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Ivan Aug 18
sweetest writer,
climb forth from the deep trench
in my heart's wound
and quench my thirst for love

dear doctor of written expression,
incant the melody, cure this malady
with verses that expose the affinity
that is inherit between her and I

smith of words,
hammer out a spell to please a vampire
with a quick, orangy sunset to transpire
wield the blade of dusk
against the morning star until it expires

as we conspire to set our bed on fire
there is no consequence too dire
for my one and only desire

master lyricist,
compose the sensual phrases
a song in whispers that ripens
her delicious fruit until ready for savoring

and last, to the dear poet within,
feed the lust filled inclinations of creatures
that hunger for each other's bare skin

allow your words to manifest
her sensuality alike a tinderbox
so I may then ignite her fantasies!
The Gray Wolf Aug 18
A breath a heartbeat a moment's grace
Fading footprints a single trace
The sun that warmed the air that blew
A whisper where life once grew
The colors drain a gentle gray
The edges blur then fall away
A silent sigh one a final plea
Lost to the wind for eternity
The memory is but a fragile thread
Unspooled unwoven then quickly shed
A story untold is a song unsung
Unspoken words die upon the tongue
And what remains when life is past?
Just shifting sands a shadow cast
A slow descent a final fall
To dust comes nothing after all
To Dust
Mark Toney Aug 18
“For once in my life, I want to be a poem” — Anne Winter

If I were a poem
Could my poem be a poet?
If such could be done
Who besides me would know it?

If my poem—as a poet—wrote something new
Could I as a poem be the other poem too?
Or would I simply exist on a document list
Along with other poems that coexist?

(As a poem I would be …)

Living on the edge of poetry forms’ parameters
Running ever changing rapids of trochees and iambs
Line dancing varied rhythms of iambic pentameters
da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM ad infinitum

Dancing two-step footles with the poem of my dreams
Braving slalom ski runs of Klein’s Vase Verse
Climbing lofty peaks of Heroic Crown of Crowns
Then doing it all over again in reverse

(I do have a poetic license you know …)

I think of such thoughts from time to time
When my muse is confused and obtuse
Especially when finding it hard to rhyme
My head flooded with thoughts most abstruse

What would it take for me to be a poem
Vice versa my poem to be poet?
The very next time my muse starts to roam
I’ll try to find out—don’t you know it!



© 2025 Mark Toney
Light verse. © 2025 Mark Toney. Inspiration for this flight of fancy was “Poems and Poets” by poet Anne Winter. A Footle is a two-line, two-syllable trochaic monometer poem with an integral title suitable for light, witty, pertinent, topical verse. Klein’s Vase Verse is a copyrighted poetry form created by Suzette Richards. (2025) An Heroic Crown of Crowns is a collection of fourteen heroic crowns (of sonnets) linked together with the final, or fifteenth, being comprised of the last sonnet of each of the fourteen to become a heroic crown of master sonnets.” (Mind Blown!?!)  Remember, too much iambic pentameter can bring on the medical examiner!
I'm holding onto a makeshift raft                                                          sailing  into a hurricane's wrath                                                            ­             Tossed  around in a sea of emotions                                                         ­ trying  to navigate a turbulent ocean                                                          The  waves crash in mercilessly                                                      ­ choppy  waters, dangerous seas                                                             ­   in  the perils of uncharted territory                                                        ­ drowning in tempestuous energy
This was how I was feeling all last week. I had to write about it to get through it. Just another, tortured poet.
renseksderf Aug 17
Heart open, trusting,
Fagin's shadows play their game,
Deception's cruel dance.








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from musings on sections of Charles Dickens’ “Oliver Twist
Nikita Aug 16
Like a lamb to the slaughter
She drags along her daughter

Unaware of the blood behind her
Her chest scraping the gravel ground

She pleads out to her mother
Let me walk let me free

Looking straight ahead
The mother says
Don't you dare bother me
Oh, how will I lead this life without love
My heart yearns for you,
All of you.

I long to find you in every universe, and in every lifetime.
You helped me be the person I am today.

My family.
Don’t leave me hanging like this.
I’m still learning how to live.
I’m still trying to love.

My deepest condolences to you and your loved ones.
For my heart is preparing for the worst.
I only wish, love.
No solitude.
No anger.

Just love.

As the days come and goes, I ask nothing but peace and love God.
Prepare me for this solitude that I may have to face one day, when no one but You is left.
Lord, prepare me for the best and worst.
And protect who I treasure most.
I’m not ready for this thing called solitude
Nikita Aug 15
The audacity
Of your tongue
To be shaped like a flower
But to speak like a serpent

The animosity
Of my chest
It heaves each time your near
You pollute my very air

Disgust and contempt
Don't begin to explain
How much I seeth
When I hear your vile name
Traveler Aug 14
A poet is but a beacon
In a storm that will never cease
Anchored to this ocean
By a soul that’s can’t break free.
Traveler Tim
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