Hope you pardon my intrusion for
I am here as messenger alone. The
King asks for you to feather a journal
that will hold value resilient to time.
Your invitation he has written for your
acceptance or denial. A summon not
for carry, for seven promises (men
and women ~ fair in wisdom) will mind
this also. Favor to join is idea the
King will mention.
I hope you will favor in ponder, this as
a token for your family to venture.
As your shake is firm I feel, in you I
sense a humor and honor to astound
even my father. Direct in this appeal
we wish for you to join in many of our
meals in days afar. For your intellect
to preface these journals in daily
is of excellency to the crown. This
endeavor is gift to King’s laureate and
Time who is clever as any, with
eyes to contest its followers, is my
father’s enemy. Never the less he
insists to fill your mind with the
divine poetry of detail ~ all in time.
Absent from conjecture and mundane
in matter. Amend his will in a tone
compassionate but clever as a jesters.
Understanding cleverness is knowing
silence is his magic. Laughter is
louder after silence, as every moment
leans with a commence to it.
You attire in a dressing of language
In you the truth will contend in
this forum, all minds beseech your
presence at once. Spoils will riddle
you queer as you must be quick in
gather as to fuel the idea. Without
taste for regret you must serpent the
poisons for the benefit of an ideal, this
shall be done in solace alone.
Soil your apologies in poetics. But
pressing your wisdom as dressing
within these works, lay unconventional
and wastes our King’s time. And is
self ~ servant. The King wishes you
a retrofitter, not designer of ideas
embellished. Value what’s ideal.
Something is found when wise men
seem broken in accepting less, but
as surely have escaped sure death.
Treaties decree this vision so.
The ground we walk upon is justified
in conformity and rests within
individual principles. Uncommon are
the steps prevalent to understanding.
Some come to muse. Then master,
but revision the first for the wise seam
better. Wisdom is genuine in repose,
when a wish ~ gone ~ regret, passes
by as your mistake. A same a mask to
a jester. So alone is this jester made
genius in his King’s court. Finding
only solitude when joining the show.
Brother Freedman, I am but
messenger and son of our King.
I serve with solitude, such the Lion
stares afar may feel. With time
alone idolized, and profound ~ this
beast is demure and truest of any
~ trusting his strength. Calm in
demeanor it is destined and such is
blessed. My father fairs his share
of similar characteristics. In so
many compelling ways. Principles
to maintain, just ~ and in prominent
formality. In such I will address you
as first intellect.
In my vision I have sent my son to
question the seekers of this leisure.
Address of the street you call home in
pleasant chatter, is yours to give your
kin if your decision is in favor. Token
to a pure education shall be warranted
for your children a~same.
My autumn is as golden as the seams
that vein the leaves. So falling is
justified for even Kings. The wind
beneath my leaf will bend and carry us
free. Concealed and closed are those
who fear ones own insight. Humanity
is the story here, and we must verse it
write, to justify our common appeal.
Common sense will be the milk of
this birth, a child, rising in small feet
of first steps. Simplicity for mind
to meal. Ideals better the soil if in
sow ~ they again seed. This wills the
fruit ~ in folds. Similar the mind kept
in ritual of change are rations for
reason. This is the cycle of seasons.
Metaphors and imagery shall suit our
souls ~ in step we mend ~ luster and
Uncommon are the King’s measures,
ideals are what drives his carriage. A
life of duty and by his peoples mention.
They rest on his deepest notions.
Words he rests upon and are carefully
chosen. That’s where you come in my
Sir Laureate to be. You shall stencil in
his every mention. Also when in the
company of others, for our home shelters
the wise and few. You shall know the
trust he imbeds in his last desires ~
and your duty to carry them write. So
willing if you may ~ cement his vision
as your duty ~ and leave your craft for
a journal of reason. Your feather shall
carry you kindly if you choose to write.
to be continued...
I just want to curl up and cry curl up and die
Everything sucks and I want everything to end
Not fair not fair not fair
Don’t know don’t ask
Like you care
Don’t text don’t call don’t talk
Breathe in and out
Breathe too fast
Don’t know don’t ask
Help me help me help me
But no help comes.
I like nude photographs. The beautiful ones. Black and white bodies silhouetted, frozen in time. Long legs with pointed toes dance across my brown eyes, leaving me wanting more. Arms reach, and stretch to grab my baby cheeks. I see her collar bones and I feel so peaceful. I've never seen something so beautiful. So graceful and fluid. Just like roaring waves of an ocean, her hips curve into her legs and follow through. Her photo haunts me. But it makes me feel alive. I appreciate her body, and how god made her so lovely. So fair. I love her.
It's not fair, it isn't fair
But with such a heavy glance of despair
You break me you mold me
I can't help but hold an overwhelming love for thee.
My poetry isn't bland, simple, or plain.
It's beautiful, a mess, and all sounds the same.
I use the same pattern, beat, and rhymes,
Eventually it will be used one too many times.
I am fighting the urge to love you so pure
God help me I have a poison and you are the cure.
Ignore me, push away, leave me to a thought.
It makes me miss you so much that I rot.
I'm a tree in the wind, I push but do not break
Will loving you turn out to just be a mistake?
Sometimes it's perfect and you're my closest best friend,
Other times it's like it was all just pretend.
It's not fair for me to desire your full attention,
And the sorrow in my soul is beyond comprehension.
I will never forgive myself, and you shouldn't either
I understand you need a break, your heart needs a breather.
I feel so worn thin, so little butter over too much bread
These thoughts and emotions must get out of my head.
What do you want can't you make yourself clear
But please don't tell me it's what I fear.
It's a sick sort of enjoyment, I get from this life,
It's hard to accept you seeing anyone else as a wife.
But that's what it's come to and that's my fault too
I just hope she makes you happy and her love is true.
You told me have patience to see if it's in my favor
I know I've had inexcusable behavior.
You probably didn't see that it was about you and I,
Waiting to see what you choose makes me want to die.
The heaviest burden I ever have bore,
I'm so sorry for that time, your heart, I tore.
It makes me feel ill to think about my choice,
But you don't understand, he stole my voice.
I won't talk about him because he isn't what I want,
Will my choice forever be over me, a ghost that will haunt?
I'm so sorry my dear, I'm so sorry my precious love,
You always treated me like a gift from above.
And sometimes I think about how bad is the pain,
When the person you love does not love the same.
Then I recall yet again what I did to your heart,
I wonder if it would be best, if I just chose to depart.
I get so beyond torn when I try to decide
Because no matter what, I won't leave your side.
Sometimes it just hurts too much, I have to write it out,
It comes it waves and I'm sorry for my doubt.
I'm sorry for the way my emotions turn and twist,
I never want you to have to deal with this.
I'm such a mess and I want to tell you all that I feel,
But I fear if I do, you will leave, and my nightmare will be real.
Oh my oh goodness me this has turned into a mess,
I can't form my words even when I try my best.
I'm sorry if this isn't clear, doesn't help, or bring peace,
I have no one to talk to, it just sits and festers, this is my release.
Where we stand
Things at hand.
Flames are fanned.
Not far off
In a trough.
On which side
Will you ride?
Of this slide
Of their fright.
To the light
Eyes shut tight.
As we buy
And let die.
What the hell?
Can you tell
when to sell?
State of sin
All are in.
What to win
From this din?
What is fair?
As all stare.
Lest you err.
And what toll
From your soul?
Does the whole
reach their goal?
In the end
Did they fend?
Did they mend?
Or love send?
I fear I've solved a mystery,
A something that I could not see,
A secret locked so very deep
It hid itself from me,
A something now I fear I know,
That was a mystery not so long ago.
And now I understand it fair,
That secret something lurking there.
You are the one I love,
More than all the stars above.
There is not much I'd rather do
Than share my simple life with you.
To hold your tender hand in mine,
To see your glowing smile shine.
And to know that when you're close to me,
You set me free.
You are my one desire,
You set my simple heart on fire.
Each day, just like the day before,
I find I only love you more.
You make me want to be
A better man than simply me.
A man that bears the love you share,
And who, until now, stood unaware.
The man worthy enough to steal your heart.
The man who'd give his all, and more.
A man who's life you've touched so deep
He understands what life is for.
If it were not for you
My days would have no gentle fire.
The stars of evening's twilight shine
Might just as well retire.
Oh, they may surely shine tonight,
And share their gentle evening light,
But they pale and wane for want, it's true,
When they are all compared to you.
You are my serenade,
That spark within a flame,
My gentle summer shade
Each time you call my name.
The way your soft eyes glow,
Shine like your gentle kiss.
Soft as the Christmas snow,
I never can resist.
You are the one I love .
It is only you that I adore.
My fire, my gentle dove.
You've claimed my heart, and more.
You silhouette my night,
As moonlight whispers through,
And in the dawning light,
I'll go on loving you.
You make this life complete.
You find the best in me.
There's nothing quite as sweet,
As your gentle touch can be.
When rainbows cross our sky,
And April showers fall,
And lightning passes by,
You'll shine above them all.
As our starlight wanes away,
And our dawn is breaking through,
I can hear the fool in me pray,
May I share my life with you?
Is it so hard to ask today?
I can hear my soul debate.
May I steal your gentle heart away?
Or am I too late?
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be
a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live
-A. A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh)
i know it's a terrible poem,
worthy of the furnace, and
one of my least favorites
just another sickeningly saccharin
and redundantly pointless penning
my humble apologies
Mr. Coffee, who just today
Sent Margaret Thompson a bouquet
Of Birthday Lilies, green as tea,
Just shared a bit of news with me.
How odd he seems when he is near.
So daft at times, and very queer.
He told me just today a grim
And spectral spirit is haunting him.
He told me how it steals the light,
And how it keeps him up at night.
And then he said, "But I don't know
If it is friend, or it is foe."
Mr. Coffee's Ghost, says he,
Fancies his Cranberry Tea.
For he's spied it, quiet as can be,
Pour itself a cup, or three.
He suspects it fiddles with the Loo.
He's heard it flush a time, or two.
Though he figures it just wants to play
In its ectoplasmic way.
I fear, I do, our gentle friend,
May have finally met his bitter end.
That he may not see the here and now.
That he's lost touch with us somehow.
I fear his mind perhaps is spent.
And no one knows just where it went.
As though it packed its bags one shifty day
And lumbered off to Paraguay.
I fear our dear and troubled friend,
Has slipped right off the deepest end.
As though he's lost his crackers and his cheese
In tons and tons of black-eyed peas.
Or, perhaps it's but a jest? A way
To put us to the test today?
To find if we can fairly see
His little play at comedy?
He said he asked his Ghost one day
If it would kindly move away.
And it spluttered out, quite unrehearsed,
"But, truth be told, I was here first!"
Mr. Coffee says he has a Ghost
That likes to steal his raisin toast.
And when he leaves the living room,
He hears it toying with the broom,
Shaking corner cobwebs fair,
Dusting things from here to there,
And sweeping clean the Parlor screen.
Aye, it's heard, it's just not seen!
The oddish way he looked today,
He seemed just a wee bit gray .
Asking if he'll ever comprehend
If his Ghost be foe, or it be friend.
He says, "Of course the floorboards creek."
He hears the murky darkness speak.
He feels the curtains move and sigh,
As evening slowly tip-toes by.
He says, "The place is rather drafty, yes.
And it's a madhouse, I confess.
The sounds this house makes in the rain
Is never easy to explain"
This Ghost will turn the heater so far down
All it gets is cold.
And then tap tap tap the attic wall
Whenever it feels extra bold.
It will shadow every little room
With a phantasmic potpourri
This spooky little specter
Mr. Coffee cannot see.
This spiteful spook, it flickers lights,
To express it's ectoplasmic rights!
It rings the doorbell in a way each day
That scares the neighbor kids away
He'll spot a restless shadow dance,
Whenever he nods half a glance.
And Mr. Coffee feels he's in the right to stay,
And does not want to move away.
So, Mr. Coffee has a Ghost
A fair bit ghoulish of a Host,
Who thinks itself a China Rose,
And keeps poor Coffee on his toes.
Reminding him most every day,
His Ghost will never move away.
And in this Peculiar Poltergeist's parlay,
His Spectral Specter's here to say.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill
crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses
and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house,
full of gloom and haunted by ghosts."
-Henry Wadsworth Longfello
Sadness carried on the salty breeze
The waves dance upon the shore
The cool sand feels good to bare feet
Seashells collected in buckets
Horses galloping on the shores
Enjoying their freedom and eternal ecstasy
Golden memories carried in the wind
Forgotten thoughts linger in the breeze
Pristine palm trees standing on the shore
Ukulele songs in the tropical air
Lone tropical girls dancing
To the everlasting song of the waves
Tropical sunsets silhouetted with palm trees
Lighthouses standing on majestic islands
And I'm standing here alone
The sun kissing my brown hair
Its rays reflecting in my blue eyes
And my fair cheeks feeling its warmth
Caressing my face
This place feels sentimental to me
And I treasure it above
The hidden ocean treasures
Buried under the foamy waves
So just take everything I have
Cause you know I won't stop giving
It's in my nature
To slave to your needs
The night exposes our deepest fears,
Examines all our weaknesses,
Turns us inside out,
And opens our eyes…
To the monster within, each of us…
Then with the dawn
We wake from our nightmare.
We live life blinded by the light,
Uninformed of what truly lies within us.
Our sight strays from who we are,
To who we wish we could be.
Glued to the TV screen
And entertainment magazines,
“Mommy I wanna be famous when I grow up!”
What are we teaching our young?
To get laid by age sixteen,
Just to get on that silver screen?
To sell who they are,
Just to be accepted?
Why do we fear if our son is gay?
Even if he’s truly happy that way…
Why do we push our girls to fit in?
When we know they have better friends somewhere else…
The night brings to attention,
The fact that life isn’t all sunshine and daisies.
Because through failure,
Hopefully comes learning experience.
Is that what you fear,
Your child will hurt,
Regardless of what you do,
They will feel pain,
Just as you and I do.
All you can do,
Is support their choices,
Back them when no one else will.
Cause you can’t hold their hand forever.
I’ve had my fair share of screwing things up…
And came out on the other side,
All in one piece and better for it.
I embrace the night,
I allow my thoughts to wander,
In both the light and the dark.
Balance is everything here,
So let loose of insecurity
And don’t be afraid of life…