Fantasy.  Take a second look.  This is literally one angle on the only fiance I've ever had.  No joke.  Mebbe see the sonnet titled "why did you hafta die?" next?

(sonnet # DCCCXXV)

We skidded round the corner and the p'lice
Were in our face.  "Oh boy, we're out of space
Babe--just be brave, we're gonna win.  Disgrace
Will keep them on our case 'til we decrease
Those bastards.  'Til they skulk and beg for peace.
Now hang on tight"--(shifts in reverse)--"and brace
Yourself"--(tires squealing loudly)--"we'll retrace--
It might be hard--hold on--don't drop your piece!"
We ducked our heads, careening blythely through
A blockade, sending cars flying everywhere.
Out on the open road 'gain finally, too
Alert to miss a beat--"Get ready!  Ere
You see them--fire!  This is our rendezvous--"
We won at six.  He's now their head.  Take care.


*Original intro:  Jesse (a friend and fellow online poet at the since extinct's comment on "At 6AM...on Saturday" (the sonnets immediately preceding this number) prompted this. [pure fantasy]  Obviously I can't get Hollywood to hire me. But it was jolly good fun to write.

How sad it is to ail in the spring,
To feel amid the blooming your decline,
To feel a shiver rattle down your spine
While sunshine pours and singing birds take wing.
Sickness should be a frigid, winter thing,—
A quarantined repose of cold repine
That's bordered on both sides, with strict confine,
By green delight and wealthy harvesting;
For sickness fits in spring like rain in shine.
And never more does sickness have a sting
Than when all nature seems to bloom and sing
With such a cheer as seems a joy divine.
And never more does care to illness cling
Than when the bloom is fresh upon the vine.

Mar 19

I was always told by my mother,
That love is lust, and everyone can relate.
That to love is now meaningless and a bother,
It is that one thing that drive mankind to hate.
I know now what she...was saying all of these years,
Love is a burden that we all have to carry as humans.
All of the griefs , sorrows and fears,
Made us draw back into the shadows like demons.
Love, what is that, and why for it we care?
Is it that thing we use as an excuse to hurt each other,
Or is it the thing that make us feel rare ?
Love on my part make us so crazy that we can't even trust each other.
I know, deceiving, disloyal and unfaithful,
It is the mother of everything I know to be shameful.

Jonesy 2017 ©

My new collection : A conversation among broken hearts.
Pete King
Pete King
5 days ago

Let's not beat around the bush; getting drunk is fun.
However, that all depends on why you’re doing so.
Last week I drank to try and make brain going numb,
In hopes that Tesco Value lager would turn my heart to stone.
Love can hurt like hell when it’s trapped behind your eyes,
Out of fear that someone’s narrative may not involve you.
You swallow the truth, lock your jaw, make sure your tongue is tied.
The words stay stuck upon your lips - no guts to come to bloom
Love isn’t fucking Disney and it sure as hell isn’t perfect;
But when the smoke clears all I see is you, is you, is you.
And falling into pieces a thousand times would so be worth it;
If that's what it takes for a happy ending, then that is what I'll do.
     My love for you is imperfect, flawed; it has to stay concealed.
     My love for you is imperfect, sure - but fucking hell it's real.

#love   #drunk   #alcohol   #sonnet   #romance   #rhythmic  
Pete King
Pete King
7 days ago

The greatest gift, yet biggest burden of mine
Is that I overthink; with no control nor choice.
A damaged, frantic mind over-working overtime
A creative heart trying to sing above the noise.
I hide this racket where the world can't see
And for dear life I cling on to the clouds.
Scared to lose grip, because what would I be
If let slip and dared touch the ground?
But then I met you; I felt my mind fall silent.
No noise I've come to fear inside my head
Every time I'm with you, my thoughts aren't so violent;
They’re filled with lyrics to a thousand love songs instead.
     If the words stay trapped behind my lips, there's still a chance maybe
     That you'll come across this poem and that's good enough for me.

RL Glassman
RL Glassman
7 days ago

A waltz, I dance, delightful
A second or so in song
A duet, I dance in nightfall
The Music plays on and on...

A smiles grows fast, inching
On careful and gentle mouth
Spin me, turning, falling
Oh, dare I say I laugh!

The memory lasts lifetimes
The moment lived just one
Alone I dance a duet
I Waltz with no one!

Hold me nearer, close
Music in my ears
I remember not how long it lasted
Months, minutes, years!

Listen to the voices playing
A skip in my flighty heart
I can't, I can't, I am unable
To leave, to be apart

I live within and stay
Here for however long
Days may pass by the moon
But the music still plays on!

A dancing hand touches,
Moves like a bird
In flight it bats it's wings
Dancing like spoken word

It casts a shadow on my face
Where hidden answers lie
I dance a duet with none by me
As days and lifes go by

In this moment, an eternity
Somewhere the music plays on,
And I am still dancing, happy

One of my favourites from 2017. So far.

Written Feb 2nd 2017
#dance   #sonnet   #music   #dancing   #melody   #dancer   #musical   #waltz   #waltzing   #waltzes  

The mystery of the rare brown-eyed girl
With the strength to splay sunshine from her smile
A child of spring, wishing life to be worthwhile
Young woman with a heart of lovely pearl
How free thoughts dash through a mind to unfurl
Navigating quick feet through life’s trial
Witty, they say, a spirit versatile
Dripping from red lips, words a constant twirl
Impossible girl who cannot be still
Love, an endless gift the brown-eyed girl bids
In two rusted orbs, her excitement brews
Irises capture vintage thoughts, a sandy thrill
Stagnation, a word her soul openly forbids
A beautiful creature conquering in saddle shoes

I love my friends and I love different sonnet forms. I wrote this poem my sophomore year about a good friend of mine. Shout out to all of the free spirits out there.
Mar 19

How do you dislike me?  Let me count the ways.
At least half of what I do and half of what I say
Seems to irritate and frustrate you.  
My deeds mistrusted and misunderstood
As something other than selfless good.
Your suspicion steals a narrow view
Of how I would prefer to spend my time.
So the sentence precedes the crime
And love is shackled in its gaol,
A prisoner with no parole,
Once found guilty, condemned for all,
And nothing can now avail.
Imagined crimes will never fade
And penance be ne’er truly paid.

Time has passed—painful, long years
My words have ceased to flow,
And I am drowned by all these tears,
since you left long ago.

This river—my own torture— flowed passionately in and out.
Rains of my own sentiments poured into a hollow beach.
Helpless cries of restless doubts.
It was you they failed to reach.

Finally, after everything I had seen
Red skies and starless nights
I became aware of what it means
Having you once again on my sight.

I found you in the shadows of the moon—the brightest of all stars
And now that you returned, I can heal the stitching of love’s scars.

#love   #pain   #sonnet   #stars   #sky   #help   #return   #shakespeare   #essay  
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment