And they would strut around the fire
Then sat upon their stools,
And argued long, in learned terms,
Who wore the better jewels!
But then there was a man about
Who none had seen before,
And though he wore a gentle face,
They felt a gentle horror.
For he did not dance around the fire
Or strut about like fools,
Nor did he argue who it was
That wore the better jewels.
And then there was a sudden fright
As when a spirit calls:
For he did not stand within the crowd
But stood within the walls!
And as he moved within the walls
A warmer air was felt,
And with a sort of sinking dread,
The walls began to melt.
They offered him their rubies
And diamonds from their hair,
They offered him the wedding bands
Of women young and fair.
They offered him the peerage,
They vowed to make him king,
They offered him the chilly duke
And any other thing.
For all of this, he did not care,
He took the world unaware
With silver lightning in his hair.
Categories:
peerage, death, fantasy, fate, fear,
Form: Rhyme
At the birth of every male child,
At his hair-cutting event styled,
At first birth-celebrations wild;
At his sister's ear-ring pomp, mild,
At school when their admissions filed,
Blasts the crumb, whole soul forces, piled...!
When enjoying a silent sleep,
When solemn meditation keep,
When, within, alone, cry or weep;
When as rituals blind-faiths, seep,
When in farms rich harvest we reap,
Roars the crumb of drum like bomb-heap...!
When boys go mystic in playground,
When girls hysterically bound,
When kith-and-kin awe-filled surround;
When moralists sow seeds so sound,
When, wildest of the wild gets crowned,
Booms crumbs of music; all get drowned...!
At great festivals of marriage,
At bride-groom's glamour-horse carriage,
At bride's courtyard like effleurage;
At death, with mourning, like steerage,
At mingle of broods like peerage,
Cracks crumbs with fullest coverage...
Crumb, for us, is not bomb or shell,
Nor any grand ancient witch-spell,
Nor blast of some planets far dwell;
It’s, loud noise pollution, like hell,
That, in truth, is a rude death-knell,
Though we cherish it like church-bell...
19 January 2022
Categories:
peerage, pollution, sound,
Form: Rhyme
On a grassy verge above the surging rill
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong
sprint to who knows where.
Date written; 23rd Of December 2020
Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022
Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15
Sponsor ; Mark Toney
A 26 line poem
Categories:
peerage, adventure, analogy, appreciation, art,
Form: Prose Poetry
A twelve and a half foot mongoose on a train could be likened to a twelvemonth tail of a tram whose movements of splash could be a beef tuning a banjo or a bamboo style crib holding up a playing card of a jack. Jacks are neither jackdaws nor jumping juniper berries. And wearing a nine piece fish outfit is best left to the eleven cups and saucers whose antics please and tell of tubular erotic notions mixed with the accessories of spoons. Peerage is not noted to be phenomenon of which the passing passengers playing points are clearly cabinet cables but vintage vocal cords of a violet variant can achieve great elongated notes at incredible octaves of otters which boom and vibrate. Great. Frumpy fractionising fraternizing fluffy socks are being very very clever as they can whirl around at anticipated cohesive chanting charges of the best beetle fields. So don't put a giant hen in a pen or a purse. Public power points pink pins. And pines rise up in the air of the nautical miles. Haha cupboard under a blanket asleep. Haha xx xx and numbered teats of the world. Xx solarisation xx z
Categories:
peerage, bangla, baptism,
Form: I do not know?
“Good morning! May I hold the door for you?”
I looked into her pleasant youthful face
Smiled and thought to myself while walking through
The opened doorway with dignified grace.
What is it about me that she proffered
This deed? Could it be because of my age
Or just a kindly gesture she offers
Anyone? Perhaps my bequeathed peerage?
Hardly, but I must admit it’s refreshing
Instead of the usual parvenus:
Fawning, feigned, insincere social climbing
Hypocrites I encounter as a rule.
I turned and held the door and stood aside
Nodded and smiled again as she passed by.
Categories:
peerage, people, social
Form: Sonnet