Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Having summoned an Uber I walked
Into the Remise to await for its arrival.
Unusual, the owners of this 1750’s building
Had refused to knock down the Remise
And as it was snowing and cold it sure was
A comforting place to wait out of the weather.

I imagined how it must of looked in its heyday
Full of fine coaches and horse tack.
For a moment I could smell a horse all bridled
And strapped with new leather – something which
Stirred up an agreeable sensation within me;
I could feel the churlish beast chomping at the bit.

Twiddling my thumbs as I waited I wondered if
There were anyone left to construct such an ancient
Horse drawn carriage or was there even anyone left
Who could ever think of using it.
But as oft I do I let my mind wander to
Those good old days, though not one of which I knew.

Closing my eyes, I swear that I could smell the oak fire
Of a blacksmith’s furnace and I could hear the
Gent solidly hammering out a new set of gaited horseshoes.
In my minds eye I could see the Remise all
Full of carriages, each hooked to a fine stead -
What a grand sight it must of truly been.

It was then that I felt a hand in mine and when I
Turned toward the hand – to my wandering eye -
I had a hold on the most intriguing creature that God
Had ever given a man to hold, I dared not open my eyes.
She looked into my soul and asked me,
“Sir, which carriage?”

At about 8 paces in front of us was what I suppose
Was the best equipped of the lot and as its driver
Stepped down and made his way toward me/us
I noticed the lady was as taken with it as myself.
So Monsieur De La Dessein – the driver – or at
Least that was how he introduced himself,

Then he asked me if we cared to take the Grand Tour.
He led us up to the door of the chaise and as he opened
The door I said, “This one will not do,
It is hardly big enough for one.”
The lady, without hesitation, pushed me toward the
Door whispering, “Get in.”

Upon her insistence I climbed aboard taking up
All but about 4 inches of the seat cushion
When the lady put her head and foot in the
Carriage saying, “Move over.”
With no place to move I tilted up on one cheek
With my legs – one atop of the other.

Now my lady was climbing in full bodied and all
To find that she too must sit on one cheek facing me
With our knees knocking against each other.
The driver shut the door as the lady said, “Abarth.”
The horse sprang to life as the “La Grand Tour” began.
Face to face, body to body this buggy ride was …

How should I say it ….

Wonderful….

And then I did the stupidest thing that I’d ever done.
I opened my eyes to find the Remise empty -
No carriages, no horses, no blacksmith and no ravishing beauty.
Just an empty place to get in out of the weather.
My heart sank lower than it had ever been before.
What mind is this that can wander so ****** far from reality?

A little tiny car whipped into the Remise and right in front of me
It turned a half moon pulling up to me.
I noticed the labeling on the front of the car – Fiat.
The back windows were all blacked out.
The driver got out coming toward me on the passenger side.
As he opened the back door I asked him what kind of car this was.

He said it was a Fiat Abarth and he hoped that
I didn’t mind sharing the ride.
As I bent over peering inside the driver said his name
“Monsieur De La Desein” and sitting on
One cheek in the back of this mutant automobile
Was – that intriguing creature that I had just dreamed about.

Carefully – more expertly this time – I crawled into
The back – on one cheek – face to face
As the Uber driver asked me, “Where to.”
In perfect unison – we in the back replied
“La Grand Tour please.”

God, please don't make me open my eyes...
Anna Blake  Oct 2017
love drunk
Anna Blake Oct 2017
i left your wine glass
on my bedside table

for seven days
it settled in the very place
that your hands had aimlessly
chosen

staining a ring around a mostly empty bodice.

mostly empty?
barely full?

you see, for me,
the wine glass was
my way of having you
stay as long as I wanted.

I saw your delicate
fingerprints stamped upon
the stem and body

just as they were on mine, under a tin roof
amidst a blanket of summer rain.

                                 ......

i washed the glass tonight

as you boarded the plane to the rest of your life.

i wonder if you'll think of me as you sip on your complimentary glass.

rouge ou blanc, mon amour?
rouge comme mon amour?
ou blanc comme mon remise?

-Anna Blake
Styles Sep 2014
I've come to see,
This daylight adrift; amidst.
Refracting my joyless abyss.
Shadows of doubt linger; restless.
Misleading my moral compass,
Distant places that shouldn't exist.
Darkest corners of a timeless eclipse.
The more emotions I emit.
This cloud's progress persist.
So remise, I dismiss fears that are amiss.
Ann Eiden Mar 2012
Our love is like a cancer.
I’m fighting for my life again.

Stage One.

The first time you appeared,
you filled my brain with affection,
that felt as if it were like oxygen,
a necessity for my survival.

You came on to me,
fast and overpowering,  
feelings I hadn’t felt before,
you and only you is what I grasp onto.
I can’t eat but slowly you consume me.  

Our love is like a cancer.
I’m fighting for my life again.

Stage Two.

I like turns into I love,
my affection for you is growing like a sponge,
soaking up every bit you can give to me.

Little did I know you were a poisonous being,
embedding yourself into my brain you ***** wretch,  
clouding my emotions by threading my prefrontal cortex with detrimental lies.

Our love is like a cancer.
I’m fighting for my life again.

Stage Three.

The symptoms are there,
yelling loud and clear like an angry father,
when curfew wasn’t met.

My reality becomes evident when I see your hand in hers,
I become trapped in an ache that I can internally feel,
and that others can physically see in my figure.
I decide to cut you out like a surgeon
and try to mend the pieces that are severed.

Our love is like a cancer.
I’m fighting for my life again.

Stage Four.

I try to heal but it seems to be no use,
the ache persists not only in my head,
but has spread to my heart.
My body is conquered by chemical reactions like chemotherapy,
trying to wipe out the memories we have created and disease you are to me.

But still my body, my soul is weak and fragile
like a dry leaf in autumn,
crumbling,
only after time will it be able to remise.

Our love is like a cancer.
I’m fighting for my life again.

Remission.

You are vacant from me,
but you will always linger.
OnlyEggy Jan 2011
Left to surmise
My surprise
Bouquet of Roses
Love devise
Soul remise
Two single Roses
Your device
My demise
Dozen throned Roses
Your disguise
Heart excise
Petal felled Roses
Anger arise
Hate comprise
Black-tipped Roses
Left to surmise
My surprise
*Bouquet of Roses
(H-AP)
st64  Jul 2013
tracks
st64 Jul 2013
ants crawl on
slowly


1.
left eye is hopping fast for days now
and time's but a fair damsel
of delightful illusion
how she taunts and teases you
into sweet oblivion
of wickedly sensual basking

she drugs you with deep charisma
and struts at the doorway of your senses
she clutches onto the tracks in your mind
and claws deep into your ragged psyche
that same old song playing
over and over...
........over


2.
see right through train's chassis
rail sleepers spin vigorously backward
in such frightful haste
to get nowhere
no-one knows the real speed of time
out there.....

but for mere mortals
it's leniently paced in adagio
and parceled in mellowed excruciation
as ants walk serene
alongside the tracks


3.
creep into chaotic patterns
fall into hell
through a secret back door
even satan knows not of
as perched as he is
on his *oh-so lofty
pile of ordure
his blind heart
sees not
the strobed tracks
of your visiting soul


4.
take a syncopated shot up the arm
from the foul fang of a kind sinner

while saints bathe in fat glory
elsewhere

when you look again
you lie alone in a corner room
broken
yet untethered

tracks to heaven so obscured
by
your paradoxical attempts at levity
on the twisted playground of life's malady


5.
how badly you tripped
so many **** times
you ....got in the way
of your
own
remise


each time you fell
you looked UP
expecting help
when all the while
the answers lay
at your feet:

[your own mistakes are authentic and real;
you try to fox-tread out
but trying to turn your back on a *****
called destiny - equals catastrophe personified
oh, she WILL beckon you back
with her crooked finger
most kindly
to ensure no overdue lessons wait too long.....]



the ants crawl on
so
slowly




S T, Wed 10 July 2013
can't expect no bread falling from the sky...lol

absolutely love Bach on the lute....with such a delicate and organic instrument, how can one possibly go wrong!

right? lol

right :)







sub-entry: "lutenist's ecstasy"


1.
pear-shaped rebirth
would that these twelve maple ribs
bear traces of Adam's
tapered fingertips

bandying calloused hours
over triple rosettes
protected in intricacy


2.
may
echoes
of this love
resound well and strong
on ledged sympathetic strings

on an invisible bridge
over water's surface
currents travel
on angel wings
as notes of unambiguous clarity
ring out and extend
no rude clarion-calls


only
lutenist's ecstasy :)








http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=related&v;=2uApiRD7GB8#/watch?feature=related&v;=2uApiRD7GB8

(J.S. Bach: Fuge BWV 998)
LaSandra Akesson Nov 2015
"Can I borrow a blanket, there's a chill in the air that won't subdue.  Frosty windows give view to a blistering storm and chances of clearing anytime soon are remote.  The lonely don't need to be cold as well, lest they **** over altogether and parish into the frothy dust.  Blue lips that can't kiss away your pain, await at deaths door, with a blank stare of horror.  Toss it this way baby, before the fate of it all, falls upon you."
Samir  Apr 2011
Mellow DRAMATIC
Samir Apr 2011
I'm taking the time out to say
that over the years my hair will gray

so long as this wisdom wise
fails compromise

so long as the promise lies
fails remise

so long as our love cries

I'm taking the time out to say
that over the years our hair will gray


Despite the way I feel today.
1/3/2011 Samir Shahrestan- From A Silent Cryptic Basement
Thorns  Nov 2018
My Angel
Thorns Nov 2018
I haven't seen her in years
My shining star
My guiding light
My happiness
My remise
My angel
She saved my life
I have nothing more to say...
Austin D Woodruff  Jan 2023
Then.
Oh as the grass does grow
And the river does flow
When I hear the wind blow

It is then that I know

How He has made me
More unique than the tallest tree
More precious than the daintiest of bee
More close than that of the morning breeze

It is then that I see

How it is all his fame
That by his vein
And in his name
And with my shame

It is then that I proclaim

How He has kept his promise
Being the one who is sinless
Loving me when I did not want his kiss
He found me in my remise

It is then to see this

Wonderful
Lovable
Merciful
Unshakable

The One who was and is
And is to come
Who was then
And then was done

He is the Son
Of the One who made all to come


You know his name
He is without blame

But yet he came
To take away all the shame
And give us his first and precious name.

He is Jesus

— The End —