monkeys leader fell — along
with twenty seven monkeys —
into a treacherous mire;
nothing appeared on surface
but a single wet feather!
When I was cast in mire,Thy hand was near,
Thou sent a ,man, O Lord,to succour me;
Bless him with grace,and guard his path sincere.
I had no roof,no kin,no friendly cheer,
But lay 'mid thorns and cold hostility;
When I was cast in mire,Thy hand was near.
My name was curse,my past a thing of fear,
My bread was shame,my cup iniquity;
Bless him with grace,and guard his path sincere.
That stranger spake-''Thy mother loveth,hear!''
He gave me gold to find mine ancestry;
When I was cast in mire,Thy hand was near.
Now in the Cape I left my heart,a seer,
And pray for him with pure simplicity
Bless him with grace,and guard his path sincere
Let Heaven's light attend his every year,
And lead him,Lord,to thine eternity;
When I was cast in mire,thy hand was near-
Bless him with grace,and guard his path sincere.
It is just another day
To be used as we like
To choose joy as our companion
Or embolden friction and strife
It is just another hour
To spend as we desire
To embrace love as a mentor
Or wallow in customized mire
It is just another minute
To be valued as a prize
To caress truth as life’s foreplay
Or nestle with deception and lies
It is just another year
To capture the selfie of all time
To magnify the light we’ve been given
Or post our demise by design
Written: April 21, 2024 For Andrea Dietrich Andaree Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Worry and stress weigh heavy on my spirit.
Lately, scowling is my lone licit!
Donning threads I don't desire.
I heave and acquire.
Deep. Dismay!
mire
Life gameplay
Will you tire this dire
Expand; love; improve higher -
Your psyche and flesh are your wickets.
Life isn't obvious, some concern, much merit.
Myre's Mire - Horror Poetry
they wanted my eyes
they wanted to see what I had seen
they longed to see what I had seen
to know how I laid bare my step
on sugar path
on foaming hill
in raging twist
against the wind
to throw my stones across the land
to walk, as I, deluded
there was a house of wood and stone
a sign outside
its name, my dream
and know not I why this I saw
scratched in by nails
fingers raw
read 'Myre's Mire'
bloodied
within that house lived all the world
lived everyone who'd ever lived
breathed everyone who'd ever breathed
and wait, they sat in harmony
while I, outside
dare not go in
was I outside mistakenly?
they wanted my eyes
they wanted to see what I had seen
and all the creatures they'd become
could walk, as I, elated
Their sizes alone show an overshoe,
With heavy rains a hunger for them grew.
If I put them on earlier, pours due
But not normal men do; I tell you ‘Few.’
Boots never a wonder, even The New;
In me the sight of them sweet dreams slew,
Yet, if I lost them they more than sighs drew:
On one occasion into a rage flew!
One’s feet in them fears of a mire died,
One ready for a walk as for a ride,
On sticky terrains normal movements tried.
Why would one pause to take Rain Boots as guide?
If you reasoned I was at risk you lied;
From that day no more in you confide,
For resident facing flooding his bride;
In a sense his automobile, his pride.
To touch a leaf upon a tree and watch it shiver with delight
and when the sun comes out to play to watch it swing and sway
To gaze at shades of verdant greens intoxicated by their light
anticipating hugs of warm from arms that want to go away
this druid girl has had enough of cloud filled skies and endless nights
To bow to nature like a Queen and serve it like a Regal King
and as each thought of poor old me releases gifts of sympathy
I will bestow on Mother Earth my mended piece of broken wing
Perceptive with psychometry and mendicant telepathy
this alchemist of touch and smell will tip the balance of I Ching
To seize that moment of arrest when all the stars of heaven's pyre
are plum content to glow and shine above a sky of April wine
To fall in love beyond the hour with tenderness and deep desire
to take what has been given sure and leave behind what isn't mine
this medium girl will walk the marsh and swim across the Mystic Mire
Oct 10 2022
Sponsor L MILTON HANKINS
Contest Name THREE STANZA POEM IN QUINTAIN (SICILIAN)
Complaining, complaining
That is all you do!
Refraining, refraining
From the flow of negativity!
You have caused a river of pessimism
To enhance the essence of your life
The alignment of your words to the circumstances of life
Will shelter an unbearable image
That will put you in a cage!
The mire of murmuring
Has created a wire around your life!
Negative circumstances stab you like a knife
And all you have is the concept of complaining!
Break free and sing a new song
This is the hour to be strong
You have the power to rise
So put away the banner of negativity
And change the manner in which you see things!
You are beyond the negativity
So ignore self-pity and
Let your life be filled with a level of positivity!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Spring buds
Bursting
Like popcorn stuck on sticks
Raising my perspective to
Gallivant
In knee-high tickle grass
Nested
In the strew of stony rocks
Festooned
With sphagnum and lichen
Frothed with droplets
Of glistening crystal lather
Moored in glade and rill
Plundered in claggy stodge
Boggy green and juicy with rain
The jaunt sloshes with plunger feet
Air raids above
Signal
Whirring wispy winged ghosts
Bombers
Buzzzzzzzzzing
Skitting overhead
Barely black shadow fellows
Intent in reaching their target
Synced and signaled
Like flittering naked poltergeists
Aiming for a sticky sweet meal
Arms, legs ankles and necks
Covered or not
Stabbed with little mercy
In the trove of
Spring Buds
So Alive!
May 16, 2020
There was no place to wade
in the stagnant pools of Corona.
The virus sank our feet into the mire.
Help was on the way, as we submerged
into the cesspool.
somewhere
a head lays
on a bed
upon nudge hill
and laughs
at the rain
© Harry J Horsman 2019
Cleared Away Mire
Cleared away mire and started to aspire;
Goals started growing higher and higher;
Though am inept,
Mission did accept;
While we wish Trump would soon expire.
Jim Horn
My tortured weary body aches,
While my minds bright embers aglow,
The songbirds of sorrow awaits,
Reaping dark empty seeds I sow.
Lost traversing aimlessly through,
The lush spring prairies full of life,
I seem to unknowingly choose,
Desolate vast tundras of ice.
A colorless empty wasteland,
Slows down my once wondrous journey,
Turning my hueless eyes face down,
Numbing the thoughts that concern me.
Devaluating precious time,
And prioritizing my pain,
Has left self-loathing in my prime,
With a pessimistic disdain.
I have known that for survival,
Trapped within this frigid glacial world,
Atonement flourished revival,
Sent within a single warm word.
Precipitous licking fire,
It's flares echo from up above,
Precipitates the muck and mire,
To precipitation of love.
Mire Without a Quag
There once was a mire without one quag
Who had happened to look like an old hag
And bag who surely was way beyond belief
On her shoulder held a gripe and also a grief.
As you can now see I forgot to add the chip
Not sure how far out she was liable to flip
There are so many complaints I lost count
Were out of order and an inordinate amount.
Mire was married whose first name was Sadie
With last name Hawkins having been first lady
Yet at diligent dance she still started to yearn
For people who had never taken their turn.
This had a chance of being a big romance
So they did start calling it Sadie Hawkins dance
And can you imagine a woman having to choose
Men to dance with when there is absolutely no use.
Instead of dancing stepped on their both feet
Even though she tried to be nice and sweet
If you forgot and are a frequent foot lobber
Your hurting feet she will constantly clobber.
Now come on. At least a chuckle.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
An Entire Mire
Found poem in my mind in an entire mire
It never had any desire to try and expire
And in my three fingers poem appeared
Before twilight of life I feared ever neared.
Was brilliant beginning of a writing career
That appeared before me exactly right here
Might forget poem so better write it down
Or in pity and sorrow I may start to drown.
Confounded with confusion what should I do?
After pulling another poem out of the blue
It was then I finally concluded and realized
Materialized poem had to be further analyzed.
Where was best place for me to begin and start
Write words down and then tare them apart
As usual was not what I ever was intending
Had bad beginning, body and terrible ending.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
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