Pagan Paul

Pagan Paul Nov 13

Yes, this may be the crime of the century,
the solution Watson is elementary.
He did it! You see that's not so very hard,
so be a dear chap and inform Scotland Yard.

I am bored with this detective endeavour,
I am tired of being so ****** clever.
Sod it! And eternal damnation to all
I'll just wait for the House of Usher to fall.

Why? You ask my reference to Mr Poe.
It's this apathy that is starting to grow.
I cannot be bothered with all this tripe,
so Watson please fetch my violin and pipe.

I seem to writing lots of mildly amusing silly poems... hmmm!

#apathy #silliness #sherlock

Oct 18

Jill

Weekends in winter

A single gull in turbulence soars strange
Beach wind-groans whipping sand to concrete hail
In mute fatigue, the blue-grey sky submits
Obedient to winter’s shore-lashed slap
Until pacific breezy balms prevail

Across the roadway suburbs roost on dunes
Dry salt-sand soils, poor beds for cottage plants
Post sand-blast rain provides a rare life-drink
Wet softens crunchy grasses wielding burrs
Now possible their jaunty wind-bend dance

Three weeks have lapsed since breath was morphed to talk
Your silence cuts - ice words would waste chill air
I huddle under muddled blankets shield
To hide-sleep travel time to spend the day
No warmth in lonely waking waiting there

This chatless treatment, stony, icy hush
Sound muffles as a newly fallen snow
In quiet, distant cool is bitter fierce
Cold time a sorry echo of disdain
As timid clock dull thud-ticks glacial slow

New sound returns thawed tempers given days
Shy cautious in first breaths, as blue-grey sky
Out-waits the stinging punishment in sand
Outstretched the quaking warmness-seeking hand
As spring comes melting frost to snug and dry

©2024

poem written as a pair to:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4896783/school-days-in-summer/

Pagan Paul Sep 24

Sacrificial Lamb

Turn around slowly
and admire the life that you had,
regard it with the highest honour.

Turn around slowly
and admire the life that you had,
now that you are a skewered donner.

23/01/24

Just a little silliness!

#lamb #sacrifice #donner #kebab

Pagan Paul Jun 4

Pyramid Spell

I am birthed from an egg in the forbidden land,
standing proud I stretch my arms out wide.
I open my eyes and open my heart,
emoting memories pour into my cold mind.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
carry me out to the infinite stars of knowledge,
to where the Twin Goddesses of Truth
petition the serpent to deceive the future.
The barge of the Gone Forever sails past
and it bows its bows to the flail and the sceptre,
turquoise and gold with the face of millennia,
its image forever burnt into my countless lives.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now fly from the shell that holds my long sleep
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.

I beseech and invoke, with secret Words of Power,
the hidden wisdoms of the ancient spell.
I scribe, weighing words in their charm
to call forth the Magic of the Dark Night.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames
of he who abides throughout all time,
consume me with a thousand thousand names,
and make me the Lord of All Laws.
All Hail! to the girdle of the stars.
All Hail! to the secret glyphs.
Guide my journey through the eternal time
and take my Sphynx as your devoted sacrifice.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now sail my boat of millions of years
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.

I posted half this poem before, but have written a second stanza so now posting the full version that will be recorded, added to a soundscape and released later this month.

#pyramid #spell #journey

Pagan Paul May 8

Jazz Poem

The melancholy sound of a trumpet seeks refuge in the night,
as a snare is brushed gently and cymbal tapped light,
the far away strum of a guitars soft dreamy strings,
playing the music that compliments what a lone voice sings.

Cigarette smoke hangs heavy like fog on the old river,
the ****** sit at the bar sipping bourbon hand delivered,
the romantics dance on a floor that whispers charms,
planning their moves with the lover held in their arms.

The street light barely penetrates the grubby glass,
the bar winds down as yet another night goes passed,
customers sway at tables as they embrace a cloak
of the heady scent and high effect of marijuana smoke.

#jazz #atmosphere #moody

Pagan Paul Feb 27

A Scream Nobody Will Hear

I open my eyes.
The darkness is blackness.
The stillness is complete.
The silence is deafening.
I breathe in once
and the air is so warm.
The exhalation slow.
Why do I feel dizzy?
I move my limbs.
Realisation bites,
it is then that I scream.
A scream nobody will hear.

23/01/24

#psychology #horror

Jan 3

Keli

Needle and thread.

Red cotton thread looped
into a sharp silver needle.
Reliable, sturdy, practiced stitches.
In. Out. In. Out.
A repeated chant
as the needle continues its marching dance,
Its duty and its purpose.
Every ***** of the needle
draws little beads of pretty crimson blood,
the thread ties together
the pieces that have broken
and festered and weeped.
it’s been a never ending
rhythm of reinforcement.
Keep it in, keep it together.
The silver needle does its job.
The red cotton thread wears fast.