Poetry

All selections © - All Rights Reserved

Previous . . . Home . . . Next

Long about the mist swept road
a goad is put to the flanks,
a travesty from heart rent times,
sublime to men of rank.

The lighthouse hovers into view,
anew the soul aspires
to find the strength sapped long ago
below the frothy spires.

His mount perceives a softer sound
abounding through the hills.
The rider cannot hear the notes
afloat throughout the chill.

When he arrives there at the core,
before the night goes clear,
a fanfare to meet him at the gate,
too late, he’ll never hear.

*

A widespread embarrassing nocturnal gait
all over the tidal wave heretics wait
to seek for the wastrel who never was late
to yearn for the kiss of the lass they called Kate

Away from the lantern light, foolishly grim,
she waits for another and wants only him.
Her skirts are embroidered, her waistline is trim
Her heart must lie empty, he’s not coming in.

*

Oho
you cannot fool me thus
against my better judgment, I’ll not let you pass
Misery lies in that direction
I should just leave you to it
but once a sucker always a sucker
I should, but I will not
take it for what it’s worth
with a grain of salt
too bad they’ll never see it
taste it
hear it
You’ll never cross the line

Previous . . . Home . . . Next