiss still stings
clings to a heart that’s inked deep 
deeply rooted ivy- spicy leaves…
leaves her mark on a trifling bum.
A bum brim full of hot air teases
kisses out of icy ivy, earns a rash.
A rush of Ivy’s ruby kisses stings 
clings to his heart, inked deep
weep away her kiss, ivy, he tries!
denies he still cares: eyes stinging

Stringing her along- rather coyly 
another oily tongue that love bombs Ivy
envy not it’s frolics in ivy seas.
See, Ivy wears her poison like an armour
Dour ego: Ivy seized its crown.
down in the dumps it stays
bays all day long, tongue wrung out 
strung out, just deserts he gets
he regrets spitting at ivy seas.
See, Ivy wears her poison like an armour…
sour lour is a ruby kissed clown
Down in the dumps lives the clown.

Choirgirl

Friday night is for rehearsal
sac in air, before 
it breaks— breath out
into the soft dew
itching palms on our head.

Soon the baritones will arrive
stuffing music with tonic notes
for me to ride:
the terrors of solmization
& unbridled pitch sounds.

Boys says Sunday without your
mezzo-sopranos is like a 
metaphor of plus-nine terrors
—pounded noise
cooked in a lour supper.
But the pontiff won't heed.

Please sing alongside with me,
the Lord's song is becoming
pitching and modulating
rock and pop 
touring on one voice.


Excel Chinagorom Michael

Intimate Hawaii

The sky of strong blue as it dims at dusk,
that I shall in no way look at the same. 
A new start in rich, pure, salt scent may claim 
the heart of the sea, both wild and calm musk.

By dawn, close and dear lure the sun kissed shores 
and when I feel, the fair breast of an hour, 
of the wide world I stand lone, and may lour 
the tours that laze and taste the out of doors.

Gone far in the hushed land down the rock cliffs 
to cold surf, fish safe in tide pools true sight.
Feel the winds change in the pick of hush night; 
the soul's high and low show of the waves riffs.

Love the raw grace of the land and surfs, falls, 
arts, taste of the past and now, its calm calls.

9/26/2019

New Start

Days to come should ever endorse the beauty 
of day as Today!
The oath for an ode anew, destiny of  my duty.
Bon voya'e!
The path that's mine and mine alone, unvieled 
yet not Untraceable!
The destination is clear, there's haze no more;
Just that path's unseen!
Also I do not fear, much that skies lour
It's no wonder- serene!
The beauty I seek for  perhaps is off
the regular shores!
Beneath these stars, past those seas, doing
the Undone chores!

One For the Pot

Are British Politicians a Little Potty?




At the end of Faust Part Two

Goethe wrote something most true.

The eternal lies in things of time,

the stone you throw, the mount you climb.

the little bird that chirps and sings,

the honey bee that flies and stings

This logic, to its end pursued,

the British teapot must include.



A teaspoonful per person  tot,

but, don't forget: one for the pot!

Boiling water then  pour in,

Tepid water, 'twere a sin.



Now you let the teapot 'stand,'

or else the taste you'll get is bland.

but let no other danger lour

by waiting more than half an hour.

Soaked too long tea leaves release

what may disturb your stomach's peace.


Persistence, up to a point, does good

Beyond that point you're stuck in a wood.

Those Freezing Days

Something is coming 
We are freezing
Days when we want to do everything
But all we can do is that studying and nothing
After reading exam paper we feel muzzy
And before reading it we feel buzzy
Our minds din
Then we pin
Everything seems lour 
But we have to create pour
Wish it could be a strike lab
So we would have become scab
I am afraid they are coming
We are freezing
I pray to those exam days 
Please go easy on us

Black and Beautiful

Like dark chocolate,
She is my favorite.
A redefined taste of perfection and originality,
An embodiment of beauty,
Not in some quantity,
But with endowed with plenty and quality.
Dark creamed co lour,
Enchanter with a pleasant oozing odor,
Giving her epicures an experience
Of absolute brilliance.
O! She is like a unique sample,
Her lips are very tasty samples.
The sun gives her skin a sparky shine,
Like the gold of king Solomon mines.
A bit of her lips are like pure honey.
The feel of her skin is more desirable than money
She is black and beautiful
Her beauty is so edible.
As her looks implies.
She is a beauty simplified
In a complex sense that can not be decipher.
She is a beauty that is a miracle
She is black and beautiful...

Black and Beautiful

Like dark chocolate,
She is my favorite.
A redefined taste of perfection and originality,
An embodiment of beauty,
Not in some quantity,
But with endowed with plenty and quality.
Dark creamed co lour,
Enchanter with a pleasant oozing odor,
Giving her epicures an experience
Of absolute brilliance.
O! She is like a unique sample,
Her lips are very tasty samples.
The sun gives her skin a sparky shine,
Like the gold of king Solomon mines.
A bit of her lips are like pure honey.
The feel of her skin is more desirable than money
She is black and beautiful
Her beauty is so edible.
As her looks implies.
She is a beauty simplified
In a complex sense that can not be decipher.
She is a beauty that is a miracle
She is black and beautiful...

Song For Ballyheigue

Song for Ballyheigue

	County Kerry, Ireland

Twig fire limn
eight fairy
in a lour cave mouth

Four of whom
a tabor thrum

Four of whom
breathe zephyr
through wee fife

All of whom
leap star,
the joy of life.

All of whom
sing lark, 
the yet to come


Donal Mahoney

Say Yes

Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure
Some summer when time waits to lure
Our hearts to find just the right hours.
No brook shall steal away the flowers
Nor dirty spring waters pure.
Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure.
Fascination becomes the tour
For springs trumpets are not lour.
We quietly search the towers
Where first we discovered allures.
Someday the spring will be ours.










{Rondel form}

Touching

Day
and night-
their true love
encompasses
time


http://www.sothebys.com/app/live/lot/LotDetail.jsp?lot_id=159350070 
le lour et la nuit Lalique

God See's No Colour.

What gives you the right to hate me?  Just because my skin is not white.
Do you think our blood isn't the same co lour? Red

We may not look alike, we may not believe in the same things.  What makes us are beautiful 
things.  So don't hate on me because i look different from you.

God see's no colour, he loves us all the same.

Stop playing the race hate game.  Down with your campaign to hate.  'An all white Britain' is 
what you want.  How boring life would be if we all were the same.

God see's no colour, he loves us all the same.

So stop the hatred and live side by side.  Theres no place in the world for racism anymore.

Tod Und Frau 1910 (Death and the Woman)

As death creeps out of the darkness,
  A mother becomes the rope in a (Tug of war.)
A child reaches to help its’ mother in her weakness,
  And stares death in the eye with abhor.

The rope falls limp in sure defeat,
  Yet the child pulls on the strength of heart.
Against the evilness and deceit,
  Fighting with the will to not be apart.

The hooks of death on weary knees,
  Shackling the arms, exposing vulnerability.
Screaming and crying the words of “please”
  The mother rests with peace and tranquility.

A child left to battle life’s groans,
  Preparing for the encounter and all its’ lour.
For one day she will meet Mr. Bones,
  And she’ll be the rope in her child’s (Tug of war.) 






__________________________________________________________
Inspired by Brian’s Picture Poem’s Contest

Käthe Kollwitz, Death and the Woman (Tod und Frau), lithograph, 1910.

http://www.mmoca.org/mmocacollects/artwork_page.php?id=31

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