high ...
up there
where the lights shine bright
and the bug in your ear
sings perfection -
the people
the adoration
the energy -
whisper to you like a lover
and make you
dream
of things far beyond your
worth or import or
device
yet you squeeze -
you wring and wrangle and
strangle it like a demon
for that last little drip
of blood ...
and the music -
that beautiful beast that
courses your veins
like a drug -
that sets this world to
spin, dancing
and is the very bloom of life, itself
is the magic carpet
warm beneath your feet
that sews you
to the intoxication
and binds you like iron to its
purpose
but …
remember
in the depths of your joy
and the grip of your idle indifference
and the throes of
your morose madness …
this is not
a ...
GAME.
~ for Roby Duke ~
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, December 25, 2022
Categories:
roby, analogy, perspective, star,
Form: Free verse
Tonight
our moon will shine
out of a brown bottle
the world will spin and spin and spin
around.
Wasted
were all the words
ever said or written
every drop of ink wasted on
just words.
Painful
it is to wait
my turn to post a line
when W.F. Roby should be
next post.
Her farm
was her life blood.
It held her past apart
from her future and the present;
measured.
To rest
and to lay eggs
to warm with my feathers
to watch for cats and crows to be
on-guard.
Uncle,
I worked for him
two years in south Asia.
Did not enjoy it much; too much
shooting.
Cigars
are for baby
boys, donuts are for girls
as time passes nothing changes
but time.
Categories:
roby, life,
Form: Cinquain