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 Oct 2015
Medgar Fallon Roe
I’ll not take your time, beyond what the need,
To relate to you a story and deed
As there’s no one else to plea this decree …
For just I survived, don’t you see.

I’m an old man, with a mind full of mist
But details of that night in my mind still exist
As vivid and clear, both sharp and exact
No, no mist there – all of it’s fact!

When I was young, and adventure routine,
With excitement and newness still unforeseen
I was eager to spread my wings to the world
And seek more adventures as those wings unfurled

Within my long travels I happened to meet
Two other men, with friendships replete
One was named Beckett, the other one Flynn
And better friends there never have been.

Beckett was tall – an athletic type
While Flynn, the scholar, more of pinstripe
Pinstripe or athlete – it mattered not
It was our essence together and that which it wrought.

Engaged were we in all daring do
High on the mountains, and under seas, too,
We crossed dry deserts, and jungles of green
And other adventures there in between.

We’d been together, t’was our sixth year,
And still our adventures made us cohere
To every madness – to every rave …
Until we decided to enter The Cave.

We discussed the encounter and planning for weeks
And assembled equipment – some new, some antiques
Until at last the day it arrived …
And our excitement?  It still there survived.

The map we used, was bought from a guide
Who told my friend, Flynn: “Don’t go inside”
When he had learned of our journey’s intent:
To enter The Cave, and begin our descent.

The guides’ words, had given us pause
We had thought: What was his reason or cause?
But … dismissed were his words of advice
We had each other … and that would suffice.

With ropes and lantern-hats and other such gear
It was into The Cave we then disappeared.
The light from our lanterns speared into the dark
We spoke very little - made no remark.

Onward, downward, in blackness we went
Placing out markers for our later ascent
The sounds of our footsteps, and scraping of walls
Reverberated ‘round us – as echoed recalls

In about six hours, or maybe ‘twas more
We encountered water upon The Cave floor
And there all around were beautiful shapes
Never were seen such gorgeous landscapes

Stalactites, stalagmites and mineral mounds
And dripping water with its’ “plopping” sounds
Pinks, violets and shades of green hues
And small salamanders made their debuts

We found a small dry spot and then we assessed
This was a place we could stop now to rest.
I turned up my lantern, and took off my hat,
When Beckett said: “Hey.  Did you just hear that?”

I moved not a muscle, and my ears went to strain.
All I could hear were the droplets, like rain.
Then from The Cave’s bowels came a loud din
I continued to listen – then heard it again.

We looked at each other, but said not a word
Confused and startled by what we’d just heard
It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp
But more rather like a guttural rasp

One thing was certain, it wasn’t of stone
That could create sounds while standing alone
T’was our discussion, from which to derive:
The source of the sound was something … alive.

Then from The Cave’s deepened black hole
Came again sounds from a source with no soul
The sound was menacing, and one I despise,
I watched the fear grow within my friends’ eyes.

Instinctively, we three then moved as one
In that instant – our re-ascent had begun
I had been last in the line coming down
Now I’d be the first to reach the “above-ground”.

Quickly my feet in the lead, lead the way
Flynn, right behind had nothing to say
My friend Beckett, brought up the rear
And in that position had the greatest to fear

The lamp on my hat pierced through the black
And I looked for our markers to lead us back
To save our strength, nothing was said
Again - the loud sound that filled me with dread.

The sound became louder and closer it be
And I moved faster through the black before me
I could hear Flynn’s breathing, so close behind
I tried to concentrate on the markers to find

Somewhere behind me, then snarls I heard
Loud and vicious, run together and blurred
Close … so close … the beast was so near
Adrenalin rushed through me to react to my fear

T’was then I was hit with an overpowering stench
The smell caused my stomach to turn and to wrench
The odor blew past me, and I knew t’was the breath
Of the Beast of The Cave – its’ oder of death.

I was near running, but down on all fours
Sweat was streaming from all of my pores.
Then I heard those terrible screams
The ones I keep hearing in all of my dreams

It was Beckett I knew in his shocked agony
Midst the snarled snapping of jaws I can’t see
I heard bones cracking and squishing of flesh
And the fear within me gave new strength afresh

My fingers were raw from grabbing the rock
But on moving forward my mind had its’ lock
My stomach still queasy from the stench of the beast
I knew it was finishing its’ beastly feast

I knew, too, t’was only a matter of time
When the beast would return - I had to climb!
I heard Flynn say: “IT’S COMING AGAIN!”
Again was a surge of my fear deep within.

I heard once more the beast from behind
And fought the panic taking over my mind
Something heavy struck against The Cave’s walls
The kind of sounds that ghastly appalls:

A scraping of talons of heavy clawed feet
Caused my heart to double its’ beat
I had the feeling that Flynn lagged behind
I screamed my urgings loud and maligned:

“Flynn!  Flynn!  Catch up to me!”
But took not the time to look back and see
For the beasts’ crashing against The Cave’s face
Told me it neared – and was re-gaining the race

My knee hit a rock, and my balance was lost!
I fell to the ground, and then feared the cost
In losing the time in scrambling free
Again sheer panic stabbed into me.

In less than an instant, Flynn was there too,
His face in my light was of a strange hue
And as he helped me get back to my feet …
Flynn turned around – t’was The Beast there to meet.

The stench overwhelming, but the sight was much worse
There standing before us: The beastly curse
Of overlapping scales in shades of dark gray
The rest of its’ body concealed in umbrae

But its’ eyes … its’ eyes … I’ll never forget
Rheumatoid yellow, and deeply inset
Its’ reptilian lids blinked just one time
‘Fore its’ lips peeled back - revealing the slime

Glistening yellow over dagger-like teeth
Then oozed from its’ mouth to fall there beneath.
The beast reared up, then we saw its’ claws
Sharp and deadly within its’ forepaws

Towering above us, no sound the beast made
On beams of our light had his gaze stayed.
Unexpectedly Flynn then turned and faced me
… With less blinding light, the beast could again see

Why Flynn had turned I never will know
For the beast bit him in two, at his torso
And I was looking at Flynn – direct in his face
When the beasts’ bite his life did erase.

I screamed, and instantly away did I run
Away from the beast, and dead companion
Through the price of Flynn’s life, more time had been bought
To reach The Cave’s entrance – the goal that I sought

Running wildly, several times did I fall
Toppling did not my mission forestall
The beast I knew still somewhere behind
Drove me on forward with my frantic mind

I heard its’ clawed talons scraping the wall
And prayed I’d not again stumble and fall
Then, up ahead, a small opening I viewed
And I saw my chance, with hope there exude

Twelve feet … six feet … then it was three
But the beast and its’ stench was there behind me
I dove through the rock opening, scraping my head
But better that injury than ending up dead

I was elated, and about to rejoice
I then heard a scream – it was my own voice!
In my leg erupted intense blinding pain
Looking down I saw the bloodstain

My leg, through the opening, still was stuck out
There was but split-seconds, before I’d lose it no doubt
I pulled my leg back, and in but a flash
My shoe was removed by a clawed talon slash

I crawled back from the opening, then I could see
My wound was deep, from ankle to knee
Then suddenly through the opening came
A clawed talon whose aim was to maim

I quickly withdrew out of its’ reach
As claws shot through the openings’ breech
The opening too small, for continued rampage
And the beast began then to voice its’ outrage

It’s deafening roars assaulted my ears
Echoed Cave chambers and in my mind did adhere
I began attending unto my grave wound
Knowing I now was no longer marooned.

T’was another hour ‘fore I crawled out The Cave
But many days ‘fore I’d shed the shockwave
Of what had transpired, and what I had seen
And my damaged leg was lost to gangrene.

Now sleep evades me, for my horrible dreams
Show beams of light, and unearthly screams
Of Beckett and Flynn and The Cave we were in
I know tonight, I’ll re-live it again.

So, now you’ve the story, you’ve heard the deed
I swear is the truth I’ve herein decreed
And Beckett and Flynn are enslaved in their grave
And I lost my leg to the Beast of The Cave.
 Sep 2015
M
the stage crackles and throbs with sweat and spit
as his energy pulses through the crowds- our veins
are end-to-end with our hands pumping, holding
him up. He knows who we are and what we deserve.
We, the people, he fights for us- in every sense of the word
he stands for every single person in this country
and every single person in the world.
 Sep 2015
Bill murray
Buffet today
Or pickings from the garden.
Cheap drink
Or sipping the harder stuff.
Is enough enough,
I got the bubbly stuff.
 Sep 2015
Bill murray
Gramp's can't sleep
Had to wake,
Take a ***.
Can't sleep.
Is it me,
Or the **** neighbor's flaunting
'Janie's got a gun' at 11:06 pm at night!
Maby the next door neighbor's would like a nice warm
Welcome..
With a real gun
My shotgun
With no Janie involved.
Just their favorite neighbor
Gramp's
Who can't sleep
Can't dump
Can't eat
Because I need sleep.
And the shotgun shell's are in my hand.
Good year for firework's again.
Just a scare will do them.
Just one big holed scare.
 Sep 2015
brandon nagley
i.

Dear lord
This is a quick prayer;
For someone in despair
Mine queen, and mine world.

ii.

Dear lord
The demons art messing with her head;
Making her doubt her worth
If anyone shalt suffer, let me instead.

iii.

Dear lord
She's the angel thou hath sent me;
She uplift's me and correct's me
Canst thou now please stimulate her.

iv.

Dear lord
Please don't taketh her away;
She's the breathe in mine lung's, mine night and day
The blood in mine heart, that runneth in mine vein's.

v.

Dear lord
Heavenly Father;
Put me upon her cross
Taketh her down, put me up, I'll dieth slowly for her to live.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
 Jun 2015
Shivendra Om
You sound
rigorous but gentle
to me, my love

—Bach, probably

in a sweeter
musical incarnation

—Stay

I will be your devoted listener
through the centuries
and beyond
by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
 Jun 2015
SøułSurvivør
Hear me* SCREAM!!!
I will split you
DOWN THE SEAMS!!!

I AM POET!!!
See me SHINE!!!
I'll make you SEE or make you BLIND!!!

I AM POET!!!
Smell the BREW!!!
I will not bow down to YOU!!!

I AM POET!!!!
******* INK!!!
I am CLOSER than you THINK!!!

I AM POET!!!
Touch my BRAILLE!!!
Even though I land in JAIL!!!

I AM POET!!!
See me FIGHT!!!
Know what's right!
I'll be a light in the night
I have a pen and I have
MIGHT!!!

I AM POET!!!
I am not WEAK!!!
Yep! I am a
JESUS FREAK!!!

I AM POET!!!
I will SHOW IT!!!
You all need me and you
KNOW IT!!!

I AM POET!!!
I am FREE!!!
Let me show you ways to SEE!!!

I AM POET!!!
SO ARE YOU!!!
You are
GREAT and that's

THE TRUTH.
>>~~~> POETS UNITE!!! <~~~<<

~~~
 Dec 2014
Jack
~


Painting a picture of porcupines playing
Pincushions out in the field
Purple and pink for this playful perception
Plans of their purpose revealed

Painful endeavors of pacified pranksters
Presenting a pie at their place
Pecan or pumpkin, pickle, pineapple
Pieces are smeared on their face

Putting the paint on some powder puff paper
Pleasure in each stroke is plied
Pausing to peer at the porcupines playing
Prancing in pansies they hide

Puzzling problems with pretzels and peanuts
Posturing people to prove
Pistachio perfume in prime presentation
Preaches that peaches will move

Polishing pastels on pre-printed pages
Prized the possessions we seek
Paisley the plumes of a peacocks posterior
Portraits now come take a peek

Pampering piccolos play the piano
Pure as a pelican’s prayer
Picking a parcel of plum flavored pudding
Poetic prose fills the air

Pleats in my pants shout in proud proclamation
Puddle my pores they perspire
Poodles on playgrounds prevent prosecution
Plotting my hearts pure desire

Passion precedes every past tense of parting
Piled with a presence so true
Painting a picture while purposely dreaming
Promising my love to you
Ok, just having a little fun and I have to P.   :)
 Nov 2014
Seán Mac Falls
Lips, soft as petals, rarefied as undiscovered
Wild orchids.

Hair, threads of gold gathered, woven, mined
From secret caves.

Eyes, that fell from violet skies landing on new
Isles of azure.

Skin, so salmon flecked, subtle, delicate, solas,
Destination.

Your body is buried cask and gilded keeper
Of jewels and flame, whispers, searing cold,
Blue fires untamed—

Lush, fertile wanderings, colourful birds, sweeping
Moon, pools of sorrows and light, trees branching,
Pleasures keen, crushing delights without name.
 Nov 2014
unwritten
she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.

but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?


this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)
this is more of a story than a poem but i like how it came out so leave thoughts & comments please
 Nov 2014
Jack
~

The Snow Queen waved her magic wand,
the skies they grew so dark
Clouds moved in without a sound
as shadows did embark
~
Two happy lovers walked along,
they felt a chill blow in
He wrapped his arms around her soft
to keep her warm with him
~
The scenery was beautiful
with geese upon the lake
The scent of pine and winter breeze,
they saw the first snow flake
~
Then the sky was filled with more
ice crystals floating down
They marveled at the wondrous sight
now white upon the ground
~
She stared up at the heavens fair
in circles she did spin
He followed every move she made
as fun would soon begin
~
A thousand little snowflakes white
were falling from the sky
A perfect winter wonderland
about them it did fly
~
And then he saw her do it,
just like when they were young
She tried to catch a falling flake
right there upon her tongue
~
He chased the flurries with her,
their laughter could be heard
The neighbors out across the lake
said not a single word
~
Except to only wonder
why laughter they did hear
When snow was steady falling
and winter sure was here
~
Then they saw these lovers
running hand in hand
Catching snowflakes on their tongues,
now they understand
~
They heard him saying something
yet it was hard to hear
Because these two were far away,
not so very near
~
The Snow Queen she was smiling,
looking at these two
She knew it’d make them happy,
this magic she did do
~
When then she saw him staring,
a wink came from his eye
For he was saying thank you
to the Snow Queen in the sky
~
Now every time its winter
these two just look above
Sending her a message,
floating on their love
~
With beauty all around them
and snow geese on the pond
The Queen will grant their every wish
and wave her magic wand
~
And when the snow is falling
so fresh and oh so new
Between the laughter you might hear
him tell her, I love you
~
 Nov 2014
Haydn Swan
The film plays through a cigarette haze,
spliced souls flicker on the silver screen,
noir shapes moving through the mist,
dark shadows and beating hearts,

soon the story starts to unfurl,
plots thicken through startled eyes,
rehearsed actions and missing words,
electrification through a Gothic grin,

tears fall on the words of a script
undulations of what we once were,
the movie closes to a final score
torn manifestos as the credits roll.
                    
                       Finis
please dig around here for the abstracts, folks,  this is not just a poem about a movie but then again maybe it is ........
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