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14.8k · Sep 2014
Sunshine and Sand
Tryst Sep 2014
Divided we stand,
Each but a grain
Of sun-kissed sand

Together, a beach
Of sun-bleached strands,
United as each

Sips waves like wine,
Proud to stand,
Brothers in sunshine.
First published 15th Sept 2014, 20:35 AEST.
10.4k · Jul 2014
The Butterfly Princess
Tryst Jul 2014
Seeing her frail wings

In his calloused hands

        He had

                To let

                        Her go
9.8k · Feb 2016
Winter and Summer
Tryst Feb 2016
Winter, From Summer

Winter's kiss reveals
barren nests in arbored rests
summer's love conceals

Winter's veil behests
larder meals in burrowed fields
summer's sleep divests


Summer, From Winter

Summer's hand repeals
frigid tests of nature's guests
winter's grasp unseals

Summer's warmth invests
life's ordeals on newborn squeals
winter's chill arrests
8.8k · Sep 2015
Villanelle and Sonnet
Tryst Sep 2015
What Hope Remained?

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
        As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
        With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
        And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
        As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
        To scale a void devoid of dawning light.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        For those in sight of angels heaven sent
        Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.

        When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
        To gift last hope to all who saw their might:

                What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
                Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.



In The Fall

I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,

And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall

Before it plummets earthward --   'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.

        I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
        Did he derive the meaning of it all?
What Hope Remained: In memory of the three hundred and forty three firefighters of FDNY that fell on Tuesday 11th September 2001, who fought without hope to bring hope to the lost.

In The Fall: Dedicated to "The Falling Man" of Tuesday September 11th 2001, in memory of him and those like him who chose the manner of their own end, when the only choice on that day of days was how, not if or when.
8.3k · Sep 2014
Love vs Love
Tryst Sep 2014
~

Love!               vs              Love?

I love you!                      I love you?
It's true, I do!                 It's true, I do
Wonder why?              Wonder why;
You love me too!          You love me too?
~
First published 22nd September 2014, 10:00 AEST.
7.9k · Aug 2014
Not Good Enough
Tryst Aug 2014
Unguarded fool! Know this,
Thy kind words and thy gifts
Had bought for thee a mortal bliss,
Yet never healed the rifts

Within; no love redacts
The balance unredressed,
Despite thy wanton saintly acts
Thy remnants lay unblessed
7.1k · Jul 2014
Green Green Meadow
Tryst Jul 2014
Young man
Grab thy *****
Grab thy pick
And follow me

In this lush meadow
Green as green
Amongst the cherry
Blossom hills

Strike thy pick
Unto the ground
Take thy *****
And dig deep

Here then
Lies thy future
Look upon it
And weep

Now leave
Never to return
Until your
Appointed hour

And never forget
Life must end
And never forget
To live
If every person coming of age was required to dig their own future grave, perhaps they would be more mindful of their fragile existence, and better able to appreciate each living day.
6.9k · Oct 2014
Witches Wicked Brew
Tryst Oct 2014
She watched the water slip and slop
As flurried flames climbed up to heat
And bubble boil the cooking ***
Emitting steam to rise and sweep

In splendid arcs and cloudy wisps
Of candy cotton colored plumes
That filled the cavern air with sips
Of fragrant tones and sweet perfumes

And withered bony fingers bent
To loosely grip a ladle shaft
And scooping water, swiftly went
To pour a steaming cloudy draught

Into a pretty painted cup
Upon a dais of sorcery
And gulping down a mighty sup
She gasped,
                    *"A lovely cup of tea!"
Happy Halloween!

First published October 30th 2014, 06:50 AEST.
5.3k · Jul 2014
The Proud Potter
Tryst Jul 2014
The proudest thing I think I've ever done,
Such artistry, such skill I have attained!
The semi-glaze reflecting of the sun,
The richness of the blue, so lightly stained;
So perfect is the pointed pouring spout
That sits upon a rim of gold emboss,
And proudly do the handles both stick out,
Exquisite is the painted Celtic cross;
I toiled and slaved for oh so many years,
My fingers ever wet and moist with clay,
But now at last I'm free of all the fears
And doubts that clouded me until this day;
        I know you'll all be very pleased for me,
        So thanks, my friends, on Hello Pottery!
5.2k · Aug 2014
Tiny Painted Doll
Tryst Aug 2014
"Look!" she said,
Proudly holding
A tiny painted doll;

"I can make it dance!",
She squealed,
Excitement in her voice;

I watched, bewitched,
As the doll danced
And twitched;

Grinning like an idiot,
I joined the dance,
Arms flailing madly;

"Now watch!" she gasped,
Taking a darning needle,
Stabbing repeatedly;

"Urghh!", I laughed,
Bending over,
Feigning pain;

The doll moved faster,
Limbs blurring,
As she made it dance;

"I can't keep up!"
I laughed so hard,
Feeling sharp pain in my side;

I tried to stop dancing,
But my aching limbs
Kept on flailing madly;

She held my gaze,
Her eyes laughing
With manic intensity;

With a final ******,
She pushed the needle
Straight through the heart,

The doll slipped from her grasp,
Tumbling to lay beside
My still twitching body;

The last thing I ever saw,
Her reaching into a silken bag
And picking up another doll.
4.9k · Apr 2015
Poverty and Patience
Tryst Apr 2015
Preach poverty and patience to the poor,
When snarling winter packs hunt down the old;
Push them away and shun them from your door

Feed hungry souls with sermons and rapport,
Old shepherds, keep your flocks unto the fold;
Preach poverty and patience to the poor

When heaven's snow attests to hallowed floor
And beggars plead for mercy from the cold,
Push them away and shun them from your door

When hungry children cry 'a little more'
And clamour forth with rusted tins they hold,
Preach poverty and patience to the poor

When brothers, plague and famine, reach the shore,
The weak and dying seek to be consoled;
Push them away and shun them from your door

When paupers come with frosted feet to thaw,
And fill the hall to hear kind words unfold:
Preach poverty and patience to the poor,
Push them away and shun them from your door
4.8k · Jul 2014
When Acorns Fell
Tryst Jul 2014
Amongst the raging tempest storms,
Dark clouds covered the world
When acorns fell;

Blown hither and thither,
Dented, battered, and broken,
Fields of acorns;

If just one could take root,
Nurtured by hopes and dreams of the many,
To grow from seed, to sapling, to mighty oak;

One acorn could shape the landscape forever,
Changing the views of many,
A memorial to fallen acorns.
For the fallen of MH17
R.I.P.
x
4.5k · Aug 2018
Outside the Hospital
Tryst Aug 2018
They sit atop a low wall kicking heels,
Pyjamas draped in bathrobes pulled-to tight
To ward Antarctic winds — Nearby the squeals
Of blues and twos betray the mortal plight
Of some ill-fated soul — A fog bank peels
Up from their glowing embers, for in spite
Of coughing blood and dragging drips on wheels,
Collective will has long since lost the fight —

And did they think as children at the flicks,
As war was sold with glory, did they think
As Bogart raised a lucifer to his lips
How Tinseltown might guide them to this brink,
And just like Fleming’s catcher tempt them in
With candy coloured cartons and a grin?
4.4k · Jul 2014
Peter the Pirate
Tryst Jul 2014
Prologue

Once upon a time; when ocean
Travel was a novel notion,
Many feared the rocking motion
Of the ocean going ships;

But the worst sailing endeavor,
Even worse than stormy weather,
Was the unmistaken terror --
Pirate Peter and his whips ...


Introduction

Tales are wove from authors spinning
Yarns, their fingers deftly trimming
Words, until a new beginning
Sprawls across the open page;

So begins our humble telling,
On the street, an orphan's dwelling,
Where a young lad's feet are swelling,
Barely fifteen years of age.


A Humble Beginning

Peter shook and Peter shivered,
Weary limbs felt cold and withered,
Chilling winter winds delivered
Snow, fresh-fallen on the ground;

Huddled up, his clothes were sodden,
Tattered shoes were too well trodden,
Lost, alone, a misbegotten
Miscreant; half-froze, half-drowned.

As he lay there, slowly dying,
Given up all hope of trying,
Who should chance to walk on by him,
But a captain of the sea;

“What's this now!” the old tar spluttered,
“Up you get lad, you'll be shuttered
Some place dry tonight!”
he muttered,
“Take my hand and come with me!”

Peter felt himself man-handled,
Lifted up, and there he dangled,
Glancing upward, at his tangled
Grey and matted saviors beard;

“Thank you kindly, Sir!” he mumbled,
Took one step and quickly stumbled
Forward, landing in a jumbled
heap; “Lad its worse than I feared!”

Heaved upon the captain's shoulder,
Peter felt a might less colder;
As the sea dog walked, he rolled a
Cigarette with one free hand;

“Get some sleep son, soon the dawning
Of a bright and brand new morning,
Will come calling, and adorning
Over all this blessed land!”



A Merry Meeting

Peter woke from days of sleeping,
All around, he heard a creaking
Sound, as if the room was speaking,
Telling of its timber tales;

Up he stood and rubbed his bleary
Eyes, he still felt weak and weary,
Cabin walls looked drab and dreary,
Roughly hewn with rusty nails.

Suddenly, he felt a hunger,
Starting small, but growing stronger;
Feeling he could wait no longer,
Peter burst out through the door;

Racing headlong through the belly
Of the ship, his legs were jelly;
Once or twice poor Peter fell, he
Felt alone, lost and unsure.

Then he chanced upon the captain,
Dining with a merry chaplain,
Feasting on a pig with cracklin',
Sitting on an up-turned drum;

“Here's a fine lad in a hurry!
Settle down and save your worry,
There's no need to flurry scurry!
Come and have a taste of ***!”



The Daily Grind

Peter mopped and Peter scrubbed,
He got down on his knees and rubbed
The decks, and every day he loved
To feel and taste the ocean spray;

Rescued from a world of blindness
To his plight, he paid the kindness,
Working hard; where most would find this
Horrid, he embraced each day.

Such was life until one evening,
Waking from his fitful dreaming,
Peter heard an awful screaming,
And he watched as sailors ran;

From the deck, he saw the flying
Skull and Crossbones flag, implying
Pirates with no fear of dying;
Every one, a wanted man.


Battle At Sea

Cannons roared and cannons thundered,
Blunderbusses bussed and blundered,
Roiling masts were shot and sundered,
Splinters flew across the deck;

Rigging crashed and rigging crumbled,
Smashing down as cannons rumbled,
Falling masts and sails all tumbled,
Landing in a twisted wreck.

Swiftly came the pirate vessel,
Drawing close, to crash and nestle,
Broad-side on to form a trestle,
Over which the pirates ran;

Fearful of impending slaughter,
Sailors dived into the water,
Knowing they were never aught to
See their loved ones e'er again.

Peter rushed and Peter scurried,
Dodging blades that flashed and flurried,
Down beneath the decks he hurried,
Seeking for a place to hide;

In the hull, the darkness beckoned,
Peter locked the hatch, and reckoned
That might hold them for a second;
Finding crates, he hid inside.


His Master's Voice

Down below, young Peter waited,
Silently, his breath abated,
Hearing pirates jubilated,
As they plundered through the ship;

Soon he heard the latch locks broken,
Creaking as the hatch raised open,
Then a cold voice, harshly spoken,
And the lashing of a whip.

"Filthy ****-dogs, stop yer looting!
Stow the cheering and the whooping,
Look to all the sails a-drooping,
Fix the masts and man the oars!

On the morrow, we'll be sailing,
And I'm right anticipating,
That we'll get a strong wind trailing,
Speeding us to yonder shores!"



An Unexpected Find

Peter woke and Peter pondered,
How much time had passed, he wondered?
Cautiously, he rose and wandered
Silently from stern to prow;

In the quarters of the captain,
Peter found a pirate wrapped in
Silken sheets; a perfumed napkin
Draped across his furrowed brow.

Peter glanced around the room
And spied a hat with feathered plume
That lay beside a gold doubloon;
Time to make the pirates pay!

Peter stretched and Peter strained,
His fingers gripped the hat and claimed
Their prize, and next the coin was gained;
Gleefully he turned away.

Then a glinted gold reflection
Gleamed, attracting his attention;
Peter crawled for close inspection,
Wondering what he had found;

Two fine whips of equal measure,
Golden handled trinket treasure;
Peter felt a glowing pleasure
As he stole them from the ground.

Stealthily, he reached the deck, and
Found a crate on which to stand
And saw a sight that looked so grand,
How could fate have been so kind!

They were anchored by the moorings
Of the dock, where several mornings
Past, young Peter had been snoring,
Freezing off his poor behind!


Trouble In Town

Pirates robbed and pirates looted,
Pillaging, they laughed and hooted;
Plants were trampled, trees uprooted,
As they raced through city streets;

In the church, the bells were ringing,
Clangers clanging, peels were singing,
Warning of the pirates, bringing
Fear to folk, now white as sheets!

Peter tracked his pirate quarry,
Mind made up to make them sorry,
Chasing them beneath a starry
Ebon sky, he felt quite brave;

Suddenly, he heard a yelling
From behind, three pirates smelling
Like a brewers fare, no telling
How this trio might behave.

Drunkard Pirate:
"What’s this now, who’s that their lurking
In the shadows, be thee shirking
Looting tasks, why aren’t you working?"

Then he stopped and then he cried;

"Bless my soul, our captain joining
In the raiding, how exciting!
Begging pardon, Sir but finding
You at work is joy!"
he lied.

Peter grasped the situation,
Putting on an imitation,
With a rough edged inclination,
Like the one he’d heard before;

"Lazy dogs, now stop yer bleating
Otherwise you’ll get a beating,
Now you’d best get on retreating
Back to ship, we’re leaving shore!"


In his hat, he felt quite dashing,
Brandishing his whips, and lashing
At the three, and then just laughing
As he watched them run away;

Emboldened by his hero action,
Peter felt a strange attraction
To the power of the captain
That he had become this day.

Then his luck turned swiftly sour,
For upon that very hour,
Soldiers left a nearby tower,
Seeing him, they gave a squeal;

"Pirate ****, you will surrender,
Otherwise my blade will end yer
Evil life, now will you bend a
Knee and yield, or ******* steel?"
  

Peter tried to start explaining,
But the soldiers blows were raining
On his head, the blood was staining
On his clothes, the wounds did sting;

"Look at him, he must be wealthy,
What a hat! And look at this see?
Gold doubloon and golden whips! We
Bagged ourselves the pirate king!"



Trial In Absentia

Clerk of the Court:
Silence now! This court's in session,
Pirates must be taught a lesson,
But we may show some concession
For those with the sense to speak!

Let us hear the turncoats raving,
Of their captain misbehaving,
Then decide whose necks we're saving;
Otherwise, they're up the creek!


Pirate 1:
If it please your lords and ladies,
Captain Peter ate three babies!
Bit my dog and gave him rabies,
Hang him up and hang him high!


Pirate 2:
Here I swear before you gentry,
This whole case is elementary,
Don't give him no penitentiary,
Hang that captain out to dry!


The Honorable Judge:
It seems the evidence is clear,
Their testaments are most sincere,
No need to bring the captain here --
Evil men must pay their toll;

I find him guilty, captain Peter,
Scourge of seas and baby eater,
Hang the lying scoundrel cheater,
God have mercy on his soul.



At The Gallows

Clerk of the Court:
Peter, thou has been found guilty;
By the powers given to me,
I pronounce the sentence on thee,
Thou shalt hang this very day;

We allow you this concession,
Time to tell us your confession,
And denounce your ill profession;
Do you have last words to say?


Peter:
Upon my life, that thou contrives to take
Through ignorance, I swear before you all
That bearing no bad will to your mistake,
I'll hold you unaccounted when I fall;
If thou cares not to see the humble boy
Who slept upon the streets, who ate of rats,
Who froze in frigid snow as thee strode by,
And died inside, each time thee walked on passed;
Then who am I to think the less of thee?
For in thy eyes, I count not as a man,
So now I wonder what thee came to see?
Why should the end of me be worth a ****?
        A worthless life, yet still I did no wrong;
        Perchance in death, my tale is worth a song.


Dumb-struck faces squinting, staring,
Muttered murmurs, whispers sharing,
Shaking heads and nostrils flaring,
Then the townsfolk knew and gasped;

A drummer struck a solemn beat,
As Peter felt a ray of heat
From winter's sun upon his feet;
Peter smiled, and Peter passed.



Epilogue**

Late at night, when wind comes creeping
Through the streets, with children sleeping
In the gutters; Death comes reaping,
Searching for their blue-tinged lips;

In a flash of fearful thunder,
Lashing splits the night asunder;
Driving Death from easy plunder,
Ghostly Peter cracks his whips!

THE END
4.3k · Sep 2018
Ode to Thee
Tryst Sep 2018
A lake as still as still — a cloudless sky —
A bird-less forest — silent as the page,
That monk-like sits reflecting for an age
On pious deeds exalted upon high,
The page gilded in wisdom, lauded by
Its maker’s peers, wherein is set the stage
For Nature’s bountied beauty — I give homage
Unto its gifted craftsman, one that I
Have oft’ with envious eyes admired afar,
And matchless to his art, have grasped for skill
Far far above my grade — From him to me
Has come a gift as bright as Keats' Bright Star —
        Unto thy lake, may this stone rend the still,
        And loose thy songbird skywards, Timothy.
To one who inspires us all, in the hope this may inspire thee.
4.2k · May 2014
Wooing Poor Sue
Tryst May 2014
To wit to woo, or not to wit to woo,
Would wooing suit a suitor shy on wit?
Or would a witty suitor suit poor Sue,
For Sue aint one to want a witless twit!
If Sue is wooed by witty repartee,
Then Sue and suitor could be well suited,
But he who woo's poor Sue with lethargy,
Is like to like not how he gets booted!
So if you want to woo, and to woo Sue,
Then deign to don a suit and do your bit,
To shoot for Sue, your wit should shoot straight thru',
Or wooing Sue aint worth a sack of spit;
        Poor Sue just wants a witty suitor, see?
        So if your wit is wanting, leave her be!
4.1k · Aug 2015
Night and Dawn
Tryst Aug 2015
Night and Dawn,
Two lovers lorn
To languish unrequited

Their fingers strain
To touch in vain,
Yet never be united

In dreams they roam
Sunrise to gloam,
Entwined till evening wakes

On mountain halls
When first:

Night falls

And then, alone:

*Dawn breaks.
4.1k · Jul 2014
A Broken Key
Tryst Jul 2014
My heart is but a lovelorn box,
For you the door is open;
Your heart resides within Fort Knox,
The only key is broken;

Yet if I found a way inside,
And showed you all I'd taken;
You'd shake your head with stoic pride,
And tell me, I'm mistaken.

So keep your heart in some dark place,
Where none will ever plunder;
And trust you'll never have to face
A day when you may wonder,

If hearts are naught but trinket things
To lock away and treasure,
Or if your heart released on wings
Would bring the greatest pleasure.
3.9k · Sep 2014
Wendy the Wombat
Tryst Sep 2014
Beneath the surface of the earth,
Beneath the green and sodden turf,
Wendy wombat, supreme digger
Raced to make her tunnels bigger,
Pulling dirt with mighty claws
And toiling hard without a pause

Ensconced within her little pouch,
So small they had no need to crouch,
Her children slept, all warm and dry,
As mud and dirt went flying by,
Quite unaware how nature planned
To lend them all a helping hand

For wombat pouches don't get full
Of dirt and mud as mommies pull,
For mother nature in her wisdom
Looked upon her magic kingdom,
Saw the wombats under ground
And wisely turned their pouches round!
Joe Cole challenge for "Natural Creativity".

Wombats have a pouch for their young.  They also spend a lot of time digging holes, and as they push dirt backwards with their powerful front claws, it would fill any normal pouch.  So mother nature, in her infinite wisdom, reversed the pouch, putting the opening at the back.  If that isn't natural creativity, I don't know what it!

First published 17th Sept 2014, 11:15 AEST.
3.9k · May 2014
The Humble Traveller
Tryst May 2014
The poet is a ponderer
A wordy wizened warrior
Their rhythms revel to reveal
The wonder of a wanderer

Unfurling mighty metaphors
For golden grains on sandy shores
They sail upon a penmanship
Of paper hulls and pencil oars
3.5k · Aug 2014
The Lost Password
Tryst Aug 2014
Load Steam and select old nostalgic pre-purchased game
    You must log into uPlay to play this game

Log into old uPlay account
    Login failed, you should request password reset

Request password reset
    Password reset sent to old email account

Log into old email account.
    Your old email account is now suspended, please contact support

Contact email support
You must have an active subscriber account number to contact support

Contact uPlay to inform them old email address no longer available
    You must log into uPlay to contact uPlay

Create new uPlay account, log in and request old uPlay account details
    You must send us screenshot of your steam account

Log into active email account to upload screenshot
You must add security to this account, please provide a second email address

Provide second email address details
    You must log into second email address to confirm ownership

Log into second email account, confirm security change
    Security confirmed, please log into primary email account

Log into primary email, upload image to uPlay**
    *Please wait for technical assistance ...
I love how digital technology has simplified life, there used to be a time I'd just accept I'd lost that old CD and move on ...

ADDENDUM: support did manage to help restore my account, hoorah!
3.5k · Jul 2014
The Sonnet Sonnet
Tryst Jul 2014
Da Dum Da Dum - melodic sonnet beat,
Ten syllables on each and ev'ry line;
Enough to put the reader fast asleep,
And don't forget the **** thing has to rhyme.
Just fourteen lines exact, no more - no less,
To revel in some tantalising plot;
Two short quatrains endeavour to address,
And introduce the who, the where, the what.
Then just four lines to tell a second tale,
That wends and weaves on some tangential route,
To set the scene that leads to the unveil
As if the reader gives a flaming hoot!
       A rhyming couplet finishes the tryst,
       To hit them with that all important twist!
3.5k · Jun 2015
Beyond The Medusa
Tryst Jun 2015
Abandoning Medusa,
Four hundred boarded boat and raft
As angry storms abused her,
The sandbank held her firm and fast
And each fresh wave might be her last,
So each man went unto his craft
And headed out to sea

I watched her mass still gleaming
In moon's spotlight upon the rocks
And fading as to dreaming,
As oarsmen pulled with cursèd tongues
To take the strain and drag our throngs
That clung to life on floating stocks
Imprisoned by the sea

oh what a sight, to see our raft as laden down as she,
with little boats and fastened ropes to tow her o'er the sea


Men watched for signs of treason,
In fear of those who may decline
To see the light of reason,
And climbing off our haven perch
To strike toward the bobbing lurch
Of boats connected to the line
That towed us o'er the sea

A silver streak went flashing
As blade reflected of the moon
To hew the mooring's lashing;
No longer bound by fetid weight
The oarsmen pulled and with a great
Relief they moved away, and soon
Our raft was lost at sea

with cold dismay, we watched horizon swallow boats with glee,
when all were gone, we stood as one, abandoned to the sea


Clinging to the single mast
And each to each were firmly gripped
As sinking neath the living mass
The makeshift raft that floated free
Was covered by the foaming sea
And each man feared lest if he slipped
He's lost unto the sea

Water covered o'er our waists
And each with barely room to stand,
One hundred fifty doomed to fates
That ne'er a one could yet foresee
As each looked onwards helplessly
To glimpse the hope of promised land
Beyond the raging sea

has any scene more wretchèd been observed I ask of thee?
behold our sight and awful plight, held captive by the sea


For food one barrel only
Of biscuits that was tossed and thrown
Into the frigid roiling sea
And when we pulled it from the waves
Wet biscuits soaked to salted paste
Were swift devoured, and left with none
Our hunger cursed the sea

Our thirst became a torment
With only casks of wine to drink
And all the time to lament
The petty fight that caused the loss
Of all the water sadly tossed
Towards the edge and o'er the brink
Into the vasty sea

our sunburnt skins were blistered, we were hopeless as could be,
we prayed for night until the fright of darkness on the sea


Men turned upon their brothers,
Each fighting for an inch of space
And men screamed for their mothers,
As clubs were swung and axes heaved,
As bones were smashed and heads were cleaved,
And so began our human race
Surviving on the sea

The stench of early morning
Brought retching from the strongest tar
As light from a new dawning
Unveiled the carnage of the scene,
Men dead and dying, limbs hacked clean,
No time would heal the mental scar
Of those still trapped at sea

if you would listen further, I implore your eyes to see
the vision of our hopelessness upon the endless sea


One day passed to another
And every day more men were lost
To hunger or their brother,
And as our numbers swift declined
Starvation ruled most ev'ry mind,
And saw the thing we craved the most
Right there upon the sea

At first it started slowly,
One haggard man with wildling eyes
Took up a blade and boldly,
He carved a piece of rotting flesh
And to a man we held our breath
And watched as he devoured his prize
Upon the ghastly sea

With little hesitation
Some other men took up the lead
And with some trepidation,
I eyed the corpse and followed suit,
Slicing his leg above the boot,
And wolfed it down such was my need
Upon that evil sea

I ask not for forgiveness friend, I offer thee no plea,
You cannot know, you were not there upon that dreadful sea


Yet still my tale has sorrow,
That I have not the heart to tell
So courage I must borrow,
For all should know the tragic deeds
That show the truth, how man succeeds
When placed within the living hell
Of endless days at sea

One quarter turned to madness,
Where midnight waits with bloodied hands
To strike the screaming masses
And feast upon the sick and lame
With flesh prized higher than a name,
We turned with eyes like burning brands
And stared unto the sea

the weak were dead who still drew breath, they knew as well as we,
their lives were owed to pay our debt in homage to the sea


Some thirteen days we lived there
Before we caught the sight of sails
And rescued from our nightmare,
We crept away to wander home
But never can we be alone
Forever watched by wretchèd souls
We left upon the sea

So here my tale is ended,
One hundred fifty went aboard
And fifteen men descended,
Our raft was left to float away
And maybe still it floats today
With hungry souls forever moored
Upon the raging sea
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Raft_of_the_Medusa
3.4k · Jul 2014
Fairy Tale Headlines
Tryst Jul 2014
Headline Story:

Sweet old lady found dead in oven;

Science and Medical:

Prince develops cure for narcolepsy;

Gardening and Leisure:

Giant beanstalk wins first prize;

Duckling takes honors in beauty pageant;

Entertainment:*

Sorcerers apprentice: You're Fired!
3.3k · May 2014
The Good Fairy
Tryst May 2014
On a warm afternoon, in the middle of June
Two lovers were strolling along
Their arms were entwined, they had but one mind
Their hearts both sang the same song

Harold was tall, a handsome young sort
His hair as black as the night
Amy was fair with flowing blonde hair
Her face such a beautiful sight

Together they walked, and excitedly talked
Making plans for their future together
Living in their own home, having kids of their own
With a love that would outlast forever

They walked for a mile, and came to a stile
That neither had seen there before
It led over a fence, into forest so dense
An exciting new place to explore

They trekked through the brush, neither one in a rush
Until they chanced upon an old trail
The wind here was still, Amy felt a slight chill
The air tasted heavy and stale

They continued along, and then heard a strange song
At first they thought it was birds
But as they got nearer, the sound became clearer
And they realized that tune carried words

Upon a pine tree, as small as could be
A fairy was singing a ditty
She fluttered her wings, such translucent things
And she danced looking ever so pretty

In an instant she stopped, her face it looked shocked
And she flew down in front of their track
"What are you doing here?", her voice trembled with fear
"You must leave now and never come back!"

"Whoa there! Who are you? My name's Harold, how'd you do?"
Harold managed a nervous smile
"I'm the Good Fairy" she said, "and the path you now tread
Is closed and has been for a while"

Amy leant on a tree, "It looks open to me
And I really don't think you can stop us
So shoo out of our way, you're spoiling our day
We'd prefer no more of your ruckus!"

The Good Fairy smiled, "Now listen here child!
You'll do as you're jolly well told!"
Amy just snorted, and quickly retorted
"For a small thing you're really too bold!"

"Are you sure of your love? Does it fit like a glove?
Are you certain that he is the one?"
The Good Fairy prodded at Harold and nodded
"If you value your love then begone!"

"Our love is so pure, of that much I'm sure
That nothing could come in between.
So I'll thank you to keep a hold of your beak
You're beastly and ever so mean!"

"Harold, dear boy, you’re not just her toy!
A plaything that she can abuse
You have your own mind, with thoughts that are kind
And brains that you really should use!"

Harold just nodded, then felt his ribs prodded
As Amy gave him a cold stare
"Come along Harold dear, we'll not stay around here
We'll proceed down the trail over there"

The Good Fairy swallowed, and then she just followed
Aware of the danger that was nearing
The path became steeper, as it led them down deeper
Till finally it came to a clearing

In the midst of that wood, an ornate fountain stood
Its clear waters flowed like a stream
They were caught in a basin, carved by a skilled mason
The surface shimmered like a dream

"So this is your secret, and you wanted to keep it!"
Amy gloated with a grin on her face
"Well its ours too to share, and I really don't care
If you don't want us here in this place"

The Good Fairy sighed, "It’s no use, I tried
But you just wouldn't heed my warning
And now you are here, it’s too late I fear
You'll both rue this day in the morning"

Amy laughed boldly and eyed her so coldly
"Silly fairy there's nothing to fear
The water looks pure, of that much I'm sure
So why don't you dare to come near?"

"You don't know the name of this place where you came
You don't understand what's at stake"
The Good Fairy shivered, her wing tips they quivered
"You've made such a dreadful mistake

This fountain is magic, its consequence tragic
It's reflection shows only love's truth
If you think I deceive, and you still don't believe
Take a look and you'll find there your proof"

Amy walked up, to the fountain and took
A long look into that flowing stream
And what she perceived could be scarcely believed
It was Amy but dressed as a Queen

She wore a long gown and a beautiful crown
And was sat on a shiny gold throne
They were toasting her name and proclaiming her fame
But she saw that she wasn't alone

The most wonderful thing, a handsome young King
Who smiled with such love in his eyes
He looked at her kindly, whispered "Come and find me"
Then vanished to Amy's surprise

She was back in the clearing, and Harold was peering
In the waters with a lopsided smile
What he witnessed that day, he never did say
But he stared there for quite a long while

When the trance was complete, Harold stared at his feet
He wouldn't look Amy in the eye
"I need to go" he muttered, "Later, maybe?" he uttered
And was gone with no further goodbye

Amy thought of her King, with the large wedding ring
And the love in his eyes at her sight
She held him in her mind, as she set off to find
The one man whom she knew was just right

The Good Fairy sighed, "So another love died
In pursuit of a love even stronger
Why do folk leave behind, all the love that they find
To go on with the search ever longer?

Can love ever be measured, like something that’s treasured
Can you weigh it upon a fine scale?
Can one ever be sure, that new love will be pure
That it isn't just destined to fail?"

The Good Fairy glanced, at the waters perchance
And her little eyes filled up with tears
The vision she saw was one she'd seen before
And the image still haunted her fears

"The problem we embrace, when we look on that face
The reflection of our own true lover
Is we don't realize, though the fountain never lies
Our true love may perceive yet another"

The Good Fairy left, feeling wholly bereft
And returned to her guard feeling tense
"That’s the fourth time this week", she said wiping her cheek
"Perhaps I should put up a fence?"
3.0k · Aug 2014
Rita's First Adventure
Tryst Aug 2014
Rita was a battery hen
And every day was bleak;
For her, life's stage was just a cage,
And meagre corn her only wage,
But things all changed for Rita when
She learned that she could speak.

She overheard the farmer say
"That cage is getting weak,
That's not just dust, but flakes of rust
And if the hens gave one quick ******
They'd all be free to run away
And we'd be up the creek!"


She waited till the dark of night,
Then pushed into the gaps;
The bars were old, the bars were cold,
It seemed as though the bars would hold,
But Rita shoved with all her might
And felt the cage collapse!

She ran right out the farmyard
In the moonlight, dim and pale;
No more is known of where she's flown,
I hope she found a lovely home,
Perhaps she'll send a greeting card
To tell of her next tale!
For Joe Cole's "Freedom" challenge
3.0k · Feb 2015
The Sea Mistress
Tryst Feb 2015
Harbour lights beckoning
Like saintly haloed will-o-wisps
Annointing ocean mists

Jaded haunting memories
Come surging down with tidal force
And flood all other thoughts:

    "Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     And I love her more than thee"


How oft' those words have plagued me,
How many moons have traced the sky
To fall from high
Reborn to die
And all in vain to answer why
The sea could never save me?

Weary sea-legs greet the dock,
Where once they brought in stoic stance
An end to fair romance

Your eyes were filled with sadness,
Beacons born of hope and kindness
Blinded by my blindness:

    "Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     And I love her more than thee"


Stumbling blind from shore to lea,
From tavern, inn and hotel bar,
I search afar
Of ev'ry tar
To ask of all oh where you are
But nowhere can I find thee?

A young man needs adventure,
Yet all I learned from years at sea
Was all I missed of thee

Has time unwound the wounding
Of hasty words once said with zest
With pride and puffed-out chest:

    "Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     And I love her more than thee"


With all hope driven from me,
I watched a sailor paint a tale
To taint me pale
As he regailed
Of maiden fair and love that failed
And torment that befell thee

Panic wove itself a wreath
Around my heart and pulling tight
It dragged me through the night

From town to shore I stumbled
And there upon the jagged rocks
Espied your ebon locks:

    "Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     And I love her more than thee"


The beauty wrought within thee,
Noble grace and elegant flair
My maiden fair
Beyond compare
With ***** and seaweed in your hair,
What tragedy befell thee?

Translucent as the water,
You turn with sightless eyes to see
And see but thought of me

The sadness and betrayal
Takes harbour in your haunting face
Now anchored in this place:

    "Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     And I love her more than thee"


Through years that passed unkindly,
For all my sins of jealous pride
The truth I hide
From thee inside,
My heart and soul with thee reside
And I have always loved thee

The sea I loved has taken
The destined time we had to share
And thee in thy despair

Oh love my love forgive me,
Upon the sea I held so dear
To you alone I swear:

     *Weep not for me o' mistress,
     Ever my first love was the sea
     But my heart belonged to thee
First published 19th February 2015, 20:00 AEST.
2.9k · Oct 2014
A Small Endeavor
Tryst Oct 2014
His flabbered jowls were hung aghast
Beneath his slobbered liver lips
His bulbous eyes were overcast
By burly brows of stewardship

An overbearing egotist
He stood apart from infidels
Compassion dealt with belt and fist
Disdainful with no parallels

And there upon his lofty dais
In garments fit to drape a throne
He glared with bulbous eyes ablaze
Upon a ragged danger zone

A misbegotten anarchist
Audacious with his sweet implore
To strike a flaming catalyst
Emboldened by his quest for more
"Please Sir, I want some more."
Oliver Twist.

First published 18th October 2014, 22:30 AEST.
2.7k · Oct 2014
Library Murder Mystery
Tryst Oct 2014
"Well Mr Holmes, this is a nasty business!
The victim, Ivor Biggun, has been stabbed!
There was of course no one around to witness
Although a few good suspects have been nabbed!

Miss Sally Forth was reading ancient history
Mike Hindle claims he too was all alone
Miss Daisy Chain was reading a new mystery
And Mr. Terry Bull was on the phone!"

"My dear Lestrade, your blindness is your failing!
Must I point out that awful ****** mess?
The victim clearly crawled, his blood was trailing
And then it seems he played a game of chess!

Look closely at the moves, see what I mean?
The strangest game of chess I've ever seen!"

                    H5-D5
                    C8-C2
    ­                E3-E4
                    F8-C1
                 ­   D8-D1   MATE!


*Who killed Ivor Biggun?
First published 31st October 2014, 17:30 AEST.
2.7k · May 2014
The Devil's Curse
Tryst May 2014
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me,
What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul?
It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter,
Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control;
A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control.

Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning,
Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair;
Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me,
Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare;
Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare?

Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision,
Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell;
Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its
Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell;
It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell.

You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift,
Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder;
Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain,
Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder;
You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder.

Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing,
I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread;
Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow,
For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread;
Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread.

--

What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling,
Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet;
Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry,
Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete;
She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
2.5k · Aug 2015
Dead Man's Hand
Tryst Aug 2015
Quick-draw five card stud
Dealt a bullet on fifth street --
    Full house cashes out.
According to legend, Wild Bill Hickok was murdered whilst holding 2 pairs, aces and eights, in a game of 5 card stud poker.  The remaining card remains a mystery, however given he took an extra bullet to the head, I guess he cashed out with a full house.

"Fifth street" is the term used when the fifth card gets dealt.
A hand with two aces and eights has since been known as the dead man's hand.
2.5k · Aug 2014
A Wonderful Sight
Tryst Aug 2014
"Yoo Hoo! Excuse me!" she said,
Warbling with trepidation,
"I wonder could you help me,
Only I'm blind, you see?"

Her timid voice trailed off,
Lost beneath the majestic roar
Of the waterfall;

"Of course ma'am!" he said,
"Take my arm and pray
Tell me your troubles!"

"Well it's all rather silly," she said,
"But I'm not long now for this
Life, and I so wanted to see,
Or rather, to feel this place again.
I was here as a young girl
You see, and I have such fond memories! 
My guide had to take
An urgent call, and now I'm
Afraid I won't have time for the tour!"

"Tell me," he said, "If I may be
Permitted to ask, were you able
To see when you were here before?"

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed,
"It was the most incredible thing
I've ever seen!  The destructive
Force of nature, an endless torrent
Of foaming waters cascading down
Sheer cliffs, the living color of
Smooth rocks gleaming in the sunlight,
And oh so many rainbows
Blazing in the spray, Sir I could
Imagine no place more wondrous,
More beautiful!"

"Well then," he said excitedly,
"You'll be pleased to know it
Hasn't changed a bit!"

"Oh thank you, thank you!"
She said, hugging him tightly,
"You've made an old woman very happy!"

The guide returned and he bade them
A fond farewell, and then another
Woman approached him.

"Well there you are darling," she said,
I've been looking for you everywhere!
I've found a guide who specialises
In narrated tours for the blind,
Are you ready?"

He looked at her with unseeing eyes
And smiled, "There's no need my love,"
He said, "I've already seen it and
It's the most beautiful place in the world,
And I want to remember it
Exactly the way I do right now!"
2.4k · Jan 2015
Elements of Me
Tryst Jan 2015
earth* borne, on
water drifted;
fire reborn, on
air uplifted
2.3k · Jan 2015
John's Tall Tale
Tryst Jan 2015
Dashing hither, dashing thither,
Dashing in the winter weather,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a hat upon his head

Not some lace cap fit for ladies,
Nor a bonnet stitched for babies,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a top hat there instead!

Never had a hat so fine,
So tall and silken, so refined,
Regaled upon the daily grind
Of prince or pauper in the Strand

Ladies stalled to see it's lustre,
Swooned and swayed before it's bluster,
Fell and fainted in a fluster,
Startled by a hat so grand!

Children screamed in dreadful fright
And yelping dogs began to bite
As crowds began to brawl and fight
And riots claimed the London street

In the chaos thus ensuing,
Folks began to run, pursuing
John the dashing haberdasher
Chasing him from Strand to Fleet!

John was taken to the prison,
Chided by the crowds derision,
There to wait the Mayor's decision
On his wanton heinous crime

Charged with breaching lawful peace,
He paid a fine for his release
And ordered to desist and cease,
He left his top hat well behind

Thus is told the tale of John
Who dared to bravely dash and don
A silken top hat high upon
His noble head in London town

Heed his tale and take this warning,
When you wake one winter morning
With desire to be less boring,
Careful how you dress that crown!
Poem based on an event that occurred this day in history.
John Hetherington, a London haberdasher, is reported to be the first person to wear a top hat, this event occurring on the 15th January 1797.  The event caused a riot with women fainting at the sight, children screaming and dogs yelping.  He was forced to pay a £500 bond for breach of the peace.

First published 15th January 2015, 06:20 AEST.
2.2k · Jan 2015
Blessings Upon Thee
Tryst Jan 2015
Oh father dear, petrarchan patriarch,
Thy gifted words of thy divinity
Portray the depth of thine own trinity,
And blessed are we who know thy craftsman's mark

And Blessed Are Thee, Thy Daughter Marian,
Who Walks In Beauty Like The Bright Sunlight
Where Flowers Grow And Faeries Do Delight
To Dance In Summer Glade and Autumn Glen

And Hilda, blessed are thee and all that's thine,
The gloom of shadowed valley thou has known
Yet love and life shall ever be thine own,
Oh blessed are thee and all thou holds divine

For thee, thy Hilda and thy Marian,
My blessings always and anon,

                         Amen.
A humble response to "Tribute Sundry: Tryst"
By Timothy: http://hellopoetry.com/timothy/
2.2k · Jun 2016
Our Divisive Hearts
Tryst Jun 2016
Friends with benefits,
Parted by the sea --
Love without deficits?
Mais oui!
People can still love one another without living together.
2.1k · Jul 2018
The Virgin Moon
Tryst Jul 2018
And like a bride when all the guests had flown –
Unto her Quarter Master, veil upraised
And corsage strewn atop her lily gown,
The ****** MOON stood humble and unphased

A boon of SUN's light nestled in her tresses,
And HEAVEN's gift, bright star-born chandeliers –
COUTURIER, The Wind, bestowed caresses –
CENTAURUS brought an honour guard of spears

The MOON, her dimples pale, her mood unblemished,
Fell silent as a petal on a flower –
Her slender frame looked ever the more diminished
And wanton as she lay upon her bower

She watched the constellations rearranging
To mark this passing day across the skies,
And full aware that things were ever changing
The MOON laid down her guard and closed her eyes.
2.0k · Apr 2016
Giles "Salem" Corey
Tryst Apr 2016
In pressing times truth oft' lies so oppressed
And falsehoods rouse to speak in joyed debate
That burdens brought to bear upon the breast
Might anchor nought but will of one testate

What courage leant upon a graven guest
Not thrift of fear in bearing of his fate
But silent as all untruths so expressed,
Except to cry with cursed tongue, "More weight!"
Giles Corey was executed via "Pressing" during the Salem Witch Trials on September 19th 1692 at the age of 81.  He refused to enter any plea against the charges of witchcraft, as was his legal right.
Entering a plea meant he could be tried in court and if found guilty, all of his estate would be forfeit to the crown.
By not entering a plea his assets could be passed to his children.  To prevent people from using this legal loophole, the law allowed a person to be "Pressed".  This involved the person being stripped, having a large plank placed upon their chest, and then large rocks piled on top of the plank to slowly crush the chest, until a plea is entered or until death occurs.  Giles endured his torture for two days before succumbing, only ever crying out "More weight!" when asked for his plea.
1.9k · May 2014
Leontichus and Rhadine
Tryst May 2014
"Come, thou clear-voiced Muse, Erato, begin thy song, voicing to the tune of thy lovely lyre the strain of the children of Samos." (Stesikhoros, C7th-6th B.C.)*

Upon a dim and distant telling,
Fared a maid of noble dwelling;
Rhadine was so beautiful,
Her suitors fought to claim her hand.

Unbeknownst, her father sold her
To a vile old tyrant soldier;
Rhadine sobbed, but dutiful
She boarded ship to foreign land.

Leontichus, her secret lover,
Swore an oath that he'd recover
Rhadine from the tyrant's grip;
He took the task of a deck-hand.

Many moons would find him weeping,
Ever watchful, never sleeping,
Till the day his mighty ship
Reached distant shore of foreign land.

Leontichus planned and conspired;
Cunning schemes would see him hired,
In the palace of the tyrant,
Where he could be close at hand.

There he watched, and there he waited,
As the nobles congregated
For the wedding, where defiant
Rhadine stood on foreign land.

Songs were sung and vows were spoken,
Then the tyrant brought a token,
Glinting in the bright sunlight
He offered it to Rhadine's hand.

Leontichus was gripped in sadness,
Taken by a sudden madness,
Running forth to save her plight,
He held Rhadine on foreign land.

Anger swept the tyrant's features,
Ridiculed by worthless creatures!
Taking sword, its sharp edge keen
He ran them through with his own hand.

As they lay there, deathly dying,
Midst the nobles, wailing, crying,
Leontichus held his Rhadine
And there they passed on foreign land.

The tyrant ordered their remains
Should scatter over hills and plains,
He placed them on a chariot,
And sent it with no guiding hand.

Late that night when all were sleeping,
Still the tyrant's eyes were weeping,
Knowing he could tarry not,
He ordered search of foreign land.

Days had passed when news arrived,
The chariot had still survived;
A soldier brought it to his door,
And placed the reigns into his hand.

The two were buried side by side,
Their hands were clasped, their arms entwined,
And there they rest forever more,
Two lovers lost on foreign land.

Leontichus and his Rhadine,
The greatest love the world has seen,
True lovers laying hand in hand,
Forever lost on foreign land.
1.9k · Apr 2015
A Farewell Serenade
Tryst Apr 2015
Bedeck the band and play a merry tune
The debutante desires her maiden dance
A farewell serenade beneath the moon

She's drifting like a Sunday afternoon
Each lazy sway a restful rhythmic trance
Bedeck the band and play a merry tune

Encircling suitors pack around and soon
She gleans the grating of each nervous glance:
"A farewell serenade beneath the moon?"

She casts them all aside her heart immune
To each until one voice, one piercing lance:
"Bedeck the band and play a merry tune!"

She falters and her bold facade is hewn
And nodding shyly greets his cold advance:
"A farewell serenade beneath the moon!"

Embracing him her heart begins to swoon
A maiden sunken at her first romance;
Bedeck the band and play a merry tune
A farewell serenade beneath the moon
In memory of RMS Titanic, which sank April 15th 1912.

See also my sonnet of 2014: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/694219/the-ice-maiden/

"Many brave things were done that night, but none were more brave than those done by men playing minute after minute as the ship settled quietly lower and lower in the sea. The music they played served alike as their own immortal requiem and their right to be recalled on the scrolls of undying fame." (Lawrence Beesley, Survivor, RMS Titanic, 1912).
1.9k · Apr 2015
Brothers In Arms
Tryst Apr 2015
The peace and goodwill
Of Christmas -- Pitch invasion
At final whistle.
1.9k · Sep 2014
Old Dance Mistress
Tryst Sep 2014
The blazing eyed old matriarch
Stands vigil o'er her clutch;

Two bodies sway to rhythmic march,
Yet never dare to touch.
First published 20th Sept 2014, 09:00 AEST
1.8k · May 2014
The Last Dance
Tryst May 2014
Seven minutes to midnight
The New Year’s Eve party in full swing
How stunning you look in that red dress
Our friendship of many years is about to fail
Funny how one moment can change everything
My heart pounding, I feel like a mess
Our courtship playing out on a global scale

Six minutes to midnight
My mind is racing, and I begin to perspire
You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen
Why you chose to dance with me, I'll never know
Thoughts of what may come sets my heart on fire
I always secretly hoped you may be keen
And now the world waits for us to put on a show

Five minutes to midnight
Uncertainty begins to cloud my every thought
Perhaps I misread all of the signs
What if the whole thing is only in my head
I remember the times when we bickered and fought
Sometimes I read too much between the lines
All confidence gone, my feet turn to lead

Four minutes to midnight
I watch, mesmerized by your swaying hips
My soul is filled with joy by your laughing eyes
How could I ever doubt the way you feel
We move together and now I become transfixed
Reflections in a mirror, our bodies synchronize
My deepest hopes and dreams finally becoming real

Three minutes to midnight
The pace and tone of the music intensifies
We dance as one, never missing a single beat
Our arms moving together in perfect time
My stomach churns, full of butterflies
I never knew anyone could be so sweet
To think, in a few moments you could be mine

Two minutes to midnight
My ears fill with the sound of my thudding heart
As though a million men were marching nearby
Surely you can hear its deafening roar
We've both waited a long time to play our part
Now the time approaches when our love can fly
I wonder why we never thought to do this before

One minute to midnight
Standing precariously at the edge of the abyss
One wrong step and we both might tumble
But we've come too far now to walk away
As the seconds count down, I begin to reminisce
Recalling the friendship that's about to crumble
The whole world will always remember today

Midnight*
In a sea of red, balloons falling from the sky
Our arms finally embrace, as midnight chimes
Your intoxicating perfume fills me with bliss
All men should feel this way before they die
As the band begins to play Auld Lang Syne
I whisper a silent prayer, and we kiss ...
1.8k · Sep 2014
Those Bloodied Stairs
Tryst Sep 2014
I saw you saw me on the stair
I saw you saw you too

I saw you saw me on the stair
I saw you saw me thru'

I saw you saw you on the stair
I saw you saw me too

I saw you saw you on the stair
I saw you saw you thru'

I saw you saw upon the stair
One saw we two in two
First published 24th September 2014, 20:30 AEST.
1.8k · Aug 2014
Drunkards n Dipsomaniacs
Tryst Aug 2014
Player:

    "Where the hell am I?"

DM:

    *"Precisely!"
1.7k · Sep 2014
Empty Whisky Bottle
Tryst Sep 2014
Sunken eyes mourned
The death of another,

Parched tongue warmed
By the birth of his brother.
First published 19th Sept 2014, 23:20 AEST
1.7k · Dec 2014
Christmas Night Shift
Tryst Dec 2014
She walks on duty, through the night
Of coughing calls and sleepless sighs
And in the dim and pallid light
She stalks the ward with drooping eyes;
Thus patients rest within her sight
Which keeps them safe from their demise

One patient more, one break the less,
As frantic hands prepare the space
Which someone left in such a mess
So now she works at twice the pace
Whilst hiding signs of inner stress
With grimaced smile upon her face

And on that bed, and in the throe,
A deathly pale old patient went;
She held his hand and mopped his brow
His weary angel, heaven sent;
His vital signs began to grow
As she collapsed, her goodness spent.
Based on Lord Byron's superb poem.
1.7k · Sep 2014
Rita's Mystery Guest
Tryst Sep 2014
Rita heard the doorbell go
A-DANG-A-****-A-DING!
She put aside her favorite book
And ran outside to take a look,
But at the door, well wouldn't you know
She didn't find a thing!

She went inside and sat down
And then it went again,
A-DING-A-****-A-****-A-DANG!
The doorbell chimed, the door bell rang,
She ran outside and looked around
But once again in vain!

Rita felt so very cross,
"I've had enough!" she said!
Instead of rushing back inside
She looked for somewhere she could hide
And found a patch of comfy moss
And made herself a bed!

It wasn't long when Rita heard
A-DING-A-DANG-A-****!
And there upon a fluttered wing,
A hummingbird began to sing,
Such beauty in his trilling words
That Rita joined the song!

When the chimes came to an end,
The hummingbird looked glum;
He gave the bell a mighty clang,
The door bell rang, and then he sang!
And Rita laughed at her new friend,
She'd never had such fun!

Smiling still, she went indoors
To read the next few lines;
Short-lived was her tranquility,
And solitude was not to be!
She giggled as he played once more
Those humming door bell chimes!
For the Joe Cole "TRANQUILITY and SOLITUDE" challenge.
1.7k · Apr 2015
Candles and Cows
Tryst Apr 2015
Ill-gotten knave!  Thy witless candle burns
Bright as a baboon's ****!  Thy gnarlèd brows
Greet, meet and mingle like the wildling ferns
And thy breath turns and churns insides of cows!
Thou stompest me? Ha! Bring thy brothers all,
Beneath my steely boot thou shall be trod!
Dust be thy supper, feast upon thy fall,
Eat hearty of thy just deserted sod!
Thou comest hither with thy merry folk,
Thou japes a merry jest upon my kin?
Thy bandy leggèd jiggery a joke,
To spilleth of mine cup is thine own sin!
        If thou be not afraid, let thee not hide,
        My gauntlet speaks! Will thou comest outside?
I may have been drinking when I wrote this...(hic!)
1.7k · Sep 2014
A Damsel, Fair
Tryst Sep 2014
A damsel, fair with braided hair,
Her beauty wild beyond compare,
Came bustling to the summer faire,
Her petticoats a-flowing;

She settled there, upon a chair
And watched the young men stop and stare,
But none of them would dare to dare
To coax her with a-wooing;

In her despair, she gasped for air,
No one it seemed would know or care,
Her beauty hid a deep despair
That she was not a-showing

And unaware how to declare
The secrets that she dare not share,
The damsel left to who knows where,
And no one is a-knowing

How came a damsel quite so rare,
With beauty fair and braided hair,
Alone with no one's love to share,
Her petticoats a-flowing
First published 9th Sept 2014, 23:00 AEST.
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