Short Quailed Poems

Once I called all poets to come, they came
And sat in judgment upon me
With my silence I hid their shame
And watched them toasted their misery
Tell me, did then the vision of the poet failed?
Can human only know their own history
Was the larel of our friendship quailed?
Are we but blind savants of prophecy?
The maggot was an egg when the fruit was green
The ripening gold seduces its birth
For all love’s glory let me walk between
The flowering grass and the dew of earth...

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Crazed commotion commercialized
Addictive actions appraised
Watching wearily waiting
Glances, glimpses gazed 

Cell phone checked consistently
No new numbers needing names
Conniving, covetous and creative
Greedy gigantic game

Where, who and what?
Questions queenly quailed 
Answers acquiring accuracy
For a fearing fortress failed  

Captured confidence compiling
Suspicions a soaring social sight
Distrusting defiant diligence
Readily rehearsing rights 

© Stacy Lynn Stiles...

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