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a word hasn’t been spoken since,
humble abode, you ever seem?
exchanging praises and jolly sins,
with a mouth full of lies
what does that mean?
Dante Rocío Sep 1
Smithereens
we,
with, on, a truck’s van
speeding scrapping,
alas, vagabond voyage ceiling

Well, astral jumping from a car /cinnamonned sun/
isn’t hard then I see, creek

We,
the cloak, the moment and me the contracting,
a book of flights spread open, we
a discarding,
as its wing from gold smothered in
most blue sky and a red sign towards
embarking to a new life/face encrusting

Joy, lazy, lounged,
like a banjo in its autumn on a porch jiggly slouch,
strings light freeze at wind, clasp, then step up and
as the hitchhiker dance.

Amèlie, I caught your sound!
your theme, lastly away,
the accordion’s as of now met,
adopted in a knee’s set,
one leg around the other a mess.
Hanging springs of it, at edge.

Maroon,
eyes currently in wood carved,
steampunk clogs, clads there
fine.

Mellow,
whole body a cello,
from boots with folly drunk
through wood prolonging curved
to the “f”s at the end of ideas and
caramel hair known as falling leaves’
place.

This
will
be
a
great
something.

Laid open!
Further!
Hitter!
Onward higher!

Off,
so off
we
go
Driven through cloudy bright like summer
Road onward and in my third eye sown,
Thanks to the vicissitudes of
Amèlie Poulain‘s old accordion searching,
The Tarnation soft story in radio swaying.
I just saw my image on others’ cars limits,
Riding more hitchhiking than wind,
Than Fiddle on the Roof,
That could swerve on and on
With those old music clogs
Without things to be due hold
Knut Kalmund Jul 20
I have found her
I finally found her
the distinct enchanting singing
which allures even the
perpetually frightened birds
to her crimson magnet lips.

once in it, there is no return
once in it, you wouldn't want to return anyway.
where the beads evaporate
through the dulcet clouds
only to fall onto your rampant seas again

she eludes nature
yet still acts in concert
befouls all my sorrows
So they cannot see ahead of me.

for what I love is rather bleak
unless it slips between the nets
of her silken mouth,
ensnaring my body
like the ever patly fog does
in the cold mid-spring morning.

I can't spot me, let alone her
I long to see her
but sharing the trait of a jolly sun
confines me to marvel her

'least I can hear the guiding caroling
leading my chained up limbs
to an old long farscaped gate
proliferated with strong green tendrils
that took such good care of it
as if they knew, that I would arrive

one day
Donna Nov 2019
Driving in my car
I saw birds fly in the sky
Happy Jolly smiles
** ❤️ Been to work today with my husband we had lovely drive home **
My heart is pierced by cupid
An angelic maid of Rome
There ain't nothing that can console me
But my jolly sailor boat

Alone in my room
Staring up on the roof
There came this gem of sailors
Who interrupted my moody mood

We set out on a sail
To the Atlantis depth unknown
Praying we live to tell the tale
Of our trip to yo-**-**

Heave **, all hands,
hoist the colors high.
Now we dive; far from land
Where we never shall die.

We dive through the storm
In cold and thunderous rain
There ain't nothing that make we stop
Even though we may never return again

We hoist the colours high
Not for some useless glittering gold
We're pirates of higher rank
We only dine for yo-**-**

Freedom is yo-**-** to me
I'm ah slave to land no more
It isn't gold that call me to the sea
But the freedom to do what I love

From the sea of thousands ghommids
To the ocean of ice and cold
We roam, high and low
Hoping we'll soon get to dine at home.

We danced on the deck
While the music is playing
and the breeze has the helm
Of the fine lady swaying

We dreamed of been kissed
By the beautiful maid of calipso
We had nightmares of abandon-ship
Crushed by the horn of Davy-Jones

If this ship has to sink
I'll be there to watch it crash in slow motion
I'll hold the anchor at the hip
As I get drowned beneath the ocean

So forget not how we rise
to the tide of sea and river
We are the Atlantic knight
For we are not a sinner
The poet
Singing solemn songs
Of love, lust, and lonesome

The jester
Gabbing of gallant, gruesome glory
And jolly love jokes

A jester void of seriousness
And a poet void of soul
Together take on the world
Conquering it whole
How is it??
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Have you ever felt the rain on your cheeks
smelling like a burgundy rose in the sunlight?
Or the fear that drives away the fire for weeks
from your soul, brought by the zephyr of the night?

Have you ever read the unwritten letters
with the wandering feather of the folly,
about the predicted destinies in sweaters
and the voiceless hearts who forget to remain jolly?

Have you ever seen the floating married couples
searching for their star in the clouds, up in the sky,
how they are looking for dizzying touches and chuckles
while writing their love on white sheets, in the hot July?

Have you ever heard the sharpened words,
the ones with hidden or multiple meanings,
how the blind hopes are torn apart by swords
bringing up bitter enigmas and bad feelings?

I did. I felt all of this. I've seen all of this.
How I was smashed in million pieces by the pain,
and yet, I believe Life will give me another kiss.
It'll get better one day, even if it's trying to rain.
Steve Page Nov 2018
Fa-la, la-la, *******-la!
Deck your halls, don't skimp on the holly.
It's the season to be jolly -
Shelve you woes, wrap up your ills,
use your credit, put off the bills.
Follow us for merry pleasure,
you know we're all in this together.
It's just started, it's one long trial,
but we'll get through it, just fix that smile.
Not an easy season for many, but still the expectation to be jolly.
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