Destroyer, discrepancies.
How to sort them out?
Dismantle, then fire post-freeze.
River, run rue rout.
Destrier, to break mid-stride.
Sacrifice a pawn.
Midnight train, buy ticket, ride.
That will mow the lawn.
Priceless? Quite a prize? Surmise.
In passing? En prise.
Ring? Alchemy. Arcane? Rise.
Stifled cries? No lies.
Falconer, thy widening gyre.
Second coming? Now.
Come and see? Fine funeral pyre.
Live wire, take a bow!
Broil and char? From near to far.
Muskellunge and gar.
Peacocks pretty, poison par.
Dream, seem. Lead. Red star.
Serenity? Stable, sage.
Madness, mycophage.
Roundabout, rill. Rusty cage.
Symptoms mad, thy age.
Ark electric, how you burn.
Tones, burst sonic flame.
Mind cartoons? Ashes in urn.
Same game? Claim the name.
Armies, mechanize and wail.
Never end, our tale.
Weak resistance stale, you fail.
Blaspheme, boil and bail.
Silver, sickles. Red regrets.
Automaton, glean:
He who risks it all once bets.
Wind and wintergreen...
Priority, thy possession?
Primer, coat the prize?
Plight, blight, bane, ban, thy passion!
Pine trees? Fine eyries...
Ghoul in ancient armies?
He surely battle seeks?
Dole and duress, pass en prise!
Lentil, call the leeks...
Tumultuous tempest, toss!
Dynamite the dross!
O for painters without gloss!
Lyrics lament loss!
Folly? Well, gosh golly!
Blessed are the dead!
Hang high, Yule-rite holly!
Coffins line with lead!
Soul of wizard, thy blizzard!
Blossom, mandrake, here!
Pearl
rapids
steam cascade
haunting canvass
a red dawn smoulder
to prise sluggish eyelids
of zestful bright mood riser
who gulps in rapt awestruck spoonfuls
of mosaic zone enthralled enclave
awash with random sun drenched blue pool plops
Where giddy children cast green hue pebbles
as dulcet birds tweet from gaunt elm twigs
and rainbow trouts skim silver streams
wet grass clumps sag on mud banks
a grey fleck morning haze
that scene shift migrant
a spring usher’s
mint leaf scent
in faint,
gust
Step by step - you follow me.
Step by step - I count to three.
Step by step - let's make a bet:
I'll give you a prise you won't forget.
One - I run down corridor.
Two - then, hide behind a door.
Three - I have no place to flee.
What is now supposed to be?
The count is out - of course, no doubt,
I have no one to blame but me.
No one will hear my helpless shout,
No soul will see my graceless plea.
Step by step - you hold a knife.
Step by step - no place to hide.
Step by step - you caught me, then
I won't play with you again.
hanging
i am the piece that’s lost
caught in the little flanks
for the rooks and vultures
to devour
at this hour
where sunlight and twilight
do more than merely rhyme
hung by wire
i pass the time
soaking up sunfire
hanging
and i dangle
swaying to the winds that mangle
i
am
torn
and
tattered
won’t someone get me down from here?
splatter my brains
and scatter my remains?
(i’ve no need for myself)
save the dirges
for someone who gave a rat’s ass
about living
every day was my funeral
this is my finale
the end of me
So Serene the eyes
Beloved Blessed Beautiful
Ever so lovely prise
10/11/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o24
Jealous Jillian meets zealous Philip at Arby’s.
With ONE green eye she spies his double-order curly fries,
No FUN when his French dip starts to drip on her Barbies.
She cleans them off and leans close in to his plate
SNEAKING a meager handful while eager Phil tries
to confess for the FREAKING mess he’s made of their date.
She orders Smokehouse Brisket; he GETS a gravy/biscuit.
PLUS as a “to go” surprise, IT’S two apple pies.
THUS Phil walks Jill home. A goodnight kiss? will he risk it?
.
i can French this
thought ya know
lisp it ')
If one could feel mine
torso
it's thump
tap tap
tap'n this true
in congnac
charging my cell
in the
"Public Gardens"
hern
sweet white
in
elle
sneek az
i
je voulais tout tenir
a quel point ma prise
serait douce
i had to
wait
for mine
sweet
thoughts uv hern
for
her be
to
stood
proud
Some consider they pen perfect poems -
me, I just write about poop!
I'd win the No Bull Poetree prise butt speelling is knot my forty!
07/27/23
All that you despise
this man who now toys
A human beings eyes
The void and how it lies
All that you despise
Quorn covered in flies
A guy who seems wise
Never winning first prize
All that you despise
This irritating noise
of a rhymester who tries
His comment that defies
All that you despise
those who are baptised
A will you cannot prise
The US military size
All that you despise
those of us who rise
Having to break off ties
A poet? now chastised
By
David Kavanagh
“Daisy Hill”
a garden to please
distant, yet ever near
in splendid hue.
Yet here now
the chill of winter’s
wrath, which initiates
spirited breath.
Tenderness
upon the bypass where,
memory does walk
through days gone by.
“Manor Garth”
place of sorcery
speculator, astute
evil and wry.
Industry
without face without
grace, a mechanical
tragedy here.
A shop floor
for humanity
searching, if only to
plead sanity.
Amber leaves
rattle the naked highway,
like windswept flocks from
mountains high.
Dry stone walls
history riddled shout,
along country roads
and velvet sky.
“Cuckoo Nest”
guardian of the moorside,
stone walls devoid
living blood wilt.
Millstones prise
out a condolence yet,
parched with canopy in
“Nab wood” Built.
Rock’n’Roll
ricochets upon
“Chelker” A mind in tune
harmony wise.
Bicycle
breaks the silence of night,
before rolling clouds
will the sunrise.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
There is a stall down by the dock
Selling the freshest seafood stock.
Creatures in shells, caught just offshore.
Live oysters there for eating raw.
Each one sealed up and watertight.
To prise open it is a fight.
Down in one, living flesh slither.
Sudden burst of ocean flavour.
Only these ones you eat alive
If you expect to stay alive.
Oysters help keep men in the pink
As they contain a lot of zinc.
Tis healthy food without a doubt.
Best washed down with some Irish stout.
Now Casanova knew the score,
As he ate live oysters galore.
He knew how to play a good game
Eating fresh oysters without shame.
There is a stall down by the dock
Selling the freshest seafood stock.
When I let one loose in the elevator
alas I’m locked in with mater and pater
I wish I could drop right through the floor
because Pa can’t prise open the lift door
My parents both pass out with the smell
and so I hammer on the emergency bell
When the firemen release us from the lift
I leave a silent but deadly foul ‘farting gift’
When I Let One Loose In The Elevator Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
08/01/21
Knit one purl one, knit two together.
Drop a stitch, it runs.
Unpick, pick-up the loops one by one,
align them, precisely, nicely right,
on your knitting needle.
Get back to counting sheep to sleep
where you left off.
Knit one, purl one, knit two together.
Repeat to end of line.
Seams unseemly, jeans too loose.
Letting out is needed.
Stitch-picker to the rescue.
Pry and poke the needle in
and cut unseemly threads that bind
and hold the seams together.
But if it hurts, depends
on when you have your stitches out.
To pick up the pieces,
swivel and swing, parry and prise
those pick-up sticks in turnpike prickly stack,
red ones, green ones, blue and violet.
It's up to you to choose, the piece you want to lose
without jostling, moving or shaking any other piece.
For if it wobbles, ever so slightly,
your friends will notice
and you lose.
Je retiens espoir
Chassons qui garde notre bien-être
La foi prise en tête
Pour mettre fin à l'interdit des rassembles
Travaillons ensembles
Prenons Dieu par la main
Saison le chagrin
L'amitié vous le croyait
Assez qu'ont le pardonnerais
Ma jeunesse m'ennuie pas
Toujours quelques pas derrière moi
Merci à Dieu
Si chaleureux
En grand esprit
Je vous en supplie
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