I saw the Four Horsemen -
the famous apocalypse guys.
They rode silently past neatly folded laundry,
They approached me in silence,
their breathe a rye and meadow wind.
Each of them in turn,
gliding ghostlike past where I sat,
watching steam on the mirror
grow cold.
War had no use for me,
past my prime, bum knee.
Not even as cannon fodder.
Famine had little to work with,
I had known hunger, want, poverty,
nothing he had could scare me.
Pestilence likewise dismissed me out of turn,
for which I’ll be forever grateful,
probably too sedentary to spread the touch.
And Death, well, we all must dance,
but today is not the day, now not the hour,
Death merely bid me good day.
And then they were gone, their vacancy tangible,
while I decided to look up embolisms or strokes,
trying to close this doorway into myself.
Until I saw the tracks in the talcum powder,
heard the soft whicker of horse,
and tasted their life on my tongue.
Categories:
whicker, allegory, death, fantasy, future,
Form: Free verse
You make me laugh
When you tickle my calf
Oh gosh you make me giggle
When you make up words like "swiggle"
You make me roar
When your every pair of sock have tore
You make me snicker
When you put on a hemlet of whicker
You make me realease peels of laughter
And we have our happily ever after.
Categories:
whicker, boyfriend, love,
Form: Rhyme
FIREFLIES IN DUSKS WANING LIGHT FLYING
THEIR GLOW CASTING OFF AN ETHEREAL LIGHT
EVENING MAGIC SHADOWS DANCING
A THOUSAND SHINING EYES A GLANCING
CASTING PALE GLOWS IN THE NIGHT
FAERIES CROONING ANIMALS DRAW NEAR
UNICORNS WANDER IN SHOWING NO FEAR
THEY WHICKER AND WHINNY TO THE FAE ALL AROUND
FOR NOW IS THE TIME THEY COME ABOVE GROUND
FOR NIGHT IS FOR THEM, MYTH AND LEGEND? NO!
THEY JUST WANT TO LIVE IN PEACE
WHERE NO PEOPLE GO
MAGIC ABOUNDS FAERY DUST ALL AROUND
DRAGONS LAY SLEEPING ON THE COOL EVENING GROUND
STIRRING UP LEAVES WITH THEIR BREATH WITH NO FIRE
THEY AWAKEN AND TAKE OFF, EACH MAJESTIC A FLYER
TO SOAR THROUGH THE CLOUDS UNTIL LIGHT COMES TOO SOON
WHEN MYTH AND LEGEND RETURN TO THE EARTHS COMFY WOMB
Categories:
whicker, fantasy, light, light, myth,
Form: Rhyme
I sit in this dark room and empty the soul I call mine
Into the void we call time
The void slowly sips it down, burning like hard liquor
Then hammers it down quicker and quicker
The cursed soul begins to burn and time now seems sicker
Until bursting into flames like a fine whicker
Burning bright through the black of night
His feelings lie, except in his weary eyes
Where no one looks, no one pries
Simply by disguising cries with laughs, by hiding behind broken smiles
If he wishes tomorrow won’t come, it always does fast
And when he wants tomorrow to last it will pass
Reminded of yesterday by the pain lingering today
Diminished to ashes and flashes of pictures burnt in
Seeing doesn’t mean your not blind
Because we all search for the thing we can’t find
So bind my hands, unstitch my lips
Take the last sips of curses
Because I’m done with these dark verses
Ash to ash, Dust to dust blown away in the silent hush
Categories:
whicker, song-dark, dark,
Form: I do not know?