Thou art, of truth, a foe
Woe betide thee, oh snow
Once thy fall shall thaw,
Thou shall stand in awe.
When open wide, thy mouth agape,
In the sun, dyed, thy drape.
When, dripping down, comes the rain,
Thou, acting, a frown, shan’t feign.
At the thievish color of night,
Thy peevish color of white
Shan’t, shouting, rant and rave.
Thou, mounting, might give a wave,
For only a night there could be
Thyself to save ahead of thee
’Fore clouds quickly drift and sway
And under the blazing sun, left, thou lay
For alas I’m old and my hair gone grey
And there ahead of me, approaching, is the day.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
It Would Be a Cold Day in Hell
by Mutasem Amayreh
You heard my story
Tongue-tied
My crowning glory
In a World-wide
Eye-folded
Yet in a cottage
tied
One day
The owner scolded
The bushy eyebrows
Frowned
On the scent of treason
Yelped the hound
During the peak season
Different colored Inks spilled
One iota of sound reason
The Mantle it pilled
What follow that I
detest
While sight-blinded
Began the Rorschach test
The process, long-winded
I didn’t hesitate
That one-sided picture
Of the issue
Started to imitate
Composed a tissue
of lies
Didn’t freak
Cut my ties
Promised Ink won’t leak
Believed the wiseacre
That talent spotter
Never become a risk-taker
But a life-long voter.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC