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Mark Taylor Poem
Once again i'm alone
searching within to find my strength
my light of passage has not been shone
traveling congested roads at great length
my people's always seem to miss the boat
waiting for monatary arms to embrace forseen love
i'm left to the solitude of hands to keep me afloat
like the symbolic dove
i bring love, peace, and a message
difficult to decipher from a spilt tounge
this prescription requires wisdom to be taken in small dosage
I ask from what tree is the virtue of a woman hung?
as seen with my eyes and felt with my heart
i have crossed many black cats and still have not found my counterpart.
who am I?
written for the contest sponsored by SKAT A "Guess who? Who am I? What am I?"
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2016
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Mark Taylor Poem
the white man's burden
cultivates Afrika’s roots
a caged mind unbarred
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Taylor Poem
as the wind blows south
the poplar tree saps black blood
soaked are roots with pride
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Taylor Poem
what makes the heart feel for something it can't touch?
his tears caused contractions for his heart to pulse
floundered, looking for loves heartache to clutch
whimsical solace of her essence startles his impulse
shouldering the bane of a kiss that foreshadowed trifles
kooky huh? how time unleashes emotions restrained behind pride
losing his beloved inamorata to an admirer she mollycoddles
his heart became friable to the echo of her suicide
It was the absence of a note that left his worries unverified
what makes the heart feel for something it can't touch?
Now alone and without; a lovers heart is mummified
he will never love another as much
the “ghost orchid” has become her epithet
the rules of this game have changed, misère ouverte.
I chose Bonnie Raitt “I can't make you love me” because when I listened to it it brought
back memories of my childhood feeling second to my fathers work. His physical presence was
always their, but his heart belonged to his work and still is. After listening to the song 5 or 6
times I thought of the question, what makes the heart feel for something that it can't
touch----like love, and went from there.
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Taylor Poem
A simple poem of time that test the time of rhyme
ok lets begin
it starts with a blow of wow
and a kiss of ahhhhh….
an unfamiliar sense of originality
and a familiar tone of humility
the writing of words must resemble meaning
inspire zones inside you
and lose the texture of sound
pure to the ear as truth
your answer to the question has been found.
a simple poem of time that test the time of rhyme
a King
withdrawn from his creator
destined to be forgotten
inhales the waft of complacency
omit
smile
laugh
vagabond
traveling to be alone
i have lost myself
inside myself
where has she gone
her secrets are inexhaustible
call her by one name only...
Time
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2016
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Mark Taylor Poem
imperial evil rings the rebellions bell
and awakens the rebels fight
allow for a new tomorrow
a skywalker will be in plain sight
his mind as sharp and committed
as the nail that split the force
a parasite of the night are we
the padawan has chosen his course!
BY Mark Taylor: ......Star Wars......
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Taylor Poem
Witnessing the extraordinary commands a special type of eye.
A boundless saffronic type with cavernous titanium hues
and puce, indigo, sapphires will only scratch the cornea.
You must teleport to the moon of Floria and ask the moon there
to barrow a shooting star of brilliant vermillion coated with sparkling emerald, tangerine, bistre dust apply it to the retina and
still, even then, it's not entirely easy.
The moon must first have seashell tone ears of momentum,
choose to listen to you, and believe that you believe that
the unbelievable can be perceived. Good Fortune and Pleasurable Dreams!
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2016
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Mark Taylor Poem
tears fall from the eyes of a broken soul
lost without her mate of choice the shrunken soul
ask for the truth of the lie to be revealed.
From beyond, the Sufi whispers to the forsaken soul
frantic like a child without bottle
she to the machine has become the token soul.
Asked if her pride could bear the truth behind lies
she questioned the worth of pride to a stricken soul
and prepared to swallow the pill of truth.
summoning the mauve star of the Aladdin soul
truth blinded her eye and buckled her knee
causing her tongue to cleanse her awaken soul.
All has become enlighten to this new humble spirit
while I, Taylor, splinter an impious dormant African soul !
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Taylor Poem
It all began with both parties arranged even and still
with nothing more challenging ahead of them than options
a thought was made that provoked the other to take precaution
one thing was for certain this was a game for the kill
with both sides equally opposed to the others tenacious will
attacks and counterattacks in this battle of attrition
proved that a real masterminds plot was coming to fruition
so realizing a mountain out of a mole hill
the desperate and calculated summoned a queen
jarred from her throne and backed by worthy bishops
a prayer was conjured requiring deception to be precise.
In this game of will, skill, and calculation all has now been foreseen
the time has come there’s nowhere to run; oops i meant no backups!
say good night to your dear sweet queen..haha!...wait; what, Boden’s mate? Queen sacrifice!!!?
about the poem: i originally wrote this for a poetrysoup member contest, but the contest was taken down before i could post it so here it is anyway. Boden's mate is a chess term, where the opponet is checkmated in such a way that usually requires a major sacrifice by the performer of the checkmate. You can google it for futher details. Thank you for reading and please share your comments good or bad they are very much welcomed! Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2015
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Mark Taylor Poem
Through the peep hole of Egyptian darkness shackled by conquerors hypnotic scheme
awaits the incarnate spirit of Ra.
Summoned to defend the skies of eternity and the land of death
against the traitors to the throne of the sun god
peace in these savage times shall be your curse.
may your conscience be your pillow
and your wretched hearts your lullaby
you and your puppet slaves will never tame this mane.
there is nothing your lassos can suppress
your skin of deception your pillars of lies and halls of betrayal
will fall to the hum of my dynastic roar
I am the truth the originator of galactic time
your presence was my flatulent secretion
your death will be my orgasmic sigh.
Women of gaze that by-stand my struggle
fan as you may your perfumed air
it is your heart my canines seek
your tongue has collapsed my rump
and stolen my corner stone
may your blood from my mandible spell
Traitor!
written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest, Ancient Egypt.
Copyright © Mark Taylor | Year Posted 2013
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