“K here! I have come to cheer up your night
dear maiden, silent beauty, as you rest.
A once dull eve is now a gallant knight.”
“W here! From you, this knight, I’ll wrest. “
“K won’t allow what is to be to not…
be. In a jiffy you will wear my ring.
Verily, we two will soon tie the knot.”
Will W from glad, the sadness wring?
K says, “W vexes – what is new –
but he will never stop the marriage rite”.
You’ll have a happy ending as you knew.
(That’s just the kind of poetry I “write”.)
W to Miss H, eleventh hour:
“Call me ‘Dub’”, for this wedding will be ours.
It vexes, embarrasses, harasses
without regard for consequences
Hearken, my friend: If a parrot’s rant you’ve heard
Tuck it tightly 'neath your wing
Else you’re no better than the blasted thing
It vexes me
I toss and turn
I cannot find the words to describe the beauty in sight
For I am a humble man of ink
New words have to be created to describe the fraction of the beauty that you are
But alas I do not hold such power
For I would have created a whole library
Just to describe your beauty, my love
Forgive me my love
For I cannot describe your beauty to the unfortunate who didn't see you
Else the Emperors would have cried and gave you their empires
Just for you to be at their funeral pyres
Some say Aphrodite cried the day the Titan made you
It broke her, it made her irate
She punished the Titan severe
But the Titan was rhapsodic for he knew he bested her
And so you came into this world
Amongst the quarrel of the Gods
Like a ray of light
In my empty life
A papoose with a twin is papooses,
Double goose and get geese, but not gooses.
Pluralizing perplexes me,
Aggravates me, and vexes me,
And I suspect that it checks my creative juices.
sold my crux for poetic flux
to an immortal husk in a tux,
his musk was of the set dusk,
waft of an abattoir in the sun.
he ton of tone and run,
poetic stun gun and it's so fun,
coaxing to come as we begun,
this everyday smoke show pun.
all crossroads hex in texas,
misses of the vexes voodoo temptress,
dyslexic he continues his flex,
till I twist him like a pop - breaking his neck.
mex wicka wick a candle lit
to submit his payment with spirit -
definite light emits a dreamt cadence,
where his limbs go limp in menstruation.
lips stick press to succulent a test,
hollow nostril breath as lipstick vortices,
rousing muses coos in this faded faze
of alumni haze - as I maze his days away.
They once did a study that perplexes,
Making sure to sample both the sexes.
The av'rage sir or madam,
The stats declare each had 'em
One boob, one nut - a result that vexes.
The gigglemug she’s wearing
so vexes me, I want to
give her a knuckle sandwich
through her big white teeth
Enciphered heart, yet unread –
Hope, a promise yet unsaid –
Us, a race that’s yet to run –
Her, a puzzle yet undone –
She’s a thought I can’t pin down,
Not adjective, verb or noun.
Her enigma vexes me –
No solution can I see.
She’s a riddle yet to solve
Round whom all my thoughts revolve.
I decode her text? Not yet.
I’ve still not that challenge met.
I unlock her secrets will,
Though their key eludes me still.
Open she’ll her heart to me…
Just give me eternity.
Written on May 14, 2023 for the “Write A Jueju-Qijue Poetry Contest” sponsored by Emile Pinet
Somewhere inside Big Red is her body.
A shield against winter drafts and cold
It covers her delectables and wraps her delights.
I hate it.
Its artificial fur vexes my skin and hides her from me.
But I know, inside that unnatural mantle is her body.
MMMMM OK.
The hordes of defection await
Obscurity indulges their silence
Abruptly, I am lost within my own recollection
Feverishly trying other hearts
My brain seizes its choler
It bathes in the solace of grief
Disgruntled, I await ambition
Deciphering each notion, towards alienation
The separated seconds loathe me
I fall between my somber thoughts
Deserted, my will vexes me
As I tumble into oblivion
I am at a loss of words and will--
This silence drifts into my mind
I conjure a pool of empathy
[Pretending that I am no different]
My demons bathe under my skin
For, my heart is their tyrant--
I am persecuted by my vacant will
With-held from my embittered perception...
Why ,when I'm in the bathroom do I hear my cellphone ring?
This question always vexes me above so many things.
And when I go to answer it, my towel drops to the floor
much to the horror of the bus queue just outside my door.
For contest 'Unanswered questions', sponsor Juli- Michelle
December 4th, 2017
Harmonious co-existence vexes as
Ugliness of spirit overrides all sense:
Man, woman, young, old - locked in constant conflict.
Antagonistic leanings destructive, but
Nations are split by doctrine more than terrain;
Isolated, insular and self-serving.
Tempestuous relationships reign supreme;
Yawning chasm between status quo and potence.
Halcyon adventures wait amongst the stars:
Unite, Peoples of Earth... and ascend as one.
Majesty of universe lies before us,
Architects, wholly, of our own destiny.
Negative acts consigned to history books;
Inherent self-destructive urges shunned by
Transcending schisms and grasping conjoined purpose.
Years uncounted may pass, but faith shall be pursed*.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* pursed = rewarded
11 syllables on every line - checked with howmanysllables.com
14 November 2017 - my first Acrostic poem.
For the "Humanity - Acrostic" contest, sponsored by John Hamilton.
(2nd Place)
There she sits pristine and demure
catching the center of mine eye
within a glint of thoughts impure
my breath exhales a forlorn sigh
Beyond few others to compare
a Duchess - far from being trite
I can not help but sit and stare
yearning her face to ingrain sight
Holds herself well, so full of grace
strong - yet passionate - her aura
illumines with her smiling face
long to bathe her in rose flora
I pine to be enwrapped amid
her eyes and silky golden locks
the thought leaves me feeling sordid
must keep inside Pandora's box
Glides across the floor with such ease
her scent it does intoxicate
penultimate sense which to please
never so much to satiate
Penult - there's one more important
her touch - which I will never know
no frets - I'm not a psychophant
with dreams of her 'round my pillow
A mere man who appreciates
the beauty that she possesses
one who just wants to demonstrate
the spell she has cast that vexes
There's no ulterior motive
for me penning these words on down
I know they aren't really pensive
nor fit for this Queen as a crown
Above, the blushing blood moon vexes silken ebon space
with shadows in the mournful mist recalling, pale, a wistful trace -
her farewell smile I viewed through tears that almost veiled her face -
she turned her head and whispered low 'another time, another place...'
So many people around the world
living a life of their own
there are good doers and then there are evil doers
there are rich and then there are poor
But what vexes me most is the way of life
Rich, content with all the possession
but still treating wealth like an obsession
Poor, no wealth at their disposal
but still living life like there's no control
What is freedom after all?
To the child of the poor, did sorrow ever befall?
Is there happiness at all?
To the child of the rich, no toy ever contents, I hear!
With a smile on his face, the poor farmer ploughs the land
With a frown on his face, the rich man picks a briefcase in his hand
With a joy in his heart, the poor farmer serves the bread
With a grief in his heart, the rich man sleeps alone in bed
But what vexes me most is the way of life
Rich, content with all the possession
but still treating wealth like an obsession
Poor, no wealth at their disposal
but still living life like there's no control
...still living life like there's no control!
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