Glasses, goggles, shields spare us
From the dangers that would snare us.
So the Savior’s love will bear us,
Carry, shelter and prepare us.
Nothing in the world should scare us,
Nothing in the world impair us;
For the Lord above compares us
To his precious eyes, and dares us
Live with joy, for he declares us
His alone, of gems the rarest.
Impulse impulse impulses
That seven metric beating
Sets forth the measure even
Sooth hear heart beat you see ah
Seven beats the CPU,
Seven for the storage true,
Seven for the network's flight,
Seven keeps the fleet in sight.
Sir acknowledged Admin 'o
Fleet of e'ver Sea O War!
Weaponry worth knowing see,
Logic knowledge a must, now
Torp an enemy with blow
Seven matrix and row - four
Scatters over, under Sea,
penetrate their iron bow.
Diana draws her opal swans
Cross purple skies and bluer seas.
And Phoebus, not so far behind,
Pulls tight the reins of fiery steeds
And lets a blazing blink of sphere
Across the endless waving meads.
Incantations of an Entangled Pair
Third Draft
(c) 2025 by The Entangled Pair
It's after midnight where you are,
the show is done, the venue closed.
Four thousand miles away I read
these words that you have just composed.
"Just finished with the show now love,
I'll write to you when I get home."
And as I sit here by myself,
I'm feeling lonely, not alone.
"How can I ever truly be
alone?" I ask, as I sit here,
"When I am you as you are me,
two halves of one entangled pair."
So I respond, my heart aglow,
"Hello my love. I love you so,
as I await my queen's return!"
These feelings cause my soul to burn,
And open wide so to reveal
the you in me I can't conceal.
Sometimes it all seems so surreal:
A sentence passed with no appeal.
I breathe for you when you cannot
I sleep within the screaming thought
Of life and love and death and pain
For tears stream silent in the rain
A shadow lives where once was I
Despair hangs heavy in the sky
A chasm stretching without end
And silence is my only friend
In dreams I see your sunlit face
I promised you I’d keep the pace
But all that’s left when daylight breaks
Is empty mem’ries and faded fakes
When without you the sun hangs low
My heartbeat fades until it’s slow
A thudding drum inside my chest
In longing for eternal rest
There's a shepherd at my feet
And usually she's fast asleep.
Her eyes will open if I move
Because her love for me is deep.
My love for her I need to prove,
Fill her belly up with food,
Water in a bowl to drink,
Fields to run with skies of blue.
One day she'll go away, I think.
The pain will cause my heart to sink,
But I'll be glad I got to hear
Her little tags clack and clink.
To love and lose is the fear,
So I'll keep this shepherd near,
And prove my love for her is dear,
And prove my love for her is dear.
Headlines of irony in life…
Human satire—cuts like a knife.
The unsinkable ship, that sinks.
Surrounded by peeps, yet alone.
Priests who ‘prey’—yet sins they atone.
Pastor fights alcohol, but drinks.
Tax czar who cheats on his taxes.
Animal fans—hunt to relax.
Abortion kills—with nods and winks.
Lifeguard fearing water—lauds land.
‘Football’—a game played with the hands.
Oedipus—breaks riddle and Sphinx.
Headlines of irony in life...
“Women”—they may now take a wife.
The steakhouse owned by a vegan.
Pedophile daycare directors.
Homeless real estate inspectors.
WAR—‘politics’ by other means.
Fighting drugs, while promoting booze.
Mutual consent—the new ruse.
Prolonged charity squelches teens.
Green tinted speckles on bluefish.
Hitler’s Grandfather was Jewish!
Men—affectionately called ‘queens.’
In life, every nook and cranny,
Holds the next ‘headline irony.’
Good, bad, or sad—it’s Uncanny!
June 2, 2018
Written for Connor Lotts' poetry contest entitled, "Hutinashro - My First Contest Poetry Contest"
The bay was free for mine to gain
with weather mean of falling rain.
Then late inside a quaint cafe
our wine together we did share.
The streaks of gray in dame’s black hair
found shoulders low attractive way.
Her gray was no concern for me
as mine was same not gray-some free.
Our eyes met holding each to stay,
then knew this relationship brief
could lead to anguish great with grief.
From woman I should stay away.
This Dame owns a bakery
Her name is Marie De Curry,
Bread she now bakes, fresh ware to buy,
shop opens wide at break of day.
Best made bread sold on tray some say.
Earlier I’d bought loaf to try,
met Marie. liked mam’s fine jib frame.
With smiling teeth asked matron’s name.
Much so glad Marie wasn’t shy,
agreed to meet at Pietros place
Happiness shone on lovely face.
A premonition’s grief, but why?
It steals happiness leaving pain
This knowing I now dare not stay
Such heinous warnings I disdain.
5-14-18
Fall the leaves of the forest tho death has yet passed...
Unto moonlit shadows within crypts' hidden rot
Apparitions they say, where the innocent massed
Oh but lo! To the truth they are blind; it is naught
They're but fragmented feelings of love left aghast;
From her heart they were torn; bits he stabbed then forgot
Laid still, bloodied no longer to beat; darkness cast
The shadows cannot hide nor contain the scars wrought
Left to wander until retribution is brought
12/18/2017
As darkness takes our souls to hell
what has become of pleasant dreams
when death has tolled its final bell
no one remains to hear the screams.
Gwyllgi calls, the end is near
as demons dance across the land
their laughter chills a heart with fear
for fate has shown her evil hand.
Awash with blood to purify
the world of Man's eternal rage
no longer can our words deny
Gwyllgi's here to close our page.
And no demons shall rape and kill
for evil comes from Man's own will.
I chose to fight and not to flee,
From troubled feelings haunting me.
One look, within my weary soul,
Exposed an ever-gaping hole.
With introspective ink I write,
To bring foreclosure to my plight.
On form and meter I rely,
While keeping free verse standing by.
In healing cadence, new to me.
(Stagnation came from living free.)
A new persona will be found,
Before I leave this form-go-round.
Through sonnets, nonets, villanelle,
My metered fears I hope to quell.
Shall I find comfort in these forms
Or run back to my free verse norms?
I might be seeking, after all,
The haven of a hallowed hall.
Long known to poets of great worth,
And find therein my own re-birth.
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