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Edgar Allen settled evenings in the room at the rear
at a desk by the window where he could hear
breeze-rustled sycamore leaves sleeping
behind the neighbor’s house next door

through night’s florescent blue moon light,
its mist through low leaden clouds
he imagined the phantom he named Lenore,
and remembered lost Annabelle Lee  
amore he'd left laid alone aside a blackened sea

hers, the voice of a tree speaking, hushed,
like distant waves rushed upon shore,
faintly whispering heart-secrets
the ardent couldn’t keep evermore

was it she who sighed with love’s breathless lips
to flicker the flame of a tortured oil lamp’s light
the words born laboring children
with pen put in service to cover past rent,
refill an empty flask of verdant absinthe
for a nine-dollar-half-column poem -
fodder for fickle romantics to tear over
before a performance of Bellini’s new Norma

hardened, our modern hearts
fattened on diets of swollen bellies
that belie the dour misery of starving
they’ve grown sclerotic and cynical,
hungry for suffering flavored substantial -
a greasy disaster to stain the paper wrapper
enclosing depths of the human condition


sophisticates, we dismissed puerile appetite
for honeyed songs of longing,
the ornamented confections of jealous angels
old drunken poets sang
until dark full comes, alone, and we’re small again

then shadows still speak to starry skies
and fairy tales may come alive
to suspend belief with secret dreams
of the dear, lost Annabelle Lee
In an annual tradition that ended in 2009, a mysterious stranger would place three roses on Edgar Allen Poe's grave to commemorate his birthday.
 Feb 2011 Corkey Hawley
Bathsheba
YOU
Ignore the weeping wounded
As they wallow in the mire

YOU
Fear contamination
Of your heart's desire

Kudos
Respect
Acceptance

YOUR
Palatable poison of the day

Knock
Knock
Knock

"Have you seen my courage?"
"Is it coming out to play?"


"Not today *Poet

For your words are all but dead
Maybe ...
Next time
Stick to your principles
Instead of rolling over .... playing dead!"

"You have a voice
Use it
Stand tall
Walk tall
Walk proud
Believe what
YOU
Believe in

Not the needs of this faux crowd!

"I thought you were a Warrior
A God amongst mere men
But ...
When the push
Came to
The shove

YOU

YOU

Divorced yourself from Zen

"So here is my dilemma
The knot tight inside my soul
Was this just a one off?
Or will
YOU
Always roll

Always roll on with the 'in crowd'
Irrespective of the
THOUGHT
Or will

YOU

Stand by .... what you believe in?
Stand by .... what you've been taught?"


"Fakes & Phonies
Two a penny
Cut no ice with me
But ...
For the record
I will state
My name is
MARIE-LOUISE
Bathsheba was just a bit of fun
It held me in good stead
But now ...
I feel the time is right
To lie her down to bed"

"And as I lay her down to sleep
Silently close the door
I know she was a lot of things

But never a poet *****!

She always held her principles
In highest of esteem
She was an individual
But still part of the team
Can you my friend
Say the same
With your hand held on your heart
Or will

YOU

Stick your head in the sand
then try to pass it of
as

*ABSTRACT ART!
Dedicated to the countless fakes and phonies on Hello Poetry

You make me ***** with your pathetic and puerile *******
Guess that's the way my dreams break loose
A dark angel falls prey, and I ******
It's so mysterious

Shutting my eyes to a world so distasteful
Then lifting my veneer to colors dancing in a spirit's wake
It's a path I have yet to take

Bones falling out of their rightful place
All constructing a brand new purpose far from grace

I WATCH MYSELF SHATTER

Deep booms, dripping hot vibrations
Thick fumes, slipping dead sensations

Stretching my arms out to the silver screen sky
Seeking further hope until my blood runs dry

Holding my back leaned towards the soothing light
Keeping watch for my demons, breathing terror through the night
I fear the worst of going under
All rights reserved
The taste of Life , though bittersweet,
still lingers on my lips.
Tainted with what is known now,
smeared with what I missed.
My eyes no longer all aglow,
my heart no open door.
My lips are chapped with reality,
my tongue ,silenced above the roar.
Oh Life, give me a crytal ball,
no need to be shimmering clear.
Let me catch just a sliver of a glance,
tainted lips, bile after taste , what I had always feared.
I gave, I took, I watched and often all with smiling lips.
To thank me for what I sacrificed...
you leave me to face this.....
Twist the blade you leave behind...please!
Paul Roberts. The Journey
 Sep 2010 Corkey Hawley
v V v
The push of truth, the pull of lies,
The pull of hell that push denies.
The push of God, the pull of sin,
The pull of what I push will win.

To find myself, to lose my soul,
To lose my pain to find control,
To find the norm, to lose my peace,
To lose it all I’ll find release.

The mad deny, the sane enjoy,
The sane build up what mad destroy.
The mad in me, the sane in you,
The sane believe what mad pursue.

To stay in love, to go alone,
To go with you and stay unknown.
To stay within, to go without,
To go to where I stay in doubt.

To give in love, to take in lust,
To take it all to give my trust.
To give to you, to take as wife,
To take your hand I’d give my life.

The day is here, the night is done.
The night was long but day has won.
The daylight comes, the nighttime brings,
The night in love; The day with wings.
I am grateful
For your cruelty.
It you were kinder
I would be utterly lost.
4-8-10

— The End —