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440 · May 2014
Looks Could Kill
Tryst May 2014
Steam-powered pistons,

Untightened,

And Shivering,

Moving in winter

Fashion
439 · Jul 2014
Every Little Thing
Tryst Jul 2014
Tho' I should chance on every golden grain
Of sand ensconced on every ocean floor,
And know the touch of every drop of rain
That ever fell, or e'er will ever fall;

Tho' I should visit every garden, grown
With flowers wrought in every spectral shade,
And learn the name of all that e'er was sown
In every bed of every hidden glade;

Tho' I should gaze up high above the Earth
At every star that lights the evening sky,
And tell the tale of each and every birth
And when and how and why each one will die;

Tho' I should see all that was e'er to see -
There's naught, my love, that e'er compares to thee.
438 · Jul 2014
Ins and Outs
Tryst Jul 2014
I'm just a little introverted,
Which is not to say perverted,
But I'm really quite concerted,
To retain my energy

Now I know you're extroverted,
And it’s clear that you've asserted,
That you wish I'd be converted,
But that isn't good for me

Our natural state is just inverted,
To great throngs I'm quite averted,
And I'd rather be diverted,
To a quiet place you see?

So please don’t think I've subverted,
If you think I'll be inserted,
Into crowds, you're controverted,
Now please kindly leave me be!
438 · Sep 2014
That Magic Feeling
Tryst Sep 2014
Where is it,
The magic button?

You text me,
I get a fix

You call me,
I get a fix

If you smiled from within an
Hermetically sealed room,
I'd get a fix

This high doesn't come from you,
This high isn't yours to give,
It's mine

A chemical reward from
Some prehistoric pathways,
Deciding you were the one

If I can find the magic button,
I can fix myself

Because you left me,
*You left me broken.
437 · Jul 2014
The Darkest Nights
Tryst Jul 2014
An ode for thee, lovelorn poets,
With tender hearts, tattered,
Torn asunder by those
Unworthy of your love;

Were you born from the bedrock
Of unrequited dreams, struck
Upon poetry's sweet kindling,
Alighting your inner lantern?

Or was your heart always so pure,
So unblemished, that no other
Could ever hope to find purchase
Upon its perfect form?

Alas, that poets must endure
The sorrows of love's envy,
With lanterns blazing brightly
Through the darkest nights.
435 · Apr 2015
A Wedding Vow
Tryst Apr 2015
Upon my life, upon my soul,
On everything that I hold dear,
For love of thee, my only goal,
To keep thee from a life austere

I swear to love, and love thee whole,
I swear to hold and keep thee near,
To guide thy hand as we two stroll
And keep thee safe from living fear

I cannot hope, but hope to see,
And keep thee safe in wedded bliss;
To make our vows in sanctity,
Upon the edge of loves abyss

Thy love, my love, gifted to me
When all the world has gone amiss,
Our pledge unto our family,
We seal it with a loving kiss.
Loosely based on the Constanza.  The poem consists of two parts.  The first appears as written.  The second is found by reading the first line of each stanza, then the second line of each, and so on, until four new stanza's have been revealed.
432 · Jul 2015
Ode To Vincent
Tryst Jul 2015
Bare boards and whitewashed walls are canvas made
For palette, born of starlight, born of stars
To paint the night, her shadows and her shade,
Where fingers stretch to reach beyond the bars;
Sad blinking eyes accustomed to the gloom
Reflect on light and life, reflect the night
That fills the mind as darkness fills a room,
That pilfers hope as blindness pilfers sight;
How silent is the bird song on the air?
Their mute lament that revels in despair.


Look East to gaze upon low rolling hills
Awash with midnight blue, a gentle hue
That gleams the more for taken tiny pills;
Look East to see the old, to see anew
Each folded band, each friendly contoured shape
That undulating, sweeps down mountain side
To drape horizon with majestic cape
And paint the world as water paints a void;
How flightless are the birds upon the ground?
Their useless wings that fail to make a sound.


Look down beneath the hills unto the square,
Perfection of a frame within a frame
Where many ears are waved without a care,
Where wheat is grown and reaped and sown again;
Look down upon the cypress border fence
That guards the golden realm within a realm,
Enter that inner world of wild pretense
That threatens to consume and overwhelm;
How woeful are the birds among the wheat?
Their hunger grows and yet they do not eat.


Explore that inner space, that magic place
Where thought is real and real is but a thought,
Where dreams are born to die without a trace,
Explore to see the lies that eyes have bought;
Look down upon the wild and bustling town
That sits beneath the hill, with busy lights
That paint the scene with colors yet unknown
And lift the world to fresh imagined heights;
How distant are the birds that wander here?
Their loneliness relentless with its fear.


Look high above the world into the night
Where palette, born of starlight, born of stars
May tempt a soul to soar in endless flight
Beyond the room, beyond cold iron bars;
Look high to see the bold untainted white
That holds the key to every color born,
Behold her ****** sweet unsullied light,
A Goddess Venus, solemn and forlorn;
How can a man behold one such as thee
Yet be content to live a mortal man?
A soul must learn to fly, yearn to be free,
To reach the stars, to be all that it can!
Yet here for all the yearning, all the dreams,
For all the numbered nights that counted stars,
Long nights awake to wonder what it means
Forever trapped behind these iron bars,
A soul has learned that even artistry
That elevates a man to greatest heights
Can not unbind the chains and misery
Of one condemned to live a mortal life.
*How thoughtless are the birds without a care?
Sometimes I wonder if they're really there.
430 · May 2014
Oh Wondrous Light
Tryst May 2014
Oh wondrous light, enrapturing my eyes,
Reflecting from her sweet and gentle form;
Do you deceive and trick me with your lies,
To break my heart, and leave my soul forlorn?
No maiden now, or e'er has looked so fair,
Her warm soft skin, her eyes begot with jewels,
Her countenance refined beyond compare,
Oh wondrous light, you take us all for fools!
Should I believe the image you portray,
This beauty on the canvas of my mind?
Her portrait ever hung on proud display,
Where I alone can ever hope to find;
        If she could see her light the way I do,
        She'd know my love for her is always true
430 · Jul 2018
A Tainted Page
Tryst Jul 2018
The Avon Bard served to inspire
Young Keats unto his Bright Star sonnet

The sea took Shelley to his pyre,
Bestowed with words of Keats upon it

Yet Keats wet not the widow's eye,
Nor counted clocks that tell the time

Yet Shelley drew no Bright Star nigh,
Nor flowered a tale more sweet than rhyme

So why I ask would any poet
Claim unto them another's craft?

If thou has not the wit to show it,
Pray, keep thine own words saved as Draft.
It saddens me to see the work of others copied without reference to the original, especially here, and especially when so many offer words of congratulations and encouragement to someone with no skills beyond google/copy/paste.
430 · Mar 2016
Farewell Old Man
Tryst Mar 2016
Let mason's mark not be aught told of thee
When time the griever weeps upon thy mound,
All livelong deeds like boughs unto the tree
Bring life to roots laid low in hallowed ground.
No!  Let thy mark be made in shadows cast
To wilt the weeds that clamber for thy heights,
Withered tendrils may writhe to gape aghast
And fall ashen to flames thy name ignites!
All men are named yet name makes not the man
And deedless men no time should be afforded;
Yet scribes will bridge the void to tell thy span
And song will keep thy life and deed recorded.
        Oh children yet unmade rejoice thy fame
        May deeds live on eternal in thy name!
425 · Aug 2018
Happily Ever After
Tryst Aug 2018
In life’s Fairytale,
Happily Ever After
Always hides Dragons
424 · Oct 2018
In Your Bed
Tryst Oct 2018
The monsters in this world
Look just like you and me;
They walk free on the earth
Despising all they see,
And if you could look deep,
Look deep within their soul,
Then you would find they keep
The goodness that they stole

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

The newspapers report
And glorify their game,
A beast no one has caught
With some god awful name,
And if you could but feel
And feel the way they do,
Where nothing seems quite real,
They're empty thru and thru

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

Three children found today,
Too gruesome to describe,
They went outside to play,
They used to be alive,
And someone somewhere knows
The shoe-prints in the mud,
And somewhere someone throws
The weapon caked in blood

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?
420 · Jun 2014
The Unfinished Work
Tryst Jun 2014
Oh my, the deadline looms and here I sit
With parchment still unblemished, drying ink
Upon the freshly sharpened quill; my wit
Abandons me, the mind declines to think!
The hero comes from Greece? Or was it Rome?
He quests to seek the something something? ****!
Or maybe he’s attempting to get home?
NO! NO! He’s not a bleating little lamb!
Of course! A dusky maiden, she’ll be caught
In some forsaken dungeon / castle? Nice!
And after all his enemies are fought
The hero saves the day and we rejoice!
        Oh ****, my hero still requires a name;
        Da dum da dum ... I think I'll call him Dwayne!
416 · Sep 2014
Story of You
Tryst Sep 2014
Virtual strangers, with a passion
Not for fashion, but the dangers
Of sharing desire, secrets kept
In the depths arising to transpire
Into words scrawled upon the stage
Of the poets page; once you crawled
From the unknown into the bright lights
And dizzying heights, and fully grown
You have emerged to offer up ideas
And ideals, encouraging through words
Those just taking their first poetic steps,
Mere children and yet, great poets in the making.
First published 16th Sept 2014, 10:00 AEST.
413 · Dec 2016
Wherefore Your Silver
Tryst Dec 2016
Wherefore your silver waters wend,
From glistening pools 'neath hair and brow,
O'er salt-rocked cheeks down to descend
In rivulets, to bend, to flow
Past crescent lips, downtrod, forlorn,
Till now was then, till night 'comes morn?

I weep for songs no voices sang,
I weep for blood-soaked fields,
Where hammers fell, steel on steel rang,
Where lay forgotten shields.
I weep for youth naively bent
To wrest a far off plain,
To suffer pangs of graves intent,
To ne'er come home again.


Wherefore the youth of yesteryear
In vain to wrest a far off plain
When flourished crops abounded near,
When maiden lips bore still their name?
Wherefore a far off plain be bought
With youth when youth so dearly sought?

In legends kindled round the hearth
Was youthful spirit born,
To furl the plough that tilled the earth,
To sound the battle horn,
And off to wrest a far off plain
From kindred sons as yore,
And thence to go e'er to remain
On some forgotten shore.


Wherefore the hearth-struck legends told
When youthful mirth abounds the fire?
Wherefore the songs wove bright as gold
To quicken youth with lusts desire?
Wherefore desire to wrest a plain
Won, lost, anon, won, lost again?

*From eyes where silver waters wend
To flourish seed as rain,
From withered heart where thoughts descend
To bring unending pain,
From hope and fear and love and hate
I'll sing an old refrain,
And youth will go unto its fate
On some forgotten plain.
410 · Apr 2019
Toll of Life
Tryst Apr 2019
This toll of life?  Tis not of years
And youthful cloth outgrown,
Nor failing eyes dulled in arrears
For sleep they might have known —

Tis in the heart the toll is paid
With weight of love ungiven,
And foolish is the heart afraid
To seek on Earth for Heaven.
403 · Jul 2014
Old Pipe Tune
Tryst Jul 2014
He played third twang in a rubber band,
His hair was mottled green;
He'd dance a jig to an old pipe tune,
And entertain with a croaking croon,
And tho' you searched o'er every land,
His like you've never seen.

His hat was strung with fairy lights,
His cloak was skin and bone;
He'd stamp and stomp as the pipe tune played,
And folks would cheer every move he made,
And tho' you searched the endless nights,
His like you've never known.

Oh he played third twang in a rubber band,
And tho' you searched o'er every land,
You would find no man of skin and bone,
His like you've ever known.
402 · Feb 2022
Lest We Forget
401 · Apr 2018
A Sleeping Child
Tryst Apr 2018
To deny death brings no solace,
To defy death brings no peace,
To accept death bears no malice,
To embrace death heals no grief.
401 · Aug 2014
My Earth Angel
Tryst Aug 2014
Hell has no torment
Like the Heavenly angel
Who fell to Earth
And stole my foolish heart
400 · Nov 2016
Quest for Reason
Tryst Nov 2016
And thou did ask, and lo I brung
A bullish thing, nonsensical,
And thou discarded e'er too long
My gift, inconsequential;

Why ask me for to fetch for thee
A thing thou found detestable?
Thou know'st I pander aught for thee,
Yet treat me as divestable.
Being the seventh...
400 · Apr 2019
Lady of Paris
Tryst Apr 2019
LADY, born for Heaven's gate,
Thy nation to inspire —
Alas that thou did immolate
Atop thy self-same pyre

LADY, borne from ashen grate,
Thy nation shall aspire
To gift to thee thy heavenly trait
And raise thee ever higher
397 · Jul 2014
The Forest Heart
Tryst Jul 2014
Proud forest heart, in earthly shackles bound,
So high you climb to reach above your kin,
To know first morning breath upon your skin,
Beholding nature's beauty all around;
Safe harbour to the passing migrant birds,
Alighting on your limbs and so to rest,
And some will call you home and build a nest,
Your envy of their freedom has no words;
For they can journey to the forest edge,
To touch upon the beauty that you seek,
Her endless heights, her snowy covered peak,
For her alone your heart will truly pledge;
        Yet through your heartache, dreaming sets you free,
        To soar on high from where you'll always be.
Tryst Oct 2014
~
Away to feel the ocean breeze

Away to sail on open seas

Away today, away to stay

Away away, I bid good day

Au revoir dear friends

Farewell to you

Till journeys end

I say adieu!

~
Cruising is the one time when I deliberately avoid all internet communications ... I hope to find time to write in between eating, drinking and sleeping! x
393 · May 2014
Need To Know
Tryst May 2014
A blighted tome lies hidden -- He who seeks
Enlightenment, or yet may on a whim
Pursue to find the secret that it keeps,
Be warned that there upon it’s vellum skin,
In silvered lines and swirls, the epitaph
And reckoned days of mortals; those once heard,
Now seen, or yet to feel; each trodden path
Foreshadowed, from the womb unto interred --
Would knowing of your winter cull the woe
Of knowing that your summer is too short?
Would spring be wasted waiting on the snow,
And autumn shade diminish in your thought?
        Before you seek, be sure you wish to find,
        For secrets learned may yet torment your mind.
393 · Oct 2014
Rise and Fall
Tryst Oct 2014
Beyond beyond the battle cries
Beyond the crumbled walls
Beyond the stony battlements
Where banners rise and soldiers fall
Where bloodied men will weep and call
For gods and mothers at their sides
Where men fight brave and brave men die
Beyond beyond the crumbled walls
Where empires rise and fall

Beyond beyond the carrion flies
Beyond the crumbled halls
Beyond the crimson flooded moat
Where swordsmen clash and hammers ring
Where steel on steel will flash and sing
For gods, for country, lords and king
Where brave men fight and brave men fall
Beyond beyond the crumbled halls
Where empires rise and fall
First published 8th October 2014, 21:20 AEST.
389 · Jul 2014
All Good Things
Tryst Jul 2014
When all the mountains of the world
Have crumbled into the sea
And thrown the waves upon the land
In a stormy tsunami

When all the thunders in the sky
Have rumbled over the plains
And flooded all the living lands
With torrents of lurid rains

When all the stars that light the night
Have tumbled down below
And crashed and cratered on the Earth
To lose their fiery glow

When all the angels Heaven sent
Have fumbled down from grace
And losing immortality
Have vanished without a trace

When all good things from Heaven to Earth
Have waxed their final wanes
The love I had for you my love
Will be all that remains
385 · Nov 2014
Old and New
Tryst Nov 2014
An ode to thee, fine masters of thy craft

    "Oh great, just what we need, another bloomin' sonnet!"

Excuse me friend, why does thou so intrude?

    "Can't you write something contemporary for a change?"

Perchance for you the sonnet's days are past?

    "Hmmm yeah, like a hundred years out of date!"

Perchance I think my friend is somewhat rude!

    "Perhaps YOU should try writing something modern!"

Does thou not like the rhythmic sonnet beat?

    "Too dull for words, try free style for once"

Does thou not like the couplets formed in rhyme?

    "
Oooh lets see ... Heart ... Apart ... Love ... Dove...!"

Does thou not like the sweet iambic feet?

    "I'd prefer to chop them off and make you eat them!"

Does thou not think the whole thing sounds divine?

    "If I never hear another one, it will be too soon!"

But friend, your modern style, it has no rules?

    "That's what makes it so utterly brilliant!"

No need for beat, for rhythm, or for rhyme?

    "Yup, you can literally write anything!"

So those of us who choose to rhyme are fools?

    "You said it pal, not me!"

Through all these years we've just wasted our time?

    "Consider it a learning experience!"

So rhyme and meter, these are not allowed?

    "EVERYTHING is allowed, no rules remember!"

Then modern sonnet writers can be proud!

    *"Eh?  What?  No, I didn't mean ... oh ... **** ..."
Contemporary poetry is the set of all poetry styles, as it has no rules to exclude any of them.

First published 7th November 2014, 09:10 AEST.
384 · May 2014
At Dawn's Request
Tryst May 2014
Her fabric wove from finest silken thread
Imbued with strands of sweet capricious fate,
Her footfalls echo sounds that mortals dread
As onwards, with her ne’er unchanging gait,
Since dawn awoke her with a small request
To witness all that was, and that will be,
She's journeyed forth with ne’er a pause to rest
And on anon she runs eternally --
Would that I could contrive to halt her stride,
Unwinding threads to weave another song
And meeting self, could overcome his pride,
Relating how and where he got it wrong --
        Should good advice from him be mine to take,
        I fear my doom, to live the same mistake.
384 · Jul 2014
An After Thought
Tryst Jul 2014
Residing there on long forgotten shelves,
Down disused aisles in basements dark and dank;
Neath libraries where books can write themselves,
Where endless quills and ink pots scrawl and clank.
A dusty tome, it's cover worn with age,
Withered corners, dog-eared, blunt and battered;
Adventures told on every fading page,
Some folded down to mark the days that mattered.
A life, as told in some biography,
The tale of one who lived and loved and died,
Their name now long consigned to history,
One book that keeps their story safe inside.
        An epilogue: Lest anyone forgets -
        The subject of this tale had no regrets.
381 · Jul 2018
Love Is Intangible
Tryst Jul 2018
LOVE is intangible, it has no taste,
You cannot touch it, hold it, let it go —
It does not spoil, nor ever go to waste —
It does not float, nor sink, nor ebb and flow —

Love cannot be sleight conjured from the air —
It is not sold in bottles, nor in jars —
Love has no weight the bearer has to bear
And cannot be constrained in any vase —

Yet all who loved have bent beneath Love's weight —
Know well its touch and taste, and bear its scar —
And know Love cannot die, but dissipate
As light escapes the clutches of a star —

LOVE is intangible, a force unseen —
As wild as wind, as lucid as a dream.
380 · Sep 2014
Rise Above It
Tryst Sep 2014
Time and again
He was told

"Just rise above it"

And so
Time and again
He did

Going higher
Higher, and
Higher

Until one day, he reached the
Upper limits of his
Courage

And with still
No end in sight

*He fell
371 · Jul 2014
The Fiddler's Tune
Tryst Jul 2014
Fondly I recall the sweet music of her heartbeat
Each soft note a delicate rose from my love's bouquet
Cavorting through my bones, cajoling my restless feet
To tap out melancholy tones on our hallowed day

My slender fingers grasp the neck, caressing gently
Feeling the touch of each solitary strand of hair
As strings vibrate beneath bow, and in that empty
Place, among those standing stones, I play a mournful air

The doleful melody stirs movement, and as the tune
Tempo rises, they too rise to heed their fiddlers call
From earths moist darkness into light of a crimson moon
They clamber gleefully to join this macabre midnight ball

My fingers blur as the dancers waltz between the stones
Faces full of mirth and laughter, how wildly they grin
Their fetid rags hang loose, stately robes that adorned thrones
Now in tatters, once buxom wenches haggard and thin

A farmer still wearing a half-eaten smock, firemen
In uniforms with dull brass buttons, an orphan lass
Clutching her headless doll; for each there was a time when
Their roles had meaning, no thought of when that time would pass

Now they are as one, each with a stone and earthy bed
The rich and the poor, through sickness and ill health
All must dance to the fiddlers tune when life has been shed
All must dance regardless of earthly power or wealth

Even I am not immune to the passing of time
And when I hear the rooster greeting first morning light
My tempo slows, and dancers leave once more to recline
Beneath stones, to await my tune on some hallowed night
Based on "Danse Macabre"
371 · Nov 2018
Censored Crossword Clues
Tryst Nov 2018
A *** of earl grey             -- Clay container (3)
Is the *****, they say,       -- Inclined lea (5)
From unrighteous ***     -- Turf retainer (3)
To the hand of ***.          -- Deity (3)
371 · Aug 2018
I Sometimes Grieve
Tryst Aug 2018
The light my eyes receive
Reflecting of your face
That aids me to perceive
Each imperfected grace

Has had to wend and weave,
Though at tremendous pace,
Through airs that interleave
Our intervening space

And so I sometimes grieve
That I can but retrace
The beauty I believe
No time would dare efface.
370 · Jul 2014
The Open-air Library
Tryst Jul 2014
At the center of the city,
Resting in honored place,
Stands the open-air library;

Buried within these low walls,
Row upon row of hefty tombs,
Filled with knowledge and wisdom;

Visitors speak in hushed tones,
Children must be silent,
No dogs allowed;

No sound or sign of joy
Permitted in this hallowed place,
Lest the fallen leaves be disturbed;

The air is often heavy
With dark clouds roaming,
And rain falls frequently;

If only the library
Could be more like the park,
Full of life and laughter;

People talking freely,
Children playing,
Dogs chasing tennis *****;

More people would visit,
And those dusty old tombs
Needn't be quite so lonely.
370 · Jul 2014
Asking for Trouble?
Tryst Jul 2014
-

OK dude, you asked for it;

-

Now I'm gonna have to hit you,

I'm really gonna bust you up;

-

Oh you want some more, eh?

Then I'm gonna hit you,

Again

And

Again;

-

What's that you say?

-

Five card trick?

-

Well ****!

-

Dealer pays.

-
369 · Mar 2015
Business For Sale
Tryst Mar 2015
Beside the boarded windows,
A faded painted sign:

STOP!
No sinners welcome here!

*Come in if you're divine
366 · Dec 2014
One Tiny Step
Tryst Dec 2014
White walls and padded doors
Frame my world,
Has it come to this?

I tried to look,
To see outside the boundaries,
Beyond the human sphere
Into the darkness

To see a thing
For what it truly is
One needs only to
Step outside

So
Bravely,
I stepped out

One tiny step
Across the threshold
Between worlds

I turned
To see all I had known,
For the first time
Seeing with eyes open

I found the answers
To questions none should ask,
And lost myself

They found me roaming the streets

They tell me that I'm crazy

They don't understand

They won't listen,

Only I know

Why
First published 3rd December 2014, 07:15 AEST.
363 · May 2014
Upon the Stars
Tryst May 2014
If all the stars were made of paper, bright
And shining with a clean unwritten glow;
An endless ream of shimmering white delight,
Awaiting for a writers hand to flow.
If space was but an inky void, so dark
And gleaming with a glossy coated hue;
An endless pool of glimmering black, so stark
And unused, waiting for its first debut.
If I should take a quill unto the ink,
And write my words on each and every star,
To cover each with all the ways I think,
To tell the world how beautiful you are --
        When every star was blackened with my verse,
        I'd seek to find another universe
361 · Apr 2015
The Fire Within
Tryst Apr 2015
Fan the fire that burns within,
let the heat sear your skin
until you crisp,

be a guiding hand, or
a torch for the ******
when all is lost,

when fear takes you,
when existence breaks you,
when nothing remains
of what you were,

be undone.
358 · Sep 2018
Golden Summer Bygones
Tryst Sep 2018
Though autumn runs swift, I recall summer bygones
When thin hours were thrift; when the golden horizons
Of sunrise and sunset rose quick to their meeting,
And the night wore regret of a day ever fleeting.

O! To drink one last draught of the schemes youth had made!
The toil of our graft now lays hidden in shade;
The sunrise comes calling, and the sunset declines,
But the autumn is waning, and the winter confines

The march of a heartbeat, the pace of its drummer,
As boot-weary feet bear the blisters of summer;
The aching-back bends ‘neath the weight of horizons
That bookmark the ends of our gold summer bygones.
357 · Oct 2018
T. M. H.
Tryst Oct 2018
We look, we strive, enquire, we cannot see
Into the fog that time has wove to shield
Past days from us — Some things never revealed
Shall ever be to us a mystery —
And of you, many talk to some degree
And to and fro with evidence they wield,
And for or ‘gainst with joy too ill concealed
They argue this and that as their decree —
And you ever remain a silent stone;
From you, no utterance, truth nor denial —
Your voice is lost, your flesh has gone to bone,
You cannot speak the manner of your trial —
For one as you whose life is all but known,
Mayhap tis fair your death is yours alone.
356 · Jan 2015
Poetry For Ransom
Tryst Jan 2015
sEnd
                              t
He                moNEy:

              *TRY!
          ­   noTHiNg                         funnY!

    othEr     wIsE                               ,tHE

                   "poEt"                                          **DIES?
First published 21st January 2015, 09:20 AEST.
352 · Jul 2016
Look For Me
Tryst Jul 2016
Sounding out the truth of all the lies I've ever known
Looking for the answers in the fields where doubts were sown
Sifting through my memories to lay my ghosts to rest
Days we shared will always be the best

Look for me when summer brings the pounding of the rain
Think of me when autumn leaves are falling round again
Know that I'll be with you when the winter comes to pass
Seasons go but love will ever last

Walking in the meadow when the sun was in the sky
Watching all the strangers as they watched us passing by
Holding our forevers captured in a single day
Knowing that our love would ever stay

Look for me when summer brings the pounding of the rain
Think of me when autumn leaves are falling round again
Know that I'll be with you when the winter comes to pass
Seasons go but love will ever last

Feelings are forever and the one's you don't forget
Linger like a shadow on a vacant silhouette
Living isn't easy when the life you thought you'd known
Was never meant to be there for your own

Look for me when summer brings the pounding of the rain
Think of me when autumn leaves are falling round again
Know that I'll be with you when the winter comes to pass
Seasons go but love will ever last
Seasons go but love will ever last
Seasons go but love will ever last
336 · Aug 2018
After the Party
Tryst Aug 2018
The crash of crystal breaking at a party
Draws jeers of laughter from the self-same few
Who claim, when morning comes, they never knew
Of idle boasts that grew to plans more hearty,
And pressed, would say from him we stood apart.  We
Were bold and brash but unlike those who slew
The *******, and the dark skinned, and the jew,
We upheld values of society.
The coward hides in plain sight in a crowd
And adds voice to the clamour, not as one
Who acts alone, subverting evil schemes,
But like as one so small, so ill endowed,
That when the hardy revellers are gone,
His empty life holds nothing but their dreams.
334 · Jul 2018
Love Swings Upon
Tryst Jul 2018
LOVE swings upon a pendulum
And reaps hearts to and fro —
The ‘Bold’ fear her momentum
And the ‘Sturdy’ feel her blow

And back and forth her scything blade
Will cut and shape and trim —
Till all true lovers’ souls are flayed
In deference to her whim
334 · Jan 2018
Ode To Youth
Tryst Jan 2018
Sleep, sleep, thou dainty flower:
Ill feasts the frost in Springtime,
Sweet petals to devour;
Heed not the zest of sunshine,
Fear not the zigzag rain,
Sleep, sleep, thou dainty flower,
At rest, alone, again.
334 · Jul 2015
Ode To William
Tryst Jul 2015
Dim witted pupils born of ignorance,
Long shadows loom to weave thy blinkered veil
Blinding closeted mind to innocence,
Till hope for love nor love for hope prevail;
What sweet delight does darkness serve to keep?
What hidden treasures lurk inside thy door?
Wise Solomon was wise enough to seek
For truth beyond the grains of his own store;
Yet thou embrace the dark, keep it to hand
Lest all thy world may crumble where thee stand.

Look not with shuttered eyes, but yet perceive
For senses fill the void, bring unto thee
A truth for which thine eyes might yet deceive;
Inhale to taste the world thou dare not see,
How fragrant is the fallen petaled rose?
How sweet the apple fading to decay?
Breathe deep as autumn reaps what summer sows,
Let bounteous harvest spirit thee away
To sip perfume, fine fragrance from the vine
That lingers like a sweet bouquet of wine.

Slow shuffled steps, each footfall amplified
Through trepid corners of thy darkened mind,
A conjured dread that cannot be denied
As useless eyes strain urgently to find
Its course; Hark! Tap, tap, tapping at thy door!
Thy breath abates, thy racing heart resounds,
Thy trembling toes cajole thee o'er the floor
And pressing of thy ear, to hear the sounds:
A pillowed voice as light as silken spin
Whispers, "Open the door, I will come in!"

Fear grips thee in a vice, thy voice is lost
As thou were lost, yet now thou has been found:
What stands without?  A madman or a ghost?
What stalks its prey?  What hunts thee like a hound?
Thy eyes are struck by blinding haloed light
Beneath the door, around its weary frame,
As dark recedes away to flee its might,
Abandoned thou must play the hunter's game;
Down through thy quivered spine, cold shivers creep
And kneeling to the ground, thou starts to weep.

Look now upon thy door with eyes reborn,
Thy savior and thy keeper through the night;
Eyes crowned with sight like pillows to a thorn
Harsh punctured with each searing twist of light;
How oft' thy mind has drawn its simple form,
Thy fingers run to feel each knotted grain,
Yet with thine eyes, thou see it now transform,
A handle hidden neat within the frame;
What clever hand, what love of labored skill
Had crafted of a ring so neatly made
That in its recess, fingers found no thrill
To find it in its secret wooded glade;
Yet now that light is gifted to thy sight,
Thy fingers trouble not to raise the ring
And taking hold and firmly gripping tight,
Thou contemplates the actions of a thing:
Does fear of light reduce thee to a shell,
To quake within thy boots, to shake with dread?
Will darkness cloak thee from a living hell
Or bring a living hell into thy head?
Thy hand is poised, have thee the strength to learn?
Thy will be done, to turn or not to turn.
331 · Jul 2014
Counting the Hours
Tryst Jul 2014
Tick Tock Tick Tock,
What time is it?
How long do we have?

Can't wait for the weekend,
Is it really only Monday?

Holidays in a few short months,
Then Christmas, then Easter,
And another birthday!

One more lap of life's track done,
How many left?

If I live to be a hundred,
Just 100 sun-kissed circuits,
Less the one's I've already squandered;

If I live to be a hundred,
Just 36,500 sunlit days (give or take),
Less the one's I've already wished away;

That doesn't seem like enough
To do all the things I want to do,
Even if I reached a hundred;

I think the weekend can wait,
I’m going to enjoy Monday while it lasts,
Because when this day is through,
It’s gone forever;

One less chamber
In the barrel of life;

One more chance
To pull the trigger on life’s roulette
And hope to hear a click.
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