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1.9k · Sep 2020
Art of Poetry
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
It's a treasure trove
Words tossed up like confetti
Falling in our hearts
1.2k · Sep 2020
Love letters: Effable Fun
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Boo,
        I don't write love letters
like you do

My words get blacklisted

'cause with love,
       things can get twisted, quickly

You see:
the sweet hips      
                   drips
            with kisses ...  can easily be
                            
the creep's lips
                      trips
             with hisses

Don't misconstrue, Boo
I see you
      like you see me
            and, I agree
our minds are connected
  
                   But
                             our
telepathy
           can certainly be
                                the lepathy

to confuse you
          and
        contuse you too

You don't see the pain I see
                I see the pane you don't see

It obscures my view
     I'm one of the pragmatic few
          I'm being true to you, Boo

These love letters must end
           In its place I'll just send

"Deeds" things we can both do
                          and claim ownership to

They can't be misunderstood at all
   The same ones used at a concert hall

If it's great ... then I'll just applaud
If it's bad ... then I'll just ...

                        Boo, I'm through
Lighten up my friends. It is all good with Poetry
868 · Nov 2019
She's So...
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
People said she's so... great
I had to see for myself... bait

and I saw what they said
and I am fond of it

She said she's so...concupiscent
I had to see for myself... contentment

and I felt what she had said
and I am fond of it

I said she's so... enticing
I had seen for myself... volatile

and I experienced for myself what I said
and I am all alone
She's So...
849 · Dec 2019
Wine & White Truffles
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
I had too much wine
He ate all my white truffles
That crude selfish boar
Wine & White Truffles
812 · Nov 2019
Against the Odds
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On the busy floor
of life and death
stood a man
Against the odds
this man stood
A slender man
A well groomed man
Who wore a coat
A coat of wool
A sheep's coat.
Against the odds
This man stood
among the wolves
motionless
He held an umbrella
in his hand.
This umbrella...
it stopped not rain
it stopped not sun
of the volatile weather
but in his hand
the man held
this umbrella
against the odds
in volatile weather
he stood
slender
well groomed
wearing his coat
his sheep's coat
among the wolves
motionless
on the busy floor
of life and death
against the odds
as he traded to the final bell
The Stockbroker of Life and Death
759 · Nov 2019
Haiku's Noon: Mount Fuji
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Above Mount Fuji
Sizzling, the noon sun suspend
frigid smoke erupts
Haiku at noon at Mount Fuji
754 · Jun 2021
Incomplete Art
Anthony Pierre Jun 2021
Some may say:
It is missing something!

Indeed, some have said:
This is incomplete!

Look:

these stones lay
gray with lifelessness
gray as the clouds gathering
over his graphite city

such oddity of geometry
peculiar buildings with
perpendicular lines
raising parallel paradigms

and the unpainted sun
casts awkward shadows
across the gray stones -
empty sidewalks -
devoid of colours
devoid of life
devoid of people

Yes, where are the people?

but to critique my art
694 · Sep 2020
Do you know me, Dostoevsky?
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Am I a sick man?

as I lived on a hibiscus shrub
Many rooms, long and short
Many face vividly coloured
with a beauty of sadness
grafted on a nameless rootstock

Am I an unattractive man?

as I lived like a petal in the sun
perfect for bees and butterflies
and the visitors; oh day! oh night!
as for me, time danced on a maypole around my dreamy garland head

Am I a spiteful man?

as I've counted all 3863 days, 1 by 1
that I lived on that hibiscus shrub
without a flight to my fantasies
Since then, I'm thrown underground
here I live like a ridiculed mouse

Do you know me, Dostoevsky?
Fyodor Dostoevsky was indeed a master of Literary science. His works are beyond excellence and thoroughly evocative.
670 · Oct 2019
The Depths of Hope
Anthony Pierre Oct 2019
Born to a culture
common its faith
of shallow waters
schooled in this trait

Great motion of tides
ebbs most to modal tasks
like sand on beaches
the future's unmask

but without notice
some dove deep in fears
for comfort n solace
swam away with years

In the darkest of waters
a home made for few
where hope is deep
a new species grew.
666 · Jul 2021
Let Me Live
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
Let me live
for this is where I am
beneath my father's tree:
eternal and heavenly shade

Let me live
and I will gaze
across the vast ocean
of memories to you

You see
for you life plays
this sweet song

you must humble
you must listen
to the end
the silence

silence brings you
these tears for me
and sadness you feel
the death of my memory

Yet you know me
as I have lived

So let me live
in you
in your fondest memories

Let me live
as I have lived

Anthony J Pierre
July 16, 2021
Rest in peace eternally mother
Marjorie Alma Teresa Pierre
656 · Sep 2020
Contemplation
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Through contemplation,
the mind leaps to its haven
above reason's gaol
A daily dose of contemplation frees you from the shackles of reason and logic. Deep reflection is great for your wellbeing.
655 · Oct 2020
Remember Bill Bailey
Anthony Pierre Oct 2020
This isn't news
It's Newport News
It makes you dance

Bill Bailey

And the moon walks
from sweet Virginia
never from Neverland

Bill Bailey

The first flight
In Apollo
blew up the night

Bill Bailey

Call it what you want
You can't walk on the moon
without the backslide

Bill Bailey
Bill Bailey was the inventor of the world famous Moonwalk used by Michael Jackson
606 · Nov 2019
Boca Chica's Bay
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On a street near Don Juan
In Boca Chica's bay
Nightly music and drums unwind
To a proclavity of dismay

Little seashells aplenty
For every pious gaze
Unripen beauty so varied
Habitual buyers unfaze

Rising tension of devout sinners
Smoke and coffee breach the air
A salted heart in a mink's coat
"Toma dos ahora" ; take a pair

In Boca Chica's bay, seashells aplenty
Little seashells: its sells, it sells
May your Interpretation guide you.
597 · Dec 2019
Crazy Tap Dancers
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
Tap tap tap like dancing feet
Crazy tap dancers on a streak
Tapping fast tapping slow
Tap dancing is all they know

Some tap dancers are on fleek
Amazing colours nice and sleek
Glittering dust on their heels
Neat and shiny like new wheels

One tap dancers was so vain
She was tap dancing on a plane
Some said this dancer was a fool
Then she tap danced into a pool

Tap a word or tap a page
Tap with joy or tap with rage
Make me laugh or make me cry
Tap tap tap till my battery die
571 · Nov 2019
Two Voodoo dolls
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
There are two voodoo dolls
In my room
But I'm unsure
How they got here

Many a night
Beckoned to leave
These crazy dolls
Just stare

I'm paralyzed with fear
And a broken leg
Trapped and unable to leave
my horrid doom

It keeps getting worse
Inscriptions on the wall
And lighted candles
Surround me

The silence; the screams
of these voodoo dolls
They echo
Even in my dreams

There are two voodoo dolls
Right here in my room
Great trepidation; great horror
All in front a mirror
547 · Nov 2019
Haiku's Novelty
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Novelty means new
A Poetic Novelty?
Explain this to me!
A Poetic Novelty? Can anyone explain what this mean?
540 · Nov 2019
Hello ~ Poetry
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Hello... Poetry
It has been some time
since I've enjoyed you
as my company

There's a special joy
on a rain-filled night
to probe this site
with the cadence of ebony and ivory

Hello... my friend
would you mind a glass
red wine....Cabernet, Amarone
best yet, some Long Island tea

Such a pleasure filled mood
as my thoughts protrude
these splendid dictates
both old and new

So long, my esteemed friend
until we next meet
when I can repeat to you
Hello again...Hello Poetry
Suddenly it happened. A quiet night. Hello Poetry. Such a wonderful website. I'm just wondering if I am any good at this? Poetry.
535 · Sep 2020
The Black Prince
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Slave of briers courts
regal, purple, velvet robe
Picture perfect rose
The Black Prince is a beautiful rose
524 · Nov 2019
Haiku's Dark Void
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Fear not the unknown
Rather, embrace its dark void
In it true self's found.
Haiku's Dark Void. A Journey Towards Self Actualization
514 · Aug 2020
Stella in Moonlight
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
When the sunlight fades
She creeps out in the darkness
Stellar in her ways
511 · Jul 2021
Broken Vase
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
I knew you
needed this
sincere apology
to pull yourself
together

but you
had to be broken

so I could
keep myself
in one piece
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
Its eighteen months since her delivery
Now she is penning odes ostensibly
Crayons in both hands: she is standing tall
What Dada says? "No writing on the wall."

With great care baby writes her graffiti
Not much untouched by her audacity
He tries to compromise with a new book
but baby says, "Daa Daa"; with a stern look

He has to admit the walls are hers now
Filled with scribbles and a chromatic cow
Its her version of Van Gogh's Starry Night
without the stars; a novice oversight

She's more surreal than Salvador Dali
The writing's on my wall: Pure Graffiti
Graffiti: Writing on My Wall
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
The Sun slips to sleep
on Ishigaki's retreat
under pastel sky
A Haiku's Sunset: On Ishigaki Island in Okinawa, Japan
495 · Nov 2019
A Peculiar Pen's Poem
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
In the weirdest turn of events that day
As a cop toting guns and pepper spray
I gathered an urge to pen my first ode
In my lunch hour, before hitting the road

To sirens and light of my precinct's space
not a stanza wrote, yet my mind's apace
the pen's the problem; confidence recede
Pondered a visit to a friend, indeed

Thoughtful I'm moving, this old clue I'd act
on Brooklyn's pen thief; kleptomaniac
acquired from him, an ink dipping quill
of Huia birds, still boxed with its bill

Case solved; on the back of the bill it hints
"Dear Mayor, pen's for poems; lead's for thugs."
A Peculiar Pen's Poem...still beating the street
N.B. Huia (pronounced HOO EE UH) birds feathers cost $10,000 a single pluck
479 · May 2020
The Last Sonnet for Love
Anthony Pierre May 2020
Love borne in briers of a lonely heart
May bloom eternally on heaven's stage
So sweet the lustre that lovers impart
Like ink from a poet's pen on a page

When eternity comes bouquets decay
And letters of love fade into the night
Then mourning comes like a worn out cliche
Uncertainty grow to strangle you tight

Shudder not now my friend the end of love
When its curtains fall; take your final bow
free it of corpus chains to fly above
the empty trails of bards feet left on snow

When the last sonnet can't mend love's sorrow
Toss in Dante's burning heart your arrow
For lovers and haters alike
477 · Nov 2019
The Mind Feigns
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
My mind
Feigns
It is a friend
It is a foe

My mind is a child
undeveloped
Knows so little; Learns a lot
Clearly, I understand my world

My mind is extrapolated
developed
Knows a lot; Learns so little
Hardly, I understand my world

It feigns
My mind, extrapolated
A friend
A foe
A curious thing the Mind
474 · Nov 2019
Sir V. S. Naipaul's Sword
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Every knight swords
A razor sharpened tip
To pare into the souls
Of their many subjects

Sir Very Special Naipaul
An august knight was he.
His felt-tipped glaive
Donned in ink stained valour

It cuts, this sword, above all
Deep into the mind
Bending, shaping its stream
Of understanding

Every knight who swords
A razor sharpened end
Must pen into our hearts
The most noble trend
A Free State is where I belong.
474 · Sep 2020
Pound for Pound, Ezra
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Feather light words exhumed
heavy as Mussolini's clock
coo coo times, chimes
and a fascist bird sings;
sweet and succinct

Taken as is
might slight delight
The vitiation of words
in the phrases
Petals dead on a wet, rotted bough
Ezra Pound was a Poet and Fascist Collaborator
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
How a humble son of Scotland
Fought to enviable height
First a paratrooper captain
Then as a British knight

This witty chap from Glasgow
Loaned himself, a decorated past
From Distinguished Service Order
To NATO's advisory cast

As the press took him in notice
His wiki posts drew no pity
As with his tale of valour
He was defamed: "Sir Walter Mitty"
Historical account: A Tale of Valour
433 · Nov 2019
A Beating Heart
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
The solitary beat
of a beating heart

The solitary heart
of a heartless man

The solitary man
of a crowded world

The solitary world
of a ludicrous dream

The solitary dream
of hideous music

The solitary music
of incoherent beats

The solitary beat
of a beating heart
A Beating Heart resonates throughout the vast fields of the universe impacting and being impacted. Consider the impact of one solitary beat.
426 · Nov 2019
The Butterfly
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
The butterfly is a frugal fellow
His dancing wings float ever aloft
He is always well mannered and mellow
Yet deemed queer because he's modest and soft

He passes his time in contemplation
Placates with colourful diplomacy
Works hard and avoids procrastination
He's artful and filled with tenacity

Not a slurp when, his ambrosia, he sips
His etiquette shows: it is well entrenched
For outings and ins he'll sure catch that tip
The rarest charm to behold but not clenched

Luck sees you such a butterfly at play
He's a frugal fellow and so he'll stay.
The Butterfly
412 · Nov 2019
Macabre Swam at Bloody Bay
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
One thousand six hundred and sixty six
none: a salesman, a noble, or a cook
Macabre swam the sea of ****** Bay
In a fleet, the Dutch, French and Britsh he took

A crimson tide soaked the sand to a stain
Great reefs, he made, floating stench of maim
The more Macabre swam for lust of pain
More life, to the vast ocean floor, he claim

Now, three hundred and twenty three years on
Under a full moon in the depth of night
He, Macabre, still swims a ****** Bay
In search of an undaunted soul to fight.
A Personification of Macabre
392 · Nov 2019
The Dullest Star
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Come and see
in the night painted sky
a scattered brilliance
vivid, ever aglow

Take time again to look
at each irrelevant speck
alight tonight
just for you... see

Didn't you notice
the dullest star
no longer shines
as before?

But today, yes today
it radiates more than most

Come and gaze
at the night painted sky
its passing; it is passing
the star inside of me
378 · Sep 2020
Getting Round Flat Earth
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Getting nowhere!

One whole Earth
round and flat

Here's a balloon
Here's a plate

Reminds me
to celebrate with

An oblate pear
on steroids and
a flat Greek cake

A stupendous combination
The great Earth debate.
Is it round like a ball?
Is it flat like a plate?
363 · Sep 2020
Existential Bouquet
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Life's a blooming rose
A special gift to possess
Death's a rose well pruned
The sweet bouquet of our existence
356 · Nov 2019
Haiku's Dawn
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
A galloping gale
sweeps away the lingering
fog of autumn's dawn
My first attempt at Haiku
352 · Nov 2019
A Night Time Plot
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Time has plot with night
to do away with day

An evil plot they thought of
so Night was here to stay

You may not grasp this story
until your day is through

When time and night are your friends
and day now dead is you
A Night Time Plot
333 · Apr 2022
From the Other Side
Anthony Pierre Apr 2022
That grass
isn't that green?
320 · Aug 2020
Ode for a Runaway Child
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
From which old, cattle ****
my dearest child, you've found
the tongue that cried a silent entreat
on perilous miles, those perilous miles
peeled out from under your feet
your soul unmended and worn... gone
never coming home to reconcile

What indifference has time gifted?
that empty score you left...
...for the old hearted man
deafening him, with its silence.
He sobs for you, my child, he sobs
with battered old scars, so gray
...as he dreams of you
the child from whom he ran away
Don't be too eager to become an adult... enjoy your childhood
320 · Jul 2020
Avedon's Eyes
Anthony Pierre Jul 2020
What colour are your eyes
Avedon?
Pale and blue as skies awake
in heaven
Gray as the clouds with their burden
of a thousand words
for every sight they've seen.
Each time your eyes were opened
a new splendour captured.
A treasure at the rainbow's end
Yours an aperture to another epoch
The maker of Princes ... a King
Saville and Vogue as the Gypsy's eyes?
Meek and Sombre as the Catacombs'?
In a perpetual motion
life flashed across your face
so unfamiliar... so familiar  
and ambitious secrets of the pupil
made an eternal portrait of you;
a Master of Photography
A Still so extraordinary, though,
transparent as the rain.
Neither a tint nor hue ... just you.
What colour are your eyes
Avedon?
Richard Avedon a Master of Photography
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On islands of the tropics sweetly sets
over poignant scented bistros and tide
on a rich apricot, painted canvas
a gentle warmth for winter's hostile chide

As bare footed limps deep into the sand
To chirps, to giggles; crashing surf so glad
Briskly washing away all memory
of the wintered homage of Avon's bard

A pale mat lays hush, as red kites ascend
to prey in vast fields of his frigid shire
From a window's sill, his eyes thus pretend
A sonnet on the seaside's to retire

Seldom he escapes winter's icy grip
Shakespeare seaside sonnet: a mental trip
A sonnet for my friends in their winter estate
305 · Nov 2019
Robin's Tune
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
I bought a bird
A singing bird to sing
The bird was a robin
I named him Robin

Robin was not communist
Robin was not socialist
He was an American
An American robin

Robin was not gay
Robin was not straight
He was a singing bird
A singing robin

Robin was not a Muslim
Robin was not a Christian
He was just a regular robin
A bird that I called Robin

But, this little bird
never sang a single song

He was not a mute
He could sing
He was free to sing anything
He chose not to sing his tune

So for me
Robin's silence was deafening
Robin's Tune.
298 · Jul 2020
Dogs
Anthony Pierre Jul 2020
A foolish dog understands nothing

A smart dog understands its master

A wise dog understands itself
Anthony Pierre Apr 2021
You think
you had enough, Silly?
It's a love song

Let us go
You and I
Where the music
Makes you high
Like patients etherized

What's wrong with that?

They will come
They will go
Speaking of Macca de Angelo
Tribute to Paul McCartney
287 · May 2020
Waters of Meribah
Anthony Pierre May 2020
I'd dreamt of Moshe's fall
In the arid land of Kadesh
And I wondered; how sweet
were those waters of Meribah?

Then, I woke up from sleeping
and was greeted by a nightmare

Rising under an Ethiopian cloud
The Grandiose Renaissance
To tame the mighty blue Nile
To free the wild hearts of men

How I pray tensions fall
In the fertile lands of Africa
as I ponder; how sweet
are these waters of Meribah?
281 · Nov 2019
Tetragrammaton
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Tetragrammaton
The apex of poetry
One word says it all
The Tetragrammaton is the pinnacle of poetry.
275 · Nov 2019
Love's Language
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Harken not in hate
Whence thine love's words may repair
Hither, thine aching heart
Love's Language
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
... my world is made whole
with these tiny little things
I'm big with small love
A little bit of love goes a very long way
266 · Aug 2020
Graffiti: Banksy's Blotches
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
"You know how I art ... intimately"
On broken city walls with crotches
these times I stencil is a parody
"its free, its me... with all my blotches"

Why **** my trapped rat in Hague?
You brought back, black this plague
from the West Sea sand to Bristol
made clearer with a ball of crystal

Provocative lives alive in deaf canned colour
yet reality's dead among sidewalk's clutter
if your heart really wants a Banksy's piece
My B +'s homogenized on a Petri dish for release

Who's guessing where my art's headed?
with blotches not a single piece shredded
the real art's kept displayed in the mind
that's why Banksy's blotches are one of a kind
259 · Dec 2019
Time
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
This is not the first                  TIME

Nor is it the                      SECOND

while reading the      MINUTES

That this love of              OURS

has left me in a                 DAZE

Now I am so                            WEAK

I think this feeling will last a life-TIME
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