Trappings..
These are the persuaders
For the reign of separation..
Trappings appear
As words and stories
Memories and plans
Which are called home..
A home built on endless
Trappings..
Categories:
trappings, fantasy, freedom, language, words,
Form: Blank verse
There a space in thoughts that we can hide.
It's triggered by a word, an idea , a visual an action but none the less we to find refuge.
We use pride as a shield because we had someone ready to rip us apart at any given time. It's not arrogance its a barrier of protection.
Once the dust settles and the warfare is over do we relieve the unhable wall still stands. So used to being critiqued the ears raised like prey sensing being stalked. Even if the effect doesn't match the cause. The whirl wind sucks you back into a rotation. This can't be allowed anymore. Whether the ending could be turning into what's golden or not. What's there to lose regardless.
Categories:
trappings, deep, moving on, spiritual,
Form: Verse
A Gentleman's Trappings
Crisply pressed suits hang in a dark closet
Starched white shirts lie untouched in dresser drawers
Bland ties hang limply awaiting his touch
Highly shined black shoes and socks neatly arranged
These trappings of a gentleman gone to the grave
All waiting to be claimed by the Good Will thrift store
Copyright ©2008 Don Tyson
Categories:
trappings, culture,
Form: Free verse
It’s not what you put on
but what you take off
Each trapping a hangman
—and choking its cost
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
Categories:
trappings, inspiration,
Form: Rhyme
land of midnight sun having drinks with a grizzly my bearings are off
Categories:
trappings, adventure, allusion, animal, drink,
Form: Senryu
Trappings
Smoky bars
are my den of iniquity
not social
filled glasses
with conversational
immunity.
Stinky fumes
as my frequent
rolled papers
with cancer
And desperation
lament.
These smoky bars
are just the bees
in fact
you can walk right through them
if you please
but never passed
least not with ease.
Categories:
trappings, addiction,
Form: I do not know?
Limericks crochetés : All the trappings of the rough-neck cult
All the trappings of the rough-neck cult
Baby-faced blond Aryans exult
Under star-striped umbrella
State seal insignia
Some Dad yells « OUT », muscle-men catapult
Can SUN also set in the Wild West
Where the cash – the Man says – will come to rest
How many will share wealth
How many get free health
Deplete coffers for great job conquest ?
The tragic loss of a rising star
O ! Mark « Blond » face ! He’ll shine yet afar !
Blocked not by Destiny
But by peer fear envy :
Winsome mien sage’s ears passion galore !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
trappings, anti bullying, fear, freedom,
Form: Limerick
Trappings.
Flitting in,
and out,
of malls,
Scouring the aisles,
for more,
always for more,
walking,
undead,
through glittering halls.
Seeking out,
Luscious fabrics,
softest silk,
satin velvet,
crushed denim,
faux-fur,
trinkets and biscuits,
sleek gadgets,
that perfect shoe,
a must-have accessory,
cars, curtains, silver-ware,
gold time-pieces,
that stunning set of pearls,
as empty desire,
gleefully unfurls.
Piling onto,
heaving trolleys,
food,
and,
more food,
and yet more food,
to lighten the spirit,
to elevate the mood,
as countless starve,
a prime pot-roast,
of dead flesh,
we must carve.
Yet,
emptiness prevails,
as quaint notions,
of professed humility,
silently creep,
scurrying,
out the back,
while unquenchable need,
mutates, grows, pines,
it's insatiable hunger,
no longer able to feed.
The saga continues,
smiling faces,
lobotomised,
in the intoxicated haze,
with eyes shimmering,
through a toxic,
consumption-fueled,
trance-like glaze.
Trapped,
within the trappings,
of excess,
the undead,
waltz on,
oblivious,
to the torn consciences,
that have,
been so neatly,
so brutally,
shred.
Categories:
trappings, satire, social,
Form: I do not know?
how many of us are locked up somewhere &
it feels as if we will never be free?
how many assorted trappings comprise the world in
which we live? (so much so that it seems a cliché to even mention it)
and how many of us walk the earth
feeling as if the traps in which we ourselves are stuck
may never release us, as if these traps we have stepped in,
we have stepped in alone?
it doesn’t take much
to open the eyes when caught in a trap &
to look around at the struggles of others,
noticing that the traps you are in
cannot even compare to some of those around you---
while some may seem unfair to compare
(so easy it would seem for you yourself to get out of them),
some may seem clearly impossible to ever improve &
it leaves one with the wonder as to why there isn’t a much
higher suicide rate amongst us all---
but as fragile as we are as a species
we still keep on fighting,
if for lack of a better reason,
only to prove to ourselves that we can.
Categories:
trappings, life, may,
Form: Free verse