Delusional scimitars
festive daggers
soft balalaika
captive sword ...
Mandolins,
hot nights
harps, wine
poison,...
dangers
daggers
Banjo and
boldness,
gypsy waltz,
ruby joy ...
I desire
of life,
The beauty,
arpeggios
Utopia...
the art
for art to fight ...
be craftsman
of delights
live life in
complete
Bohemia......
Categories:
scimitars, allegory, allusion, celebration, extended
Form: Free verse
Gypsy heart
Delusional Scimitars
festive daggers
soft balalaika
captive sword ...
Mandolins,
hot nights
harps and wine
venom of passion, ...
dangers
daggers
Banjo and
boldness,
gypsy waltz,
jubilant joy ...
wish of
of life,
The beauty,
arpeggios
Utopia...
the art
for art to fight ...
be an artisan
of the delights
live life in
fully
Bohemia......
Categories:
scimitars, allusion, analogy, art, poetry,
Form: Free verse
a sparkling expanse, lapping the horizon,
crinkled by the weight of torrential bright
the airborne eye, squinting,
catches sight of a flotilla,
parallel, bloodless gashes on liquid lapis,
pointy beaks gently pecking docile waves,
their wakes lengthening, then fanning,
a formation of miniature peacocks with
oversized white trains mopping the water,
all their iridescent colors washed into the
Mediterranean blue
the sails lean over lazily, a unison of
puffed-up scimitars slicing around a buoy,
slow-tattooing pristine curlicues on the sea skin,
returning to harbour and ice buckets
sprouting beaded bottles of gold
Categories:
scimitars, boat, light, sea, summer,
Form: Free verse
Watch them on this Summer’s night –
They hunt and sleep upon the wing,
Scything through the fading light
With high-pitched screams – they never sing.
High in the humid air they sail
Like scimitars, their swept-back wings
A sooty brown with short forked tail;
They prey on flies and other things.
A Spitfire squadron’s deadly flight,
Now swooping low across the lane,
Airborne spiders now in sight –
Attack ! Climb high and swoop again.
These summer visitors will fly home soon
To Africa, before the next new moon.
Categories:
scimitars, bird, summer,
Form: Sonnet
Lame sunrises and midday sunsets
Fangs in words and perils in laughters
Sweet archs of smiling fires and silky shouts in talking forests
I come from the bitter of cobstones paved down the coalfield
Broken lutes and snoring cork oaks
Freckles of lipstick and suckles of martinis
A bosom of pounds, a pavilion of dangling beryls and a breech of honeycombs
I come from the lust of the chaste lass
White moths and black mushrooms
Coffins of treasures amid covens of night mayors
Whispers of thunders and creaks of ant-steps
I come from the stones in the chicken's gizzard
Shards of fate and vials of morphine
Ponds of rheum and fogs of cold incense
A stew of scimitars, a brandise of stone and the heathenry of whitesmiths
I come from the furs in the abattoir
Sonnets in pools of ink and grace in quills of peacocks
Sequels of black weresheep and bugles of lean shepards
A wit of one accord and a grit of a myriad taut
I come from furnace that boils the molten poetry soup
Categories:
scimitars, identity, meaningful, mirror, symbolism,
Form: Free verse
Come fly with me
said she
One good tern
deserves
another
And did I so yearn
with her to share
the air
Up we soared
and down we roared
between the sea's deep blue
and sky's paler hue
Between the waves’ white spray
and clouds high away
As speeding arrows, we traced
two trails across foam crests
calling as we raced
pure, sweet nothings
And sharp as scimitars
our slim, white wings
spray and air did slice
Enough said she, no more
And down and down she dove
and through the great pine’s boughs
a twisting path she wove
wings fluttering fast
until at last
by her side she bid me settle
So I passed the test
that measured well my mettle
that meant with her I’d nest
Like some other species White Terns engage in courtship flights. The male flies after the female matching her aerobatics as best he can. Apparently his genes are being tested
Categories:
scimitars, bird,
Form: Free verse
Pavement cafe, nine fifteen cradling a coffee (as you do)
from my left the china doll with clicking heels strode into view.
Tempting lips kissy-kissed with crimson, cheeks caressed
with blush, and poreless,
painful teasing made those scimitars for eyebrows nigh on flawless.
Hair of sunlit copper billowed like an Eton teacher's gown,
open trench coat followed suit as china hurried into town.
Head turned sideways, in each shop window she looked at her reflection
checking for the slightest hint of any sort of imperfection.
So wrapped up in herself, my my, how deep self worship had bit you
that you didn't see the lamp post until suddenly it hit you-
walked straight into it with quite a clang at such a rapid pace
recoiled, lurched back, bewildered- it was then I saw her face.
The laughter from the passers-by just made it even worse
as, shaking, she sat down near me and fumbled in her purse.
Tearful now,still reeling from her public humiliation
she got the make-up mirror out for damage limitation.
Haughtiness gone, the facade broken sat lovely Amanda,
legs like a flamingo but her right eye like a Panda.
Categories:
scimitars, love hurts, pain,
Form: Light Verse
Are your eyes made from the surging debris from the scintillating stars?
Are your voice made from the tranquil tune from the guitars?
Are your fingers been forged and formed in the God's altar?
Are your sense of smell made from the aroma of the rose's attar?
Are your sweet lips made from a sugar-rich rare nectar?
Are your missile-like words made from the explosive mortars?
Are your ears' edges made from the lancinating scimitars?
Are your nose made from the Excalibur owned by King Arthur, the czar?
Are your hairs made in the Valles Marineris canyon in Mars?
Oh, and are you the shadow of God in the human avatar?
Categories:
scimitars, love
Form: Romanticism
Let Genesis speak of light with arcane vocabulary,
Shafts of dawning, worms of glowing,
Splitting through the black night-capped skull,
Pale scimitars of drizzle painting winds blowing.
Now the storm had died away, mere twitching left,
Nerves of branch and reed, spasm crippled and crawling,
Bristling combs of dead god breath, sighing,
Rippling the dew dropped grass, restless trawling.
The brandy tincture stained the remnant red sky,
Raked coals wetted and sizzled in the span of day,
Felled trees, spines snapped, boughs dislocated,
Leaves paralysed and becalmed as night blew away.
Categories:
scimitars, nature,
Form: Verse