Peter’s prestidigitator progeny perambulated peripatetically with prodigious prowess. Perhaps his precocity precluded presumptuous perspicacity?
January, 11, 2021
Categories:
preciosity, humor,
Form: Free verse
SOMETHING BORROWED a M M Phrasis
Enough of ennui,I may I might
the mind is an enchanting thing,senses
do not deceive.Days of prismatic colour
apparations of splendour,things are what
they seem, a mosaic, a prosaic voracity
and verity.
What are years then? Efforts of affectation,
dispositions by angels? No,the past is the
present,a chameleon face of discontent.O
calamity,no swan so fine as the merits of
heredity,let the critics dream in their preciosity
for charity overcomes envy where light is speech.
A phrasis inspired by the titles of Marianne Moore Poems
Listen to me recite my phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
Categories:
preciosity, poetess, poetry,
Form: Verse
My tastes are of a peculiar kind,
The type I bet you never can find
In this lost generation of ours
That knows not the preciosity of hours.
My tastes are so amusing and odd,
And some are like those of the great men of old,
Yet some have never been,
And others shall never again be seen.
Many people talk of my tastes
As being the nature that God detests,
While I think they are perfectly well;
The sort that the tongues of angels tell!
Categories:
preciosity, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme
My tastes are of a peculiar kind,
The type I bet you never can find
In this lost generation of ours
That knows not the preciosity of hours.
My tastes are so amusing and odd,
And some are like those of the great men of old,
Yet some have never been,
And others shall never again be seen.
Many people talk of my tastes
As being the nature that God detests,
While I think they are perfectly well;
The sort that the tongues of angels tell!
Categories:
preciosity, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme
Progress shall be my work and rest
Doing what only gods can do best,
Inking choice lines of preciosity
And ever spicing their superior quality,
Till the end of my pen begins to wither
And my sweet chills turn sour or bitter!
And it shall never halt my onward progress,
And my zeal for more shall never be less.
Categories:
preciosity, devotion
Form: Rhyme