Untrammeled by his Tweeting tears
His hand now explore forward gears,
Itching for a new leap,
Let ‘woods be dark and deep’,
For a hit, hard and hot,
Now or not, on the spot,
Not for naught a lone Musketeer!
_____________________________________
Happenings | 10.03.2023 | now
Poet’s Note: Musk fishes in troubled waters. Silicon Valley Bank is in trouble. He is contemplating acquiring it… soon after Tweeter. But we know, he is a lone Musketeer..
Quote: Some of the best speakers in the world
are those who were listeners first....
The rain gently whispers to my window I am here
as the trees chuchot to each other with terms of endearment
The endless sky has an auditory hum as if to say
you might be drenched today
The dawn is singing acapella as she readies for a dance
while the daylight waltzes softly on the steps of day
The hour of seven has just begun for me
I can hear the handles clocking free
The silence is louder than the noise of mid afternoon
yet softer still then the silent stars of heaven
The day has just begun and I can already hear
the first tweet of a birdling musketeer
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name Poetry Marathon Mile 14 |
Sept 15 2022
She tried so hard to fit in it was funny
But her disposition was sweet and her smile was sunny
So we gave her a pass, and smiled at her lovely ass
And let her join, without token or coin.
She was the ultimate wannabee, so don’t you see…
We did what we could, to allow her to be….
A musketeer, we became four instead of three
For she worked so hard to fit in, it was truly funny!
Keep it real, we said. Her face was all red.
She knew we had allowed, and she felt rather proud.
She became kind of a pet, flying as high as a jet.
Glad that we let her in, it was a win-win.
Everything was set and plans were made
The two Musketeers would become three
The day you finally came
But it all went wrong in the blink of an eye
No heartbeat to hear but they promise no blame
Sometimes life is just this way
Beyond devastation, utter humiliation,
Left to die inside alone
Then my first Musketeer, my best friend
Couldn't hold on anymore and so began his end
Watching the suffering with hands so tightly tied
My heart was exploding but nowhere to hide
I watch in horror as all I loved died
Taking with them all of me
But the tears I nightly cried
A lone Musketeer cannot make it alone
Her horse too feeble as her shack is no home
So I sit and linger these torturous days of agony alone
I see their faces and know they wait for me
Why must I endure this anguish here without them?
And remain in life’s shadows
FOREVER UNSEEN
First read Jan Allisons, "One lonely musky tear"
One Lonely Musketeer
Tiss true I have me comrades
Men at arms, one for all and all for one
When it comes to love, seems I ride alone
A big nose of whiskey, the ladies seem to run
My sword may latch on to a knicker or two
Those lassies sure do run fast, they do
I serenade them with inebriated rhymes
They laugh and say I am out of me mind
I shall conquer armies on horse and sword
The thorn of the rose, and scorn of me mistress
Shall be my ultimate demise
One lonely Musketeer
Salami for a Horse.
Driving home from the man whose profession
is to study people´s entrails, rice pudding he
had said and no booze- and for this banality
he charged me 80 euros; the car stopped and
I opened the back door- of the car- and let out
my horse. It is a small horse my feet reached
the ground and I helped the horse by walking
too- sitting. Nearing home it galloped which
was painful for my ankles.
Stabled it on the veranda, but as I had no hay
it eat the wicker chair, which displeased my cat
that used to sleep in it. Morning, the horse was
on the road the cat sat on top of it dressed as
a musketeer, looking like Tony Bandera, the cat
swung its hat the horse neighed; I opened a tin
of low fat rice pudding, - had wanted salami
on warm loaf with butter- rang for a tow- truck
and horseless began walking to the car.
Strode the red with a somewhat elegant stance.
Posture strut, apparel of a musketeer from France.
Outstanding panache surely caught the glance
Of the staring virgins, of the glaring aunts.
Flipped the cattle into a ga ga trance....
Did I make a wrong landing, by the faintest chance?
For the ga ga now seemed more like a look of askance.
Clearly, I was an optical nuance.
I do like this time of the year.
But it does bring a tear.
I have no one,
to have that fun.
Alone eating my three musketeer.
“A poet’s pestilence – dash off from him away!
He is sickness and, because of this,
you, crazy, bring on home the plague
but you don’t know the verse bacillus is.
He’s garrulous, a tawdry trouble-maker,
plays rattle in the gaper’s front,
the rogue who wanna burn with water
and now he’s spoiling for the fight!
Like a musketeer he has a wick.
He keeps his powder in a musket.
With naked pendant, tight-rope freak,
of the untrodden thicket he’s a midget.
All jumble from the farce he takes.
He’s loopy not having any clue
and if you’re curious in ahs an` ohs
then you should know that all is from a glue”.
___________________________________________
The poet thinks all these words to himself.
God gave him gift not just for weight.
He’s bothering his soul to save
it from the wicked spirits hate.
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