Marlowe Poems

Gaelic Farewell

I say in love farewell.
I shared in love to you,
My thoughts and all my feelings,
Words my dreams outgrew.

I saw your beauty with eyes
That pity a blind man’s fate
For missing your heart’s radiance
That I will never shake.

I speak of twenty Helens,
Props to Marlowe and Poe,
But nothing else can match
The beauty with you I knew.

Clerihew Marlowe

Canterbury's Christopher Marlowe
as a plawright made a show
He brawled&blasphemed
because atheism became a theme

A New Brief Discourse On An Old Topic

There is no sin but ignorance. (Christopher Marlowe)

Sin is the failure of an imperfectly made being to keep a perfect law. (Matthew Pearl-"The Dante Club")

ASSUMPTION:
Sin does not exist
Until or unless
It is publicized.

PRESUMPTION:
Public scandal
Is what makes
A sinful act offensive.

QUESTION:
Is sin in silence
Still a sin?

DISCOURSE:
There was a time
When virtue was its own reward,
But, over the course
Of human interaction,
That concept seems to have
Acquired a variety
Of different interpretations,
As well as to have suffered
A noticeable decrease in value
As well as in popularity.
To sin is still,
And always will be,
A human prerogative,
But to keep it a secret,
Nowadays,
Is practically impossible.

CONCLUSION:
At all levels of society,
Too many have learned,
Too well,
The art of removing scruples,
The science of loosening the bonds
Of human conscience,
And have convinced themselves
That sin in silence
Is not a sin at all.

Nom De Plume

I feel the futility 
after decades
of my fingers flitting
like dragonflies
over the keys 
my once hopeful heart 
shriveled and shrunken 
as a plum into a prune 
Shakespeare and Miller
Marlowe and Pinter
will never again 
pick up the plume
to pen another  
poem or play
yet they live on today
while my words 
wither in the womb
Stillborn they are silently
whisked away unread
without a funeral 
to the tomb

Philip Marlowe

He was alone and lonely.
Sadness swept his eyes 
before he jabbed at me 
with his cynical sarcasm.

He slowly lit his Camel.	
It was a simple act of murder
and he was a scholar of sorts –
a player of chess, a fan of poetry.

I knew I was under his scrutiny.
I agree it looked rather suspicious.
After all, the body was there
and I was found holding the knife.

I squirmed under his hard eye
but leaned back into the chair
in front of his desk knowing
he had a soft spot for women.

A hard drinker, he took a bottle
from his cabinet and offered
a glass to me. I didn’t accept
as I knew I should stay alert.

“It was a man, a squabby man,
with a glimmer of glee in his eye,”
I said. “He looked at me, then
threw down the knife and ran.”

Marlowe said, “I don’t think you did it.
There was no blood on your clothes.
Your shoes would have soaked
in the blood and crusted.”

I relaxed a little and offered a smile.
I knew I was home free.
I was glad I had changed my shoes.
“I’ll take that drink now.”

	She took the bait…


Inspired by but not entered in Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest

The Man In the Raincoat

Singer Marion Marlowe was from St. Louis, Missouri.
She had a hit record with haunting lyrics and melody.
"The Man in the Raincoat" was a 1955 success.
This song made Marion a popular songstress.
Along with the Mariners, and Hawaiian female vocalist Haleloke,
Marlowe was fired from the television show starring Arthur Godfrey.
Despite this setback, she had quite a cromulent career.
She proved that success comes to those who persevere.

I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable information I obtained to write this poem

Tribute To Tommy Bolin

Something haunting about his voice. 
Sorrowful, lingering around the edges.
I do not fully see him, 
he is a grayscale blur, something elusive

The lyrics are lonely and sad.
His mother prayed him into existence,
he sings this as if he thinks it was an unhappy circumstance
Love for his father comes through

He claims loneliness, yet is it not self-imposed?
He wrote one hundred songs in his twenty-five years.
Was encouraged and coached by the Beach Boys
A little Iowa child, like me, born six months before I was 

The last photo of Tommy taken back stage
made it into Rolling Stone Magazine.
He was big time, but may not have known it.

John Marlowe, of the Miami News said,
“Take care of yourself.”
He said, “Don’t worry. I will be here a long time”.
He died a few hours later
Heroine, cocaine, alcohol and barbiturates.
Something haunting about his voice.

Sassy Syllables Sued

dark dribbles drool
feigning freaks fooled
nocturnal nimble numbed
felon fits gulped
hideous hankers hoisted
callous crest cremated

porous politics punctured
moaning trends tortured
leering lanky leisure

pulpy pen pruned
sassy syllables sued
squashed bills bruised

la-de-da wits wrecked
haggard hymns decked.
    '20:03:24:20:16

Note: Dedicated to Christopher Marlowe.

England's Song

I hear England's strong voice praising its past:
Football's World Cup glory in 1966,
Shakespeare and Marlowe penning plays,
Sir Francis Drake circumnavigating the world,
Queen Elizabeth I, with the stomach and heart of a king,
Queen Victoria, with her ever expanding empire and waistline,
Constable, Turner and Reynolds painting pictures...
and yes, although it can only whisper of its today,
it shall sing once more of new glories, 
it shall shout from its rooftops for St George, 
and be proud of its past and present.

A little Patriotic free verse for Carolyn's contest, inspired by Whitman's 'I hear America singing'

Righteous Lesson

M-essage
A-bout
R-ighteous
L-esson
O-pens
W-ith
E-vangelical

M-ission
A-s
N-umerous
A-ttendees
L-isten
O-utstandingly

Topic: Birthday of Marlowe Manalo (April 17) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic

Your Spying Eyes

I caught you creeping around
with your spying eyes
Quick, furtive glances
betray your silent, stealthy movements
Human satellite camouflaging black cloud,
always in passing tear bursts,
secretly scans through a purse in my closet
Your dubious, devious actions
speak loud
Such churning, internal accusations
would make any insecure man proud
Furthermore, you compounded your fidelity lies,
when you installed web cam spying eyes
Privacy invasion of the worst kind — 
But, I caught you though,
looking through my bedroom window
with a telescope
I had a Philip Marlowe 
reconnaissance pro trailing you ...
sweet turn of the table
Let my diamond stylus disgust skip to the end,
this relationship is over ...
It’s time for me to unfriend
Here is some advice I guilt-freely give you: 
Your spying eyes
will never truly let you see inside
the heart of another person
Unconditional trust 
is the only way to ever off-site remotely know
what lay beneath the quilted hidden covers 
of someone else’s soul

A Copy Cat

A Copy Cay

I no longer appeared to be a little tyke
Have started writing poems that I like
Would like to lavish in again and again
Should my bragging be considered a sin?

My poems have many great things to say
No matter how they are read or which way
They always can clearly be understood
And through all time will have withstood.

Around in my mind with new idea played
What if Pulitzer Prize material I had made
Them and one day became exactly that
Visited Queen in her palace where she sat.

I became distinguished and was delighted
Because by the Queen I had been knighted
Then sailed away in ship with much cargo
After copying poems of Christopher Marlowe.

All of the poems were appreciated and enjoyed
Even though other poets became annoyed
And all of them finally had been knocked flat
When they discovered that I was a copy cat.

James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran

My Profound Thousandth Poem

My Profound Thousandth Poem

Dedicated to England and also 
world renown poet Terry Cooper.

England is exciting place to be
Will enjoy it in every opportunity
People of pageantry are such a site
Forty in Round Table and were a knight.

There was Marlowe and Shakespeare
And Gainsborough to see far and near
Cathedrals, mighty castles with a moot
To see does require much time to devote.

In England is Rugby, Lacrosse and Soccer 
Manchester being beaten is a real shocker
Weather will be cool and then end up warm
May need to be prepared for a mighty storm.

When you leave will want to return again
Which is exactly what we both intend
Was it mole in hole or pied piper in wall
Whatever it was old me just can't recall.

James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
and one of top 40 Poetry Soup Producers.

The End Stool

The End Stool

Always askew
As if occupants left quickly
Such is the life of the bar’s end stool

We’ve all noticed its isolation
Its paradoxical value as an observation point
The lighthouse warnings
Stay away from the rocks

Yes

End stools are special
Reserved for the aloof
Yet
Wanting the “more” of life
Like we who occupy the center
Will never know

End stool has a story
Ancient as Christopher Marlowe
Recent as Oliver Reed, Richard Burton, and Peter O’Toole
Contemporary as Bukowski

Think aloneness is desired?
Think not
Oneness without connection to another something is…
Such is the sadness of lives ended
Atop the End Stool

Tough Guy

I wish I was a tough guy
The kind you meet in books 
Made of rock hard muscle
With rugged hard man looks
A Raymond Chandler hero 
Exuding macho charm
A super spy or villain
With a beauty on each arm

I’d love to be the kind of guy
That others see and fear
The bane of every coppers life
I'd look at them and sneer
I might fall for a sucker punch
Get beaten up or more, but
I’d meet them face to face
And then, I’d even up the score

Wish I could be like Marlowe
And ooze testosterone
Women falling at my feet
For my heart as cold as stone
I would stand up to the bad guys
When I’d won, I’d get the dame
They would say “who was that tough guy”
I’d say “Rupert, that’s my name”

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