Late in September
I fondly remember
What caused loves engender
the days all in rhyme
Lost in September
a slave to indenture
My feelings surrendered
for you to be mine
Laughing we tendered
what pain could not enter
And boldly uncensored
each moment sublime
But Fall’s great pretender
October dismembered
Our fate the death chamber
— of Summer mistimed
(Poems Of Love: Merch, 2026)
There lived this kind, gentle poet who rhymed
Her verses and jingles were so well-timed
Then she tried simple free verse
Lines that would’ve made saints curse
Poetry formed with writing so mistimed
Eclipse
Be gone! Be gone! Foul evil beast;
This is not my place of reckoning.
The guardians of light stand at my side
And death is not yet beckoning.
In foulest stench, I see you drenched,
In blood; I see you dripping.
But I am not for the taking yet;
I am still for the living.
Come back in time, of a dying future.
The time is not now; we are alive in this state.
In time you can take me to meet your master;
But now is my time to live, so leave this place!
Do not hover nearby hoping for easy pickings;
This body still stands and is not for the giving.
You are misguided, mistimed and mislead;
Off with your head, if you expect to take me away from this blessing.
The darkness does not haunt me, as you would wish;
So be gone foul beast! Back to your bottomless pit.
My soul is still mine and you are out of your mind,
If you think I will stop suddenly;
Sooner than my time.
You are not my eclipse.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
From beaming yellow,
To violent red,
Skin peels like the pages of a book of some unloved fate,
Groaning under the flow of the mistimed shower,
Both optimistic and naive,
Grass blades pierce like shards of shimmering glass,
As i lay.
The humm of a hidden chorus in the green soothes my wounds,
Performers flee,
Twisting and darting away from nothing it seems,
Only to find the red over and over,
Feet like a drum-line..
A wry little smile cracks in the irony,
For here i shall stay.
In the coffee shop
A mistimed twist
By the barista
Caused a hissing
Coffee jet to
Ballista towards
My sister and I
Worried it would
Hit her wrist and
Give her a blister,
But fortunately
It missed her.
The manager scolded
The ham-fisted barista,
But since no-one was scalded,
He didn’t dismiss her.
Lukewarm Dream,
The ideal,
lucious, curvacious lady,
of the dream,
is temtress unreachable,
midst the steam,
hunger burns so bright,
the pressure of the rigid digit,
unbelievable,
damn,
she's drifting outa sight ...
Don Johnson
thanks Russell...
Hot Dreams,
the entertainment of the sensual,
subconcious unpaid rental,
the almost intercourse,
shattering remorse,
mistimed instrumental,
disturbing,
fell off me hobby horse....
the crunching of frozen leaves
loud at each carefully mistimed step
tells the occasional small sentinels
birds squirrels and small creatures
a larger being is coming through
their alarm filters through ahead
novice woodsmen use bare ground
disturbing less birds alarming more prey
the cold penetrates the wooly layers
sinking into rib bones and upper thighs
his eyelids squint to cover the sockets
as he breathes warmth into his body
spreading it slowly and deliberately in
concentrated effortless habit
he's older now and can't take a stand
for as long as he used to
glasses are needed to aim properly
but where to look is ingrained skill
he has cut right on his rising scent
as he climbs the hardwood hillside
wondering if bigger bucks are left handed
most circle right and he's a meat hunter
a glimpse of white stops all his movement
together they are frozen in time
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