Cats go out then cry to come in.
A runt-end of shade wilts.
We feel the pull of a Lunar tide,
sense the off-center mewing,
of a dissonant aria.
Trembling dogs hide their body-bones.
The air is strained through fisheyes.
A clammy light gnaws,
while white-faced mice scurry
on twilit paws.
There will be an end of sorts,
a draining away. First, there must be,
this ailing after-glow,
an infiltration that wounds
the tender skin of reason.
A mad moon had broken lose,
from the cellular jails of fitful thoughts.
A dead Siren rampaged,
in a cold rage of silence.
The day may heal, a new dawn,
defeating all spectral trails,
all night-walking fears.
Until then we must watch
a pall-bearing dusk
depart on crumbling stilts,
observe from a dwindling distance,
a naked crone wanes,
turns in ever narrowing circles,
as she seeks for her life.
Everybody’s bad day…
a badge without a star
the one who stood when others fled,
each day to raise the bar
The one they all could come to,
when freedom was in chains
the light that rampaged in the night
—to hunt what darkness claimed
(The New Room: April, 2022)
Shylo and Twixx
Were both in a fix
The Maltipoo sisters both hid
They rampaged the trash
Then, they ran in a flash
Because, they had broken
The clasp on the lid
The owner came home
To give them their bone
And to make sure...
That they both got their licks
But he took the bones away
And to both, he would say
I know you were both in the mix
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
3/12/2021
Like wild buccaneers
on a partying raid,
they came ashore.
Fierce waters and winds
wielding their destructive swords
grabbing defenceless trees by the necks:
viciously shaking their hair-like foliage heads;
bending their backs; snatching them up
and throwing them here and there.
With torrential forces,
the marauding buccaneering
waters and winds leveled mortared
and boarded constructions
as if they were thatched huts of shade.
Young and old beings
became like unripe and ripened fruits
consumed by the ravaging forces of nature.
Behind, lay skeletal fields and sandy shores
laden with rampaged debris.
Satisfied with the fun and booty,
the buccaneering twins
return to their seafaring sails
in search of more up roaring.
Meanwhile, the prodigal Sun returns,
reflecting dry salty tears
pasted on the faces of those
who must now iron out their wrinkled lives.
In the aftermath, Nature makes no apologies
and God can’t be cursed.
Our environment has programmed us not to think things out. The information onslaught has rampaged into our lives, hurrying us to the next task with no time to consider what it is what we are actually accomplishing.
Our environment has programmed us not to think things out, the information onslaught has rampaged into our lives, hurrying us to the next task with no time to consider what it is what we are actually accomplishing.
She awakens only thrills
in the rest of mankind
She has lived this life
Inside this skin with a
Quite and unruffled dignity
Because her life is a fire
In which each burns
Until it's time to toss the ashes
Never dissatisfied with herself
She cannot be rampaged
through her soul
Because she has no God
to clear up the rubble......
Apocryphal embellishments of
a non-canonical secret society,
teeming amidst a dubious
enterprising authenticity,
exposure's excessed stormy decay of
tormented poet's crushing blows,
ego's wild oats fruitlessly sown
rampaged rush to save their own flesh,
poesy's wildflower blooms wilted
under acid rein's torridity of seduction,
hence poetry's infertile demise unto
dusty shelves' apathetic surrender
My love is like a melody rocking me to sleep
My love is like a solid anchor pulling me down deep
My love is like a soothing voice
Saying nighty night
My love is like a rampaged rage
Saying hold on tight
My love is like a shooting star
Blazing through the sky
But no matter how I grow or change
My love will never die
Like cold marble statues
stiff as vague mixtures
of alcohol that stings of spirits,
cheap as famished souls.
Once were unique and proud,
now the vanishing isles!
A struggle to keep adrift
to face the blue sky vast
and unyielding, matching
that deep Pacific Ocean.
Hear us now gagging on
driftwood and rising waters.
Peaceful seas of dreams
where dancing bonitos circle
canoes,surfing freely cruising
with yellow fins in oceans of fun.
Now hear chokes of sinking feelings
and sirens lamenting restless souls.
As sea sprays watered eyes in contrition
someone changed the climate in Iceland
and desert storms rampaged our islands.
Rumblings of constipated volcanoes
longing for release but now stifled by
solar shields torn by man's greed.
As I float amongst the beaches of ghostly
Polynesian islands, the reefs cry out in
protest as navigation comes full circle,
back to 'hawaiki' our 'once was seen'
home of origin, a failed quest reiterating
the original theme of a people that "once
upon a time" existed now once again
A no man's islands.
Scottish crofters from Wallace's time,
trying to make a living of the land
committing not any crime.
With God’s grace and will to raise
a family keeping it simple, yet nothing
was going to be “run of the mill”
An English King, a tyrant so ruthless and
willing to invade. Reasoning was futile
it was impossible to persuade.
He rampaged with vast army's,
taking away the Scotsman's “freedom”
What is a life if you are not free
to roam the place you call home.
Sir William Wallace made a choice,
He stood up to be Scotland's voice.
Shining in courage strong for our
God given right “our freedom”
Wallace became the people’s champion,
put upon a pedestal, so he honoured
this with his battle skills.
With great courage and gifted in the
art of war. He defeated the English
upon the battle field, with his almighty
clamour sword.
Through the English army's impetuous
foresight. Wallace stood and watched
blood soaked as the remaining sasinacks
took flight.
On the sea breezed side of the mountains
in my share of the Land of the Free,
you will find me midst beautiful flowers
beneath a grand evergreen tree.
In winter- time it seldom freezes,
and our summers are cooled by the sea.
With soil that is richer than Midas,
it’s the life of a farmer for me.
The wonders of nature surrounding
are abundant and varied and wild.
We’re shaken now and then by an earthquake.
So far they’ve been modest and mild.
In the past our rivers have rampaged,
bringing riches from out of the sea.
We’ve tamed them with dikes and taught them
more hospitable neighbors to be.
The orcas swim up to the shoreline
and then go right back to the deep.
That I live in northwest Washington State,
is no longer my secret to keep.
By: Joyce Johnson
So I was walking down the street
When I saw someone cheat
An old lady with no teeth
Out of her seat
So I though,' that ain't right,
Old ladies can't fight
I think this grown man might
Be stupid and spite'
So I go up to the man
I ask to shake his hand
He said he wouldn't stand
For the little old woman
So I rampaged and cussed about
With a scream and a shout
And there was no doubt
The man would move out
So I'm happy to say
The man got out the way
The old lady praised
Me for saving the day
So the moral of the story is
You live the way you live
And you'll be remembered if
You're kind and cool shiz
~Reecie
The oracle leaps through no ruinous time…
Benjamin was the boldest of the four. And whether the four were
The Sons of Peace, or the Fathers of Pride, or the Sisters of Charlies,
Or the Mothers of all Milk Maids, a place to hide he would not find.
Benjamin and the Three rampaged through enemy gates.
But everyone had left. For the big River Festival.
Shame overcame the Three. Benjamin walked to the River.
Fear of the future is in it’s inevitability.
And the idea that it’s not coming at you, rather you
Are walking into it like a quiet immersion into cool water.
The festival was heard before it was seen,
Tangerine strings, frog choirs, and drum barrels
Filled the night. When Benjamin popped his head over the hill,
His nose was met with a croissant held by a mouse
Who introduced himself as mayor.
“The oracle leaps through no ruinous time,” said the mouse
As he walked with Benjamin towards the evening candle
Boats where the water got black and full of mystery.
A wild boar came into town
because he felt so alone
he rampaged some doors and entered a home
to find some food in the kitchen
I came across the story in a newspaper and it really happened in Bavaria.
Police came and thought it was a thief, but then they found tracks of the boar.
Nobody saw him and that fellow disappered into the forest after he found food in a
restauran's kitchen and in a private home
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