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Fred Mcilmoyle Poem
Drudge-soaked dawn sneers
Down on grimy streets.
Smoke stacks belch out gloom
On scuffed, reluctant feet.
Brick-built boxes – Crammed rows
Of uniformity
Each day discharge
Their cargo of humanity.
Dreams – sucked dry !
Shrivelled blooms in barren air
Poverty rules here
Chastising all who dare
To stretch for the sun
Or clutch a rung on the ladder
Back to sanity
Yet still we strive
To keep hope’s spark alive
To see our dreams
Reborn in children’s eyes –
That human theme,
Transcending trivial vanity.
Its loss undoubtedly
The ultimate profanity !
Copyright © Fred Mcilmoyle | Year Posted 2012
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Fred Mcilmoyle Poem
Two brown carrier bags - that`s all she had !
One bore the remnants of yesterday`s dreams,
The other a store of today`s necessities.
I thought it sad, and watched awhile.
She turned and caught my eye.
Trapped ! I tried to smile - to comprehend
What tortuous path had led her here ?
Where were those who should be near
To ease her anguished years ?
She shuffled towards me,
Tattered trainers, bandage bound,
Grasped my hand in both of hers.
Instinctively I stiffened,
Then unwound and listened,
Captured by her words:
“Don`t grieve for what you think you see,
This is just a shadow of the girl I used to be.
Look into my eyes and see reflected there
A past that dulls the pain through days of care".
Copyright © Fred Mcilmoyle | Year Posted 2011
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Fred Mcilmoyle Poem
Snow flake wisps in random flurries
Waft through he moon’s eternal flow.
Lengthened shadowy figures linger,
Hot breath stilled in the streetlamp's glow,
Embracing there in the street below.
The winters moon, caught slyly peeping
Coyly draws her sheltering screen of
Flimsy gossamer clouds around her,
Shielding sad eyes from this worldly scene.
Shimmering crystal crackling sidewalks
Mirror the sea of twinkling stars
As stumbling, mumbling long-time losers
Forced from their haunts in local bars
Seek kindred souls for the lonely hours
Cherished images return to greet me
Faces etched in seamless time
There through the snowflakes resurrected
From hallowed chambers in my mind,
Those whose lives once fused with mine
Copyright © Fred Mcilmoyle | Year Posted 2011
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Fred Mcilmoyle Poem
So - you’ve written a poem you say, after reading mine,
Not so easy - is it?
- oh! You’ve written yours in rhyme.
Um! that forms considered just a bit old fashioned now
Ah!- you’ve let your feelings enter in - oh no! -
let me show you how.
You choose an obscure, abstract theme,
one few out there will understand:
say the philosophy of Kant
or a few lines from the Koran.
Never set a rhythmic flow,
make sure the words collide.
Avoid the telling metaphor
or anything personified,
That’s much much too clear - they might understand.
You have to be original you know,
more intellectual and abstruse
Toss in a foreign phrases or two
that usually cooks their goose.
Try to split the meter up
- alter the length of lines
shape your poem like a pyramid,
or some other symbolic sign.
Never tell them what it means!
There’s sure to be a Judas goat
who wants to appear intelligent
Remember the Emperor’s invisible coat!
Copyright © Fred Mcilmoyle | Year Posted 2011
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