Poetry Threat (well ok thread!) mark 2

[minim]

Synergy

June 06

[minim]

@Mr Amphibian wrote:

He shuffles through his lawn, now choked with weed
Dismayed that he has lived so long to see
His Babylonian wonders run to seed

The creeping shade of ash and willow tree
Once welcome refuge from the blaze of sun
Now beckons him to some far darker lea

With no respect for days when he was young
And strode this soil, commander of it’s fate, and his
The long hot summer just begun

So, breathless by the rust and paint scaled gate
Still clutching to the falshoods of the brave
In shadow-measured time begins his wait
For those who claim their purpose is to save
To lead him to the garden of his grave

wonderful imagery froggy

I wonder if he needs to borrow some weedkiller? :wink:

[minim]

Added spin

June 06

[minim]

@Mr Amphibian wrote:

:(

Nice.
8)

:)

[wilma]

Final Betrayal

I lied to you, I am so sorry,
We walk into here,
Your brown eyes plead with me,
They look sad, I know you fear

This place……..

My old, my faithful and trusting friend
The final betrayal – it’s kind!
The pain of this last unexpected decision
No time to leave or change our mind

Your bewildered frightened eyes
Say‘ what’s happening to me’?
I couldn’t tell you the truth nor tell lies
And I turned away so you couldn’t see

Is this being kind, but you can’t breathe,
So bad, you ‘re in pain
We can’t go home, nor leave
To have a walk in the rain

The needle entered slowly, this isn’t kind
We held you tightly and I so longed,
To scream ‘NO’ – I’ve changed my mind
Too late, my love, you were gone.

Was it wishful thinking or did I see,
Briefly, through a veil of tears
Of you,
Eyes bright,
Tail wagging,
Ears pricked
Running
Jumping
Through
Fields

‘I felt your pain and love you always’
Sleep my lovely…go to sleep….

[minim]

Oh wilma!

That is simply beautiful, my heart caught in my throat.

[Cymorill]

i told you it was good didnt i mims, :wink: wilma i hope that if you have more poems that you will share them with us. :D

[Cymorill]

it seems now that all the inspiration
has fled from my soul
as i struggle to write a few lines
maybe i have run out of things to say
or maybe it is because i am devoid
of any emotion that can be expressed
there is no love inside, no hate
just a vast empty space
have i found peace at last
or have i simply grown dispassionate.

[minim]

An absence of silence

Voices in the spaces between here and there,

.

[minim]

Picasso in relief

Sterile corridors, cool and ethereal

Open into stark rooms.

Walls play host to small strange images

As the worshippers gather

To whisper quiet eulogies.

With reverential eyes they peer closely

Then afar

Searching for some cryptic clue

To the workings of an artists mind.

Objects merge and flow or strike sharply

With simple lines.

Faces torn apart as broken mirror shards

Reflecting naked thoughts,

And themes are explored over and over

With subtle differences. To what end?

Eternally the worshippers muse and ponder, then

A Bather swims into view

And unexpectedly and from deep within a gurgle emerges

To explode

And ricochet from wall to hallowed wall.

For there in tones of grey and green

floats Bart with outstretched arms

and bare behind

above a random pair of breasts,

and in my mind I hear him cry

“eat my shorts”!

Laughter burbles out to scowls and frowns

From learned sorts who struggle to find

Reason for the juxtaposition

of such kindergarten vulgarity

In the work of their more than worthy god.

The hysteria deepens

Requires imperative retreat from startled rooms

Out into steamy Spanish heat.

For it’s as plain as the nose in your hair

That none of them can see the wonderful and

Delicious irony of it all.

July 06

[Author]

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