#quicker - Hello Poetry

We’re nothing but skeletons through safety nets - Fingers clicking new time sets, Carcasses savouring the darkness Lipsticks by cigarettes following the dim lit spec Of no ground beneath us, wanderers foetusless Figuring the freckles from the sun to our mess - Caskets of breath, holding up heads Hangers and railings, waiting for the horse sense sect... Arrows through archways, glass light through windows Pink blood smelling phoenix potent Broken street slabs, bruised zinc honing Wailing, awoken, wasting, frozen Bent not broken– darker, sharper Pieces of our star creature Learning to walk quicker Into the other whirl where we were hurled from... No longer held off, Dragons and sky gods fending the ether - Furious feathers float into glowing oceans that camber...

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Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 7:21 PM UTC

SeismicNought

Carcass Killers

We’re nothing but skeletons through safety nets - Fingers clicking new time sets, Carcasses savouring the darkness Lipsticks by cigarettes following the dim lit spec Of no ground beneath us, wanderers foetusless Figuring the freckles from the sun to our mess - Caskets of breath, holding up heads Hangers and railings, waiting for the horse sense sect... Arrows through archways, glass light through windows Pink blood smelling phoenix potent Broken street slabs, bruised zinc honing Wailing, awoken, wasting, frozen Bent not broken– darker, sharper Pieces of our star creature Learning to walk quicker Into the other whirl where we were hurled from... No longer held off, Dragons and sky gods fending the ether - Furious feathers float into glowing oceans that camber...

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Fahr an’ Ice by Michael R. Burch (apologies to Robert Frost and Ogden Nash) From what I know of death, I’ll side with those who’d like to have a say in how it goes: just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker), and real fahr off, instead of quicker. Originally published by Light Quarterly Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, Ogden Nash, death, fire, ice, liquor, quicker, humor, nonsense, light verse, parody, satire

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Mar 15, 2020

Mar 15, 2020 at 2:48 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Fahr an’ Ice

Fahr an’ Ice by Michael R. Burch (apologies to Robert Frost and Ogden Nash) From what I know of death, I’ll side with those who’d like to have a say in how it goes: just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker), and real fahr off, instead of quicker. Originally published by Light Quarterly Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, Ogden Nash, death, fire, ice, liquor, quicker, humor, nonsense, light verse, parody, satire

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I do not understand this poet Nor the glimmer in his mind, and no amount of persuasion Will ever make him mine The great poet the world has known The English Soul, the Bard of olde Speaks little but of jests, and not a word of happiness But who am I, forgot to time, I all but simple words I leave, I will never have Shakespeare's memory

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Feb 16, 2018

Feb 16, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC

TimelessWave

Stuck in Shakespeare

I do not understand this poet Nor the glimmer in his mind, and no amount of persuasion Will ever make him mine The great poet the world has known The English Soul, the Bard of olde Speaks little but of jests, and not a word of happiness But who am I, forgot to time, I all but simple words I leave, I will never have Shakespeare's memory

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Loud. Louder. Even louder. You'll never get it. The louder the music? The quicker the sadness goes away.

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Apr 11, 2015

Apr 11, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC

Rockie

Louder

Loud. Louder. Even louder. You'll never get it. The louder the music? The quicker the sadness goes away.

6

Time. What is it exactly? Why do we have it? For what reason do we need it? To make us anxious? To make us panic? To make us scared? To make us manic? To make us feel the need to rush things? When really all you are rushing is to die, Quicker, Faster, Just forgetting the world, Healing your wounds just like a plaster.

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Oct 4, 2014

Oct 4, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC

KZM

//T I M E.

Time. What is it exactly? Why do we have it? For what reason do we need it? To make us anxious? To make us panic? To make us scared? To make us manic? To make us feel the need to rush things? When really all you are rushing is to die, Quicker, Faster, Just forgetting the world, Healing your wounds just like a plaster.

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