OH AUGUST!
"The best of summer is gone, and the new fall not yet born--the odd, uneven time of year." Sylvia Plath
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
time drips slow,
like honey from a summer hive.
days stretch like shadows,
dancing with death of summer’s embrace.
amber fields rustle,
their golden stalks heavy with grain.
air, thick with heat and scent of decay,
blooms that once flourished, now wither away.
sun hangs low, a reluctant king
crowned in sun’s afterglow.
cicadas hum their throaty tune,
a chorus of nostalgia in the dilatory heat.
evening sky,
a canvas of bruised twilight hues.
odd, uneven stretch of days,
a paradox wrapped in sun's shimmering haze.
time of harvest, an unsteady grace,
where joy and melancholy intertwine.
Oh August! Bittersweetness lingers,
for I know summer’s end is near.
Categories:
throaty, 12th grade, summer,
Form: Free verse
Such throaty timbres – oboes and bassoons –
such gowns! My Lady, apricot and plum,
her sleeves ablaze with blue October moons –
for one short night, her villa had become
the very essence of elysium!
To “fortify” us, as My Lady said,
against the winter tedium to come,
to banish melancholy, drive out dread,
she threw an Autumn Ball. Delirium!
We met the equinox with pipe and drum.
The quality of Florence all attended,
and never were Their Graces better fed!
The sun was up before our revels ended –
and Isabella? Still no thought of bed!
Three further galliards she’d yet to tread.
It seems I hear those trumpets even yet,
and taste the sweetmeats of that epic spread
(she’d plied us with light moscatel to whet
the palate) – I believe my mortal head
will throb for ever more, autumnal red!
Categories:
throaty, food,
Form: Quintain (Sicilian)
my peaks hard as tiny bells,
ringing out a seductive melody,
i swirl, a dervish of debauchery,
legs spread wide — calling,
a gilded gates of paradise,
beckoning ye to surrender
to the abyss of my desire.
my voice, a sonic tonic call,
warbles, a throaty come-hither all,
weaving a spell of meander,
as the crowd's frenzy reaches a fever pitch,
their sweat-slick fingers clawing at the air,
yearning to touch, to claim,
to possess the forbidden.
i am the mistress of the mating dance,
the high priestess of hedonism,
the seductress of the damned,
and they are my willing flock,
led to the slaughter of their inhibitions,
of their sanity, o their very psuche.
grin slashed across my countenance,
plush velvets of garnet blows a kiss,
place erupts in a fit of madness.
Categories:
throaty, beautiful, beauty, cute, deep,
Form: Free verse
The apex of a summer's age,
this month of August glows along.
Before she turns her final page,
her heart bursts forth in throaty song,
while sleepy days hang close and long.
July has spent its sparkling pace
and left behind its bright and strong
cascade of sunlight's beaming face...
as August's languid sighs replace
the hot and breathless days gone by,
and ease her through, with quiet grace,
along late summer's sapphire sky.
A song of August, mild and sweet,
shall sing a summer's soul complete.
Categories:
throaty, august,
Form: Sonnet
Weep with me
I hold my breath in
I won't let this free
There's no stilling this ache
That's inside of me
The grief and the pain
Rip away and break out
To flow like a stream
From my eyes and my mouth
A high, keening sob,
A deep, throaty sigh,
Escape with great force
And I finally Cry.
Categories:
throaty, cry, depression, emotions, grief,
Form: Rhyme
He hears again
the far-off jiggling of keys,
the throaty cough of ignition,
recalls strafing lights
on a night-blurred road.
Moths, like pale flowers,
crash against the windscreen.
Over-reaching branches
whip back and forth, warping
a transfixed retina.
A gritty sleet, then,
the bloodied head, the matted fur,
the flaying shanks;
a frozen shock laid bare.
Returning to the garage,
warm metal ticks,
he stares at a dark windscreen,
the dead
spread across his mind
still looking for a way out.
Categories:
throaty, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Tui opens his throat and sings
A beautiful sound that summer brings
Welling up from deep within his chest
Bursting forth his joy expressed
He begins at dawn with throaty trill
Greets the morn in unrestrained thrill
Singing all day with nary a care
Right until darkness in the still night air
The personification of freedom is he...
A lover of life living wild and free
Categories:
throaty, bird,
Form: Personification
The troublesome throaty explosion
For which demanded is handkerchief
That helps to hinder hell’s diffusion
By the thoughtless simple man or chief…
The oft-followed by a dragged-out gob
The owner sends straight to nearby soil:
What had tried to chesty freedom rob
And a whole day for sufferer spoils…
A scurrying for antibiotics
Or soon, the chest shall be again heaved:
Haphazard gestures of semiotics,
The jerkily thrown off guard retrieved…
The attacked with, first, expectorant:
Syrupy stuff that keeps it at bay;
For cough’s accursed cause a search warrant,
In one’s airways delightful free way…
Cough’s innocent picture throat-clearing
Yet, muffle for a laughter rearing…
Capsule of disguised danger warning
For one you wish to see, next morning…
Categories:
throaty, cry, fear, health, humanity,
Form: Rhyme
A thousand drummers playing drums
within my head,
like firecrackers bursting,
Rivers of (whatever) oozing out,
Trickling eyes, prickling nose,
Snee..achoo!..zing...and sneezing...and sneezing!
Every muscle aches,
Feeling fatigued and flushed,
Puffy eyes, stuffy nose,
Bouts of throaty cacophonies come out uninvoked ,
Body sore, mood sourer..
Even the bed seems uncomfortable,
Pain deludes, sleep eludes (snuffle!)
Inflamed glands fight ill-famed flu,
Tasteless food, faceless foe, endless distress,
Don't come near! This is contagious!
Life is drear, this is outrageous!
Eyes flowing, nose-blowing!
And I feel like...
Chasing this flu away.
9th Feb 2023
For Charles Messina's "I felt like" contest
Categories:
throaty, how i feel, sick,
Form: Free verse
OLD AND NEW 4 : CONTINUE TO SING
Sipping cold champagne in silver
cuff links at Thai restaurants
eating red curried prawns
while workers gape at
former leaders sold
Forlorn women starve
in naked hospital corridors
rulers drool in blue pools
with pink jewelled lovers
Rushing from airport to airport
bargaining for who knows
On plains of poverty children
whimper bony arms in
tattered sad sleeves
Slick smiles in linen jackets
mansions highly securitied
Ideals trickling through loamy soil
deep it will surely root anew
Waves upon waves descend
embracing hills with a roar
and throaty directions
to stop senseless hacking
Life rebirths from an unknown hole
Continue to softly sing simple
songs of freedom
exhale from a glittering axis
knowing sacred geometry
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1998
Categories:
throaty, 12th grade, africa, allegory,
Form: Political Verse
winter’s throaty drink
melts on the cockapoo’s tongue -
fresh ice cold blizzard
12/7/2022
Winter Nature Themed Haiku
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Categories:
throaty, snow,
Form: Haiku
Got Jack riding shotgun here,
Kerouac is reading some of his beat poetry
it kind of feels old school now,
but this is a first edition write
and he rocks it gently
on its heels
like a whispering Buddha.
Jack grins,
taps me on the shoulder:
"Hey man
you know where we're we going?"
I have to shout over the
throaty throb of the 1949 Hudson.
"To an auction house dude,
one day you're gonna be famous."
Jack lights another cigarette
closes his eyes
dreams of a distant country
that never arrives.
Categories:
throaty, poetry,
Form: Free verse
What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.
Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.
Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life and death.
Gullets gulp down then wide wings
swim on.
Indoor cats stare out of windows
as the heckling hunters tumble and dive
for shadows of silver iridescence.
Those engaged upon the land
hear the piratical calls of ocean winds,
the harsh and throaty feasting
above the seas rolling tongue.
A fishing village witnesses
this wild dance of catch and hide,
overhears that high cry above
the restless surf and spray;
and when the fishing boats return
they haul the harvest in.
Here under a shale roofed salty cottage
a portly house cat abides beside a tin dish
for its daily dine of scaly fish.
© 4 hours ago
Categories:
throaty, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Lawrence of Neasden,
Man of action in the past,
Reflected with dismay
How life had moved so fast.
So many years gone now
Since they’d gone to war
And Lawrence no longer
Rode his camel anymore.
It’s ashes rested in an urn
On the mantle shelf
Alongside its photo and
Those of Lawrence himself,
All dressed in style
In their combat gear
With others of the Corps
All paraded in the rear.
Sometimes it brought
Many tears to his eye
When he recalled
Their last fond goodbye
Before they’d all dispersed
Their duties well done
Secure in the knowledge of
A fine victory won.
There’s an empty space now
There in Lawrence’s carport
Where in the state of emergency
All the troops would report.
He can hear the harness jingle,
Hears those throaty roars,
Where in his mind Lawrence
Rides his camel once more.
Through the streets of Neasden.
If the breeze is just right,
Sometimes there’s a little jingle
In the stillness of the night
Is it the shade of Lawrence
Loyal to the very end
One last phantom patrol
Atop his faithful camel friend.
Categories:
throaty, dedication, emotions, leadership, memory,
Form: Rhyme
The jungle drums have throbbed in Neasden
The message has swiftly spread about
So if you’re travelling around the area
Its suggested you carefully watch out
For the call has been answered
The length and breadth of our fair land
Certain heroes not been found reticent
Back here at the nation’s command
It started with just our Lawrence
But his example aroused so many more
Now in the back streets of Neasden
Camps our own elite camel corps
The camel’s throaty braying
Out sounds morning cocks
And the borough has no need now
For any morning alarm clocks
They are dedicated veterans
Fierce warriors to a man
All there craving for action
Since this campaign began
It’s a sight of heart stopping beauty
A hundred and thirty camels smart and neat
All drawn up in parade order
Down the whole length of our street
The nation owes it all to Lawrence
Who without any idle flaunting
Knew just where his duty lay
And was not found wanting
The jungle drums have throbbed in Neasden
The message has swiftly spread about
So if you’re travelling around the area
Its suggested you carefully watch out
Categories:
throaty, adventure, dedication, destiny, hero,
Form: Rhyme
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