Wools Poems

Skyfall

it twas evereth the 14th 
and ladle had stilled consequence
perceptive decorum and froth's
constable would, could naught
cold heart and battled fart
bequeath to thee
a brothersome free
door and locksey 
leashed a board in mercy
a wait, as bait, beside boyhood fate
to undress against
shallowed peasant
four returned to Ireland
bedside and tired
blankets paging in grass
ant's weary temperment at gas
a home a key
a star left he
the all might and his coward
to run the knights
round to Britain
i and i only minors scribes
have told in telling
of poor bottoms swelling


I'm the cells cavern
An orchestrated advance 
The corridor the call 
The snip the fall
Interior design in might
Out of castled walls flight
Terror in known streets
Publication and ceremony in defeat
They will have had we Rome
And no thing at door 
Battle as framers wools

The third wall of a fine ants parish
Forward the Chinese admiral

The Last Trees in Slab City

who remembers trees

when air was free from fares
    guiltless
    tankless
    unassailable

cliches of rustling leaves
enchanted forests
infanticidal practices like nestling newborns atop boughs
cordate declarations etched beneath oak bark and canary sashes 
as dead as concrete blocks

and the nearest approximation is a toy broccoli flower

wire wools welded for steel topiaries 
laud the arboreal knights
growing figments stalking the future 
with whom was shared breath and hearth
in Slab City

On the day of daughters

If in love to wife desire’s rife,
And to son there seems ambition,
To daughters, tranquil run waters. 

If she may outgrow father’s lap,
She always stays within heart’s map,
Distance may grow, gulf there’s, nor gap. 

A daughter is like a rainbow,
A lifelong source that gets to grow,
A spectrum’s widest range to draw.

Warmer is she than warmest wools,
Let she be ward of what so schools,
More precious she’s than priceless jewels.

And angel sent down from heaven,
Lost I’d long years back such a one,
To gain, thank heavens, once again.  
_________________________
Tercet |29.09.2024|daughter

Planting Seeds

leaves in trembling hues of bronze and gold, fall gently to the earth, where they’ll leave a carpet of crunching truths, blessings in beautiful ~ by poet

walking in silence, on the edge of twilight
subtle sighs, singing, stirring serenity
remembering the joy found on a still night

autumn’s descant, hints at my identity
blazing grace, richest praise in pastoral pulls
perfect hope in breaths of fall’s amenity

planting seeds of grace as we don our soft wools
while harvest reveals what colors hearts gentle
in aching arms, gathering crops in handfuls

blazing leaves, tremble and praise, sentimental
erasing the tears from souls mourning summer
fall’s splendor is hardly temperamental 

oaks rest where majesty is the newcomer
falling in shadows who truly become her

Rain of Glowing Angels

if it wasn't for the fact I would be dead
in less than a minute, I would always be in awe
at the sight of a thousand fire-tipped arrows
arching and downing like fireflies in sparkled warmth
lit like stars against the night sky

I never tired of such a sight
I…

then I died
again

as ever, life up to that point held harshness 
in my trappings, my prison of wild openness, 
the hills, the grasslands of my people, thatching roofs
and weaving wools, making bread and raking soils
a day singing to the backdrop of hammering
from the smiths, these scenes so familiar
these days, always days

then the baron's called as they usually did about now
and men took arms, heading into the tunnel
and with many of my folk
I would die under an intoxicating rain
of glowing angels

Love and Lust

Show me a man, not engulfed in lust before love
Nor in the beginning craved her enchanting groove
Then I will show you a liar
As the burning wools, enliven the pride of a cooking stove
So inevitably depends on lust, your holy love
When your heart melt by her gracious sight
From his mantle a sweet seltzer you sip tonight
And both sirens screams with passion
In the end love is praised and lust, blamed
As with negativity, lust is framed
Oh! Dear lust, I shan't merry without you, nor ever love
Even a platonic desire can't undermine your fire
But if this puzzle be hard to solve
Remove lust and watch love dissolve.

Reserata Carcerem Liv

A torn tale ere was sewn b' time's tool;
''f haggard hemisphere 'n' nocturnal nude,
'n which porous promiscuity 's oft draped -
furred fabrics, scales embroidery.

This tale 'n which cursed clothing was hexed;
porous past oozing sassy spell.
Makes marred maidens scarce behove laud,
but fractured flaunts cum odds grilled galls.

Tell those who 'gain sew this torn tale,
that nosy needle anon 'll break,
'n' sewn sanity would foster pawn
''f bruised beauties, gaunt graces 'n' plagued pores.

Let throbbing themes ''f this taunting tale
'n' wools ''f sewn silk canvas wits, fame 'n' shame.
          '20:07:23:13:41

Note:
a) Of fractured fashion.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Ere - before
ii) oft - often
iii) Hexed - cast spell
iv) behove - suit
v) cum - and
vi) galls - biles
vii) anon - soon
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) b' - by
ii) "f - of
iii) 'n' - and
iv) 'n - in
v) 's - is
vi) 'll - will

Lustful Youth

LUSTFUL YOUTH

The world is filled with vanities

The lust of the eyes and flesh in entirety

Behold how the great and mighty has fallen

Because of beautiful maidens



The daughters of Jezebel have been equipped

To strip every man his pedigree

Our youth have fallen victims

Just for a night fling



Youths who ought to be roofs to nation’s building

Are now nothing, but fools in area meetings

Unlike wools made ultimately for knitting



The youth has lost their place in divine space

And they have also relocated from Heaven’s gate

Awaiting the choice of fate



Masters has been reduced to servants

Heirs have lost their place with their father

Why waste thy years

And tomorrow be in tears

In the name of wordily enjoyments



Why sell your tomorrow?

In order to live for today

When will you answer the call of the creator?

Turn, from your lustful desires

The word of God is all you truly require

For eternal life and peace in paradise

The Gold Leaf Kiss

She surrenders her all oranges and apples
To his crimson basket of throbbing warmth
To let her caves dance in a downpour
And cloak her snowflakes in wools of love

They are like two entwined trees
Against an embroidered slice of love-wall
Let me fission in scarlet grains
She said amidst the scented rains

The hands that hold you are writing poetry
All my fireflies in a blossoming spree
My cheeks soaking up the vapors of your red cells
My eyes are closed to retain the kisses

The blue green and white flowers
From your breath on my pulsating red hair
Gustav Klimt once made us immortal
In his deathless The Kiss

Such gladioli of love rarely bloomed
Very few rooms enjoyed such collapse
Such gold leaf glitter seldom shone
To shape out the lip-locked lovers


4 December, 2017
For Klimt - Poetry Contest sponsored by 
Anthony Slausen

When Will Reason Return

It began with no clothes at all
When mankind heard natures call
But fig leaves began to cover parts
As modesty formed within their hearts.

Finally, shirts and skirts were worn
With beards and haircuts neatly shorn
Itchy wools began to oppress
Fashion evolved, toward undress.

Minis came showing every space
As fashion fought to find its place
So, now we have been forced to dress
In clothes that mirror much distress.

Torn tattered jeans with ragged holes
Mismatched with skimpy camisoles
We dress for work with tees and flops
And stupid sayings on our tops.

I wonder will reason e’re return
With taste and dignity, I yearn
For us to think before we dress
And not look like we are homeless!

Wool

She is a wool,
so fluffy and comforting,
a living teddy bear of wool.
on her, i lay my head and sleep,
a queen in the kingdom of wools and comfort.

Gift

Gift

Lengthy wires
Wind around the feet
Of those who will not see
And the muffled voices
Of the friends
Pound at those who refuse to listen
The flashlights are omni-bright
Fluorescent to those who shut their eyes
Or will not speak, the microphone
Who shall not touch, the silks, the wools
And to those who will not pay
After today
Are given tomorrows.

First Day of Spring

Today is spring and here’s the thing – 
It seems to play the part.
The weather’s slightly warmer
And it’s sunny – that’s a start.

Some buds have poked up from the soil
And birds have started singing.
I ditched my scarf and hat
But to my turtlenecks, I’m clinging.

For I am not the trusting sort
And spring’s a fickle season.
Tomorrow may be cold again – 
There is no rhyme or reason.

So though we all should welcome spring
And hope it’s here for good,
Before I pack my wools away,
I think I’ll knock on wood.

Load

Load…
Pure caprices are moral thing.
China tyranny all are sins.
Come to sing are whistles cases.
Drives with forces are men with maces.

Sheer as wools are wolves with coats.
Tubs to thumps are cameras loaded.
Tuck in all are govern needs.
Tyrants’ forces spoiled our seeds.
 
Seek our dirty bosses as due.
China tyrants are bad for uses.
Soft despotic cheat our life.
Bad are army fields and lines.

Balsam trees are fragrant trees.
Better men are good to see.
Files are bursts are putsches are boots.
China laws are raw are rude.

Load our baggage all are faith.
Heaven comes are gods to date.
Money ranks are bribe are swine.
Taiwan songs are nature high.
----------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3-----------------

Tease Me No More

Resting serene within your shadow’s splendor 
Yet jealous of the suns for cuddling with the beauty of your smile,

Wishing to embrace your warmth as the wools you wear
Yearning to taste the tabooed beneath your perfumes & undergarments, 

Your caramel skin completely completing your bronzed eyes
Almost as astonishing as the way your silky locks defy gravity continuously riding winds,

Teeming of lust my eyes wish to part ways with your perfection
Yet my mind would shatter at the thought of you teasing my imagination

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