27-A Wimpole Street   
We don't find poetry. Poetry finds us. We don't produce poetry. Poetry creates us. But poetry can only exist if it is written and shared. That is why we write and speak.

Straddling the 20th and 21st centuries, poetically incorrect but deeply smitten by the power of words and the beauty of human imagination. Come & let us seek poetry in everything we see and encounter!

Please feel free to visit my Twitter & Pinterest accounts: crypticbard and Facebook: poet galateus.
raucous blether @ crypticbard.blogspot.com/
________________________

Many thanks to those that support my Muse.
We don't find poetry. Poetry finds us. We don't produce poetry. Poetry creates us. But poetry can only exist if it is written and shared. That is why we write and speak.

Straddling the 20th and 21st centuries, poetically incorrect but deeply smitten by the power of words and the beauty of human imagination. Come & let us seek poetry in everything we see and encounter!

Please feel free to visit my Twitter & Pinterest accounts: crypticbard and Facebook: poet galateus.
raucous blether @ crypticbard.blogspot.com/
________________________

Many thanks to those that support my Muse.

How fickle the adoring public,
From age to age, from era to era...
May you never be found in error;
else find yourself a lynching terror!

A thought on the ever changing tide of popularity.
  Reposted by Frederick Kesner  ·  3 days ago
Elizabeth Squires

magpie's liquid caramel calls plied
through the village school's grounds

You've worked on your summer body in the winter,
Now you wonder its worth as dreams fade and wither.
As autumn nears, your landscape begins to change colour:
Where is this promise that once offered us forever?

Frederick Kesner
Frederick Kesner
3 days ago      3 days ago

Another month, another chapter.
We're all seeking happily ever after.
And yet a silent realisation dawns
Happiness is here in our front lawns...

Of course, not everyone has a front lawn...
Frederick Kesner
Frederick Kesner
May 17      May 17

When will the lights illumine the evening sky?

In the distance the lanterns are lighting up like fireflies...

They wink and dance, making this stranger's arrival less bleak.

Perhaps they shall hasten before the monsoon begins.

'

warmth envelops,
dissolving the
bustle and noise:
liquid stillness
offers but a momentary
tranquil once-upon-a-time;
it is so easy to
drift off and forget

here, the watery balm
soothes celiac rashes,
a moment's reprieve
that shuts out reality,
provides sombre retreat...
cares float away
until unwanted thoughts
stray with blistered report.

It is quite possible,
through bolted locks,
to be a victim
of home invasion,
for someone to play
Corday to one's Marat--
a hapless victim, stabbed
at home, in one's bath.



'

Originally entitled "Jacobine Paranoia.'  A historically based poem drawing from the fatal stabbing of Marat in his bath.
#poem   #poetry   #bath   #historical   #marat  
Frederick Kesner
Frederick Kesner
Mar 24      Mar 25

Howling, whistling, blowing wind;
Relentless, unforgiving--
Off comes my face,
Peeling in fierce disgrace.
When will you see
You've always had the real me?
This storm, it seems, 
Shall never cease.

#life   #dark   #lostlove  
 
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