I tied a string to my tricycle handle.
In the basket, I placed a shining candle.
From the other end, I tied a balloon.
By hook and crook, I knew that one day soon,
I'd be in the court of the Crimson King.
But what would he offer - not a thing.
He sailed a walnut shell in the gutter,
floating like a boat without a rudder.
So, I pedaled to the frozen North,
as my balloon and I sallied forth.
Categories:
sallied, childhood, journey, nonsense,
Form: Rhyme
The scuffling duo sparred in the park
Their screams and shouts so very marked
A bag was clutched in the woman's hand
A man had grabbed it while he harangued
"Let go!" He shrilled and tugged it more
"Tis mine, not yours!" The woman swore
The strap tore his hand, he released his grip
The woman fell back in one mighty trip
Another spoke out with voice strong and stern
"It belongs to her, so it must be returned."
The other placated the poor fallen lass
He showed her the bag with gold coloured hasp
The woman leapt up, grabbed the bag and was gone
"It belonged to my wife." Said the man all forlorn
"Oh I'm sorry." Said the other, watching her go
Laughing and jeering, bag firmly in tow
She headed toward a blue, murky pond
The path, alongside, was slippy beyond
Now her footing was lost to the slime and the mud
As she sallied forth into furthermore sludge
The man strode swiftly to view her demise
With a duck on her head holding its prize
The little red bag was firm in its beak
So the man took it back and the duck said quack quack.
Categories:
sallied, funny,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
Shirley sallied forth with another amusing quip
Does she never take life seriously? Asked stern face
I chose to ignore him, preferring Shirley every day
She is always joking, stern face said to another woman.
She did not reply either.
Shirley enters the lunchroom with fairy dust and magic sparkles
Stern Face brings in gravel and disgust.
Categories:
sallied, feelings,
Form: Free verse
She accidentally unleashed her pleasurable inner real
It pranced out from the belt at her throat
Traveled to the edge of her somber aura
Showed itself to be intuitive and wise
She watched carefully, mirroring her inner real
Fixing things in the reflection of sometimes
A haughty aloof reaction that sallied forth in precision
Leaving her empathetic aura wondering about her sanity
No one notices that she is balancing on an edge of something
she is too pretty to try for, so most men avert their eyes downward
looking for dumpier specimens with fat necks like their mothers
Giving her freedom to study her other selves.
There is a grayscale feeling about her today
Her inner real feels dangerous and provocative,
not unlike a fast-talking, over-confident detective from the forties
Her male side comes out and leads her inner real back into her throat.
Categories:
sallied, mental illness,
Form: Free verse
The sky awoke and the clouds broke
With a flash of light like spear thrown
Thunder cracking splitting ground
Cascading water flowing down
Rivers bursting embracing all
A land once fair now full of gall
Embraced by watery cast spell
Changed face of field and dale
Where streams once sallied
And dreamily wandered
Woken now to nightmare sound
Rocks and stones driven down
Trees uprooted floating away
Detrious spewed on another shore.
A deluge of pain upon the world,
Drowning all in its relentless path,
Rich and poor no distinction made,
Matters not to the rushing wave,
Good or bad all taken from life,
Behold the flood of gathered strife.
© Andrew Provan McIntyre 26/9/2016 5.21pm.
Categories:
sallied, environment,
Form: Dramatic Verse
This is the day the Lord gave.
His blessing is guiding our way.
He has manifested the extraordinaire.
He is why we live.
His intervening in human affairs has brought forth humanitarian events...
Insofar, our episodic existence augments our intelligence.
Stated to be a poetic boon, god sent for sure.
Divine intervention scribe on our scrolls, we are pathfinders to fulfill our inner core.
Life formed to live, we are human beings.
Our footprints came long-ago via the Apostles and Prophets of the Lord.
Great Awakening took place and religion emerged.
No statue is limit in our theological presence.
We must keep company to our beliefs.
Therefore, a psalmist endurance becomes his or her poetic content.
We may write in prose, verse and flow, or both.
Our spirits will explore.
Our souls will be exposed.
Divine intervention is deification interference.
Interpolation defines our cause.
Wisdom sallied forth.
Pure utterance is a godsend.
We are scribes of history.
We are the writers of a holy scripture for humanity.
_______________________________________________________|
Verlena S. Walker
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 16, 2014!
Categories:
sallied, baptism, inspirational, prayer, religion,
Form: Free verse
The Cobra’s Nightmare
By Elton Camp
Carl the Cobra has little to fear
Few enemies to him draw near
He can flatten his neck and hiss
When striking, he’ll seldom miss
His venom is the most toxic around
One bite & his victim will go down
Carl sallied forth one fine day
He was hungry for some prey
After he had enjoyed a good meal
A quick nap, Carl decided to steal
A pleasant dream he had at first
Then came a nightmare--the worst
Carl found himself in a terrible spot
Not facing one mongoose, but a lot
“How’d I get in such a fix as this!”
Poor Carl dreamed of his final hiss
Categories:
sallied, funny,
Form: Rhyme
The moth will rail against
the light,
beat wings to fracture glass
or extinguish flame;
life surrendered, uncomprehending,
and yet it loves the light.
The bat will fly against
the night,
serrated form cleaving scars
on lunar face;
beating a path, no understanding,
and yet it loves the night.
I have raged against
your light,
sallied words to wreak hurt,
to issue pain;
yet without reason, now I realise,
for, true, I love your light.
Categories:
sallied, devotion, life, love, passion,
Form: Blank verse
Words we sallied back and forth,
I feel the burn, all right, behind my eyes;
Slow faltering motions, pained waves of sound,
Decision made, my life goes on, yet strangely dies.
Smiling my good intentions out of bounds,
Your face, you know, still does this;
Strands me childlike, lost, clinging to toys,
Praying in silence for one last kiss.
I spend my life beating on closed doors,
So sweet the hurt, I believe it's true;
Wanting you magically to open them up,
In knowing I thought the world of you.
I say I can accept things with ease,
You see me cold, I assume, I shrug it down;
Not once did you ever say how you felt,
So I wrack in the car from town to town.
With my bruised desire slapped and sober,
Was it necessary, you think, after all,
The demeaning sleep-over brush-off that
Cried: No more games of racquetball?
Perhaps we are right to claw for the embers
And kick and piss the fire out;
Until it hissed and smoked and died half death,
Leaving me decimated and still with doubt.
Categories:
sallied, angst, lost love, love,
Form: Rhyme