Short Recount Poems

I recount my sins,
The odds against me,
Like great mountain peaks,
Bleed hope....

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Trump claims he was chosen by God
To eliminate voter fraud
Electors beware
Trump's minions are there
"Correcting" each vote they find "odd"...

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filled blurry eyes
this embrace
old view prevails
stoical
by recount
shuffling selves
hadn't we known
truth mattered
then it crawled underneath
and died...

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I recount the nightmares from Heaven
I cling all of them tight between my fingers
For this is my home this despair I have 
For I cannot fling it to someone else. 

These are my desires and my pains
The nightmares I dream for you....

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George walked past the throngs
Straight to the pier.
It had been a long day
And he needed
To digest it all, to recount
time.
To remember love again.
To catch it
In the air.
His large hands on the wooden rail,
Julie came to mind....

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Why would I silence my eyes for the night
And surrender to slumber
And a fractured patchwork of pictures,
When I could let them recount 
Each electric detail of the evening just past
That I spent in your eyes, on your lips, on your heart?...

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Prolonging the inevitable
Wanting this feeling to linger
Succumbing to the infallible 
Feeling like we're strangers
Staring at me w/a dormant gaze
Your heart lost in a haze
Wanting us to recount the days
When we were happy & in love....

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Secretly I cherish each moment
Serenely I wish for a renewal
Whimsically my adornment sways with the breeze
As softly and tearily I recall each past liase
Sweet serendipity completes this abysmal morrow
As I recount my blessings despite my sorrow...

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Pale daughters of a certain age
are crestfallen when it snows
Still they recount the footfall
of the hardy walkers

Fog holds a certain allure
as they ponder their morality

But frost strikes at their sails
as they acknowledge their foibled hands...

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President Donald Trump will not concede
    Sure Biden lost, and he was in the lead
                Demands a recount;
                Says it's a miscount,
Not to mention the bizarre tweets he keyed 












Contest:Out On A Lim
Sponsor: Joseph May
11/18/2020...

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it only takes a crack of light
to write of her, my true delight

to recount the times she was near.
to paint a picture of her, my dear.

to pen poems about so rare a beauty 
seems more a privilege than a duty.

it only takes a crack of light
to write of her, my true delight

©SamHarty...

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I look upon her purely angelic face
And recount her recent devilish ways
Only four yet a handful already!
Her words make me smile
Her frown draws a laugh
The more I laugh the larger she frowns
How could I laugh at her impish moans
How lucky am I to behold this charade
Of my  four year old and her parade!...

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At the cross roads i stood,
Bedeviled with indecision
But i must travel one path
A making or marring decision,
I snubbed the throes path
For the greener and grassy path
Have been on this greener path
For a century, only to be trapped
In  staccato doldrums,
I shall recount to my offspring
The folly of wrong decision


awoh awoh...

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I hide in the shadow
  of another’s fear
  so the voice may go away

And then left
  inside an orphan’s silence
  to recount every wordless day

To walk a path
  that another breaks
  under a dark forbidden sky

Crying those tears
  by another made
    —my pen bereft and dry

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)...

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The wind hears many secrets
As he blows at his election.
Only a hearer at best –
He mulls them over and again
But doesn’t repeat or think aloud
For there are too many to recount.

The wind also has many lovers –
Appreciating the trees –
Caressing the flowers
And cooling warm cheeks
But preferring to roam –
Blows away to a place unknown....

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There’s no amount
Which does not count
In an account…

Yep, no amount
Sellers discount
And while recount
Your whole story 
Fail to glory:
Place in praised sky
For being Quite High…

Don’t pressures mount
After discount
For more from Fount
Or self soon count
The Badly Bluffed,
His wish rebuffed…

Discounts fetch smiles;
Who gave went miles!...

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Polymath Siren,
her flower returns

New stirrings to write
new melody to learn

Renaissance memory,
its present announced

Freeing your psyche,
past-future recount

Polymath harlot,
love pledged again

Petals now varied,
spread from within

Bouquet filled enigma,
here until gone

Leaving always one seedling
—to finish her song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)...

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Carefully I slip my favorite ring off the finger we shared,
 Looking at its reflection as I gaze off into the mirror.
 
I gently rub at my finger and recount the years it was there,
 I cant help the feelings as my reflection sheds a tear.
 
Memories and images that really of should been here,
 But I can't recall enough times that you were around to hear.
 
Or to even care what became of you or where....

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If Paris Hilton wrote poetry
her poems would be smart, not dumb
They would not skim the surface
of her glam life
recount her escapades
but dig deep into her isolation
They would employ complex ideas
sophisticated diction
unusual images
She could easily be Mrs Dalloway
beyond her socialite persona
or Emma, with that dignified gaze
There's depth in those blue eyes
gleaming under the flashbulbs...

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Rotten Smile

(18/08/08)

I was having my walk today
Watching over the beautiful park
Sweeping the landscape of clay
With my eyes then I saw you there
Giving me your rotten smile

I always imagine someone else
Hugging me, smiling at me
Neither you nor your rotten smile
The hard reality couldn't even recount my pain

I'm stuck with you
Your rotten smile haunts me down
ever you realize that you are rotten to me?...

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Out on the heath hies a lady in white,
Riding a giant toad;
Who is that woman, luminescently bright,
Spurring her steed on the road?

West Country witch whom, legends recount,
Transformed her man with a spell:
Cuckolding lover, she made him her mount—
Unclad, she straddles him well.

Reptile croaking along on the path;
Lady, equestrienne witch,
Whacking his scaly skin with a lath,
Hopping each brook and broad ditch....

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Pack the horror away and store it deep inside
   Bury the diary in the backyard half a meter deep
Shred every single photo; cast them to the wind
   Set fire to your memories; never let them see you weep

Don't recount your past to anyone, no matter they be close
   Clench your teeth together; there's no such thing as hope
Get married, bear children, go to work each day
   One dark night they'll find you ~ hanging from a rope...

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Polymath Siren,
 —in a flower returns

    new stirrings to write
    new melody to learn

Renaissance memory,
  intrudes unannounced

Freeing your psyche,
  past-future recount

A Polymath harlot,
  all love pledged again

With petals now varied,
  and spread from within

Her bouquet filled enigma,
  is here until gone

Leaving always one seedling,
 —to finish her song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)...

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Whispers of who we are sometimes in the none conversations
By Poet


When I speak I fret, more than you know
How do I come across, should I just go?
I'm too aware of cues, was I given the heave ho?
So what did you mean when you said 'so'?
Pfft, I've gone on too much, now I'm being a schmo!
Erase this convo, no, don't recount blow by blow...
Right, ok... Same time tomorrow :)...

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The suddenness of desertion,
the emptiness of time

Abandoning each moment,
as clocks strike their chime

And wherego the hours,
once used and cast off

Are there auctions and markets
for each second that’s lost

And who’s to recount
the old wishes unprayed 

With days ever changing,
and voices relayed

The end a beginning,
the beginning an end

To drift in its circle
—time never respent 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2020)...

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