Short Mort Poems

pots fruit eggs& curtains * by Klee
'nature mort' in fee fantasy...

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Death has a blood-laced eye,
Bleary from watching the world.
By Christ he is blinded from brightness on high:
Lasers of light at Death’s eyes have been hurled....

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In his closet Mort had a skeleton
  Draped o'er an undelivered Peleton
    A bag of bones himself
    Mort was a Christmas elf
  Dined on doughnut holes atop gelatin...

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We both got drunk,
          in briefness of 
          wine of pleasure...
          We die for an instant
          in the succinct eternity
          of Petite Mort.... !...

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I once met a guy by the name of Mort
By his record he must be very smart
At five, High School complete
College at six; a feat
A leaper; birthdays are four years apart

Submitted by Charles Sides...

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will to do has fallen short
nothing fazes 
je suis mort
hide me so non can see 
reject the world in front of me 
corpse soon to rot away 
let me be one more day 
turning into a single cell  
life is just as well...

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A number of centuries ago
In 1692, in a place called Glencoe
      Where a massacre took place
      And the Clan Campbell lost face
When neighbours were sometimes your foe







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php...

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I love your naked body
A canvas for my claws
In the midst of pain and pleasure
Your bound to do it all
From the ripping of the flesh, La petite mort 
You feel the little death
Only one rose knows your name
But the thorns are why you came....

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destule despre basmelor care apar?in mort în cazul în care acestea sunt în car?i Childrens . aceasta este via?a reala mine ?i tine . esti gata pentru acest test ? numai cei care se dovedesc a fi demni vor trece ?i numai dispus sa urmeze un astfel de test ....

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Un oiseau a volé

 

Je rêve
La fleur rêve
Rêves qui tombent du ciel
Amer est le miel
 
Toutes les fleurs se sont noyées sous la pluie
Moi, je ne sais pas qui je suis
Sauf que j’ai été perdu toute ma vie
Mort ou vivant

Tous les rêves ont disparu
 
Même toi...

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There was once a village tailor named Clyde

   Who was known for his misfits though he tried.

      He altered trousers for Mort.
 
         Mort said, "The inseam's too short!"

            My! My!  Mort, how you have grown!" Clyde replied!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Copyright (All Rights Reserved)...

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the stubborn semi stood on his head
you cannot make me go, he said to Ed
Ed was angry now, a trucker who never swore
You are a piece of work, metal scrap and more!

the town came to see the semi and gave support
he was just protesting his wages, said Uncle Mort
He has been on his head for sixteen weeks now, of course.
Ed finally left, riding away on a sad looking horse....

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It started as play,
I was happy and gay,
he was keeping at bay,
but soon he began to bay,
and hot things to say,
his breath became short,
I was in a deathly mort,
he hungrily stuffed me,
and entered me,
injured me,
and bruised me,
he left a body alive,
but spirits all dead,
if I was older,
perhaps I could have bore,
but I was just a kid,
and life I had to lead much,much,much more...

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Listen to poem:

mes larmes coulent pour le mystère de la mort
la tristesse qui te hantait au creux du coeur
avec ce goût toujours amer de la vie sur les lèvres
mais enfin te voici affranchie

l’amant tant attendu arrivé
dans la nuit et ravie tu l’as suivi 
au-delà des ténèbres
l’âme déliée libérée



Translated from my poem DEATH CAME IN THE NIGHT

AP: Honorable Mention 2022

Posted on May 15, 2021...

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Loin d’ici

Quand votre cœur est perdu
Lorsque votre âme est noyée
Tout
Est loin d'ici

Quand la chanson est perdue
Lorsque la mélodie pleure
Les yeux perdus regardent le ciel
Vous vous sentez, une mort froide

Loin d’ici
À la recherche du paradis
Tous les rêves sont morts
Comme moi, morte

Mon cœur
Est toujours loin

Loin d'ici
Où le froid me touche

Loin d'ici



		Avec toi...

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Weather Report

Cloudy
                                Rainy
                   Bloody wet
             Winds and lust
                   Hanging on, even the dust
    Limbs fall
                            Baby’s crawl
              Storms rage inside my head
                            Oceans calm breeze arrives
        To find me dead




Jour de la météo
Caché sous
La mort par le métro...

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March hare rides a bike to twinkle town court
The rest of the bunnies are a bit jealous of Mort.
He thinks he’s all that, and I guess maybe he is.
Said a caramel-eating rabbit named Oldie McGizz.

Mort hears the chatter, and smiles deep and wide.
He has self-confidence, which means he likes himself inside.
He keeps pedaling, all the way to twinkle town court.
Thinking to himself, I am the most amazing Mort....

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the sun is breaking
my icicle is melting
the cow needs milking

take the teets
squeeze between
fingertips rhythmically
pulling while she's

pushing my buttons
undoing exposing
hairy cleavage

undying though
trying to attain
la petite mort
sorting and shuffling

shoveling grey matter
just a matter of time 
garden hose watering

the flower
powder my hand
to throw a spit ball
strike three you're out...

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reality 
      in space 
representations
 of     perspectives
             perceived

exposures 
             of  idiosyncratic 
questions
       without answers 

intent to disturb
                or calm

the art of making 
             not judging

 fragments flattened
       in two dimensions 
it is what it is 

          ..just ways & means 

depictions
            sans
               explanations...

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‘et je l'ai regardée expirer tant de fois’

and I watched her expire so many times
when bound by phantoms
at realities edge
take not a shallow breath
but inhale each others
tangled prayers

melded bodies, melted minds
where a heartbeat crashes
to drum upon heavens door
and anarchy reigns 
with expunged cries

in loss is found escape
when reality slips
and space between time
feels like death

***Inspiration - La Petit Mort...

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