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"affray" poems
ruminating                   cogitating                                   pondering                                                   thinking the subject matter doth put the mind into a thought seat is there sufficient verbs for me to place on the paper's sheet verbs by definition are words which have an action they on the reader do have an impaction so let's explore a topic worth a thousand of them how I'll express this piece shall test my mind's stem here is the matter I shall discuss without any duress or manner of fuss all over the globe there is much trouble our planet is not as a carefree bubble the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere our corners of four not of an according air were there to be peace and calmed relations no concerns would beset our world's many nations yet a propensity for war doth  ever prevail what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail verbs shall never explain man's idiocy as he's ever involving himself in armory yet a man who did advocate cordiality lived with his brothers in true harmony he was a meek man of the Indian land a message of non-violence he did band the lessons of history are never heard man seemingly ever in the warring herd the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
0
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
What Is Worth A Thousand Verbs
ruminating                   cogitating                                   pondering                                                   thinking the subject matter doth put the mind into a thought seat is there sufficient verbs for me to place on the paper's sheet verbs by definition are words which have an action they on the reader do have an impaction so let's explore a topic worth a thousand of them how I'll express this piece shall test my mind's stem here is the matter I shall discuss without any duress or manner of fuss all over the globe there is much trouble our planet is not as a carefree bubble the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere our corners of four not of an according air were there to be peace and calmed relations no concerns would beset our world's many nations yet a propensity for war doth  ever prevail what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail verbs shall never explain man's idiocy as he's ever involving himself in armory yet a man who did advocate cordiality lived with his brothers in true harmony he was a meek man of the Indian land a message of non-violence he did band the lessons of history are never heard man seemingly ever in the warring herd the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
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44
Out on the marsh on a lonely night The wind soughs through his rags, The hat that’s pinned to his painted face, Flutters and soars, then sags, His eyes are wide and his mouth is grim As an owl is put to flight, And nothing but shadows will venture there For the Scarecrow rules the night. And back in the manse in a window seat The Parson’s daughter sits, She stares at the fluttering coat-tails, but In truth, is scared to bits, She watches the sails of the windmill turn And creak and groan in the gloom, As clouds come stuttering over the marsh In the rays of a Harvest Moon. The father is out in the donkey cart To tend to his aging flock, He’s left Elizabeth waiting there By the tick of the hallway clock, But out on the moors and beyond the marsh There rides one Highway Jack, A frock coat topped with a bunch of lace And a gold trimmed tricorne hat. He’s whipped the horse to a lather In a retreat from a new affray, For the magistrates have gathered Vowing to ride him down that day, The redcoats wait in the village Inn For the sound that they know too well, When the curate sees the approaching horse He’s to toll the old church bell. But the curate lies in a drunken fit On the floor of the old church nave, And soon, by matins his soul will flit From life to an early grave, Elizabeth sits in the window seat And thinks of the coin and plate, As the highwayman dismounts, and ties His horse to the manse’s gate. He beats on the door, ‘Please let me in, I’m weary and faint, that’s all. I wouldn’t abuse your person, but I fear my back’s to the wall.’ She leaves the seat and she slides the bar For bracing the oaken door, ‘I dare not, sir, I fear for my life, You’re safer out on the moor!’ Their voices echo across the marsh Like fear, distilled in the night, And something shudders out in the gloom And lurches to left and right, It seems forever, but now a sound Tolls out, like a final knell, For something, out in the church tonight, Is tolling the steeple bell. He barely makes it back to his horse When the redcoats stand in line, Their muskets fire a volley of shot And his coat turns red, like wine. They go to the church when the deed is done To say, ‘You have done well!’ But the curate lies on the cold stone floor, The Scarecrow tolled the bell! David Lewis Paget
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Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
The Scarecrow
Out on the marsh on a lonely night The wind soughs through his rags, The hat that’s pinned to his painted face, Flutters and soars, then sags, His eyes are wide and his mouth is grim As an owl is put to flight, And nothing but shadows will venture there For the Scarecrow rules the night. And back in the manse in a window seat The Parson’s daughter sits, She stares at the fluttering coat-tails, but In truth, is scared to bits, She watches the sails of the windmill turn And creak and groan in the gloom, As clouds come stuttering over the marsh In the rays of a Harvest Moon. The father is out in the donkey cart To tend to his aging flock, He’s left Elizabeth waiting there By the tick of the hallway clock, But out on the moors and beyond the marsh There rides one Highway Jack, A frock coat topped with a bunch of lace And a gold trimmed tricorne hat. He’s whipped the horse to a lather In a retreat from a new affray, For the magistrates have gathered Vowing to ride him down that day, The redcoats wait in the village Inn For the sound that they know too well, When the curate sees the approaching horse He’s to toll the old church bell. But the curate lies in a drunken fit On the floor of the old church nave, And soon, by matins his soul will flit From life to an early grave, Elizabeth sits in the window seat And thinks of the coin and plate, As the highwayman dismounts, and ties His horse to the manse’s gate. He beats on the door, ‘Please let me in, I’m weary and faint, that’s all. I wouldn’t abuse your person, but I fear my back’s to the wall.’ She leaves the seat and she slides the bar For bracing the oaken door, ‘I dare not, sir, I fear for my life, You’re safer out on the moor!’ Their voices echo across the marsh Like fear, distilled in the night, And something shudders out in the gloom And lurches to left and right, It seems forever, but now a sound Tolls out, like a final knell, For something, out in the church tonight, Is tolling the steeple bell. He barely makes it back to his horse When the redcoats stand in line, Their muskets fire a volley of shot And his coat turns red, like wine. They go to the church when the deed is done To say, ‘You have done well!’ But the curate lies on the cold stone floor, The Scarecrow tolled the bell! David Lewis Paget
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65
It was the day of the wedding of Mr and Mrs Epithalamium they looked quite the Heroic Couplet and full of Romanticism until the Englyn Prose-d the Questionku ‘ Do you take this woman’ … then in a wavering Iambic Pentameter voice the groom whispered ‘I do not know’ ….Mrs Epithalamium felt quite Dizain and tried to scratch out his Ruba’I, the Clerihew stepped forward to comfort her but tripped over some Concrete and felt like a right Cowboy. The brides father, the Russian Chastushka, grabbed the groom and with a Carpe Diem attitude threatened to Choka him. The guests all gathered in an Enclosed Rhyme with the best man making quite a Dramatic Monologue, the brides mother had her Hybronnet knocked off her head and the chief bridesmaid had her Kimo torn in the affray. The young flower girls Haibun and Hamd both burst into tears as their Crown of Sonnets were totally destroyed. The Rev. Pantoum pleaded for calm, then repeating his plea for the melee to stop started making a List of the damage, quick as a Ghazal and with great Imagism he protected the Crystalline glass from smashing into Ninette pieces. Meanwhile the poor bride was in a state of Nonet anxiously trying to get past the twins Munaajaat and Musaddas, her Idyll life had been turned upside down, today was the day she had hoped to change her Name to Triolet. Alliteration watched while women wept, then stepped forward and with a Lyric in his voice asked people to calm down, he told everyone he had Naat come here to watch a display such as this and suggested they went for a hot Canzone to discuss the next move, Tanka and Tyburn readily agreed as they were very hungry and particularly as it was Free Verse it meant they could eat as much as they wanted. The nearly bride couldn’t give a Sijo if she never saw her ex again she was sick of being Kyrielle to and did not want anyone else’s Epyllion and with a final Than-Bauk stormed out of the club… © 6/4/2013
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Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Another Day in The Poetry Club...
It was the day of the wedding of Mr and Mrs Epithalamium they looked quite the Heroic Couplet and full of Romanticism until the Englyn Prose-d the Questionku ‘ Do you take this woman’ … then in a wavering Iambic Pentameter voice the groom whispered ‘I do not know’ ….Mrs Epithalamium felt quite Dizain and tried to scratch out his Ruba’I, the Clerihew stepped forward to comfort her but tripped over some Concrete and felt like a right Cowboy. The brides father, the Russian Chastushka, grabbed the groom and with a Carpe Diem attitude threatened to Choka him. The guests all gathered in an Enclosed Rhyme with the best man making quite a Dramatic Monologue, the brides mother had her Hybronnet knocked off her head and the chief bridesmaid had her Kimo torn in the affray. The young flower girls Haibun and Hamd both burst into tears as their Crown of Sonnets were totally destroyed. The Rev. Pantoum pleaded for calm, then repeating his plea for the melee to stop started making a List of the damage, quick as a Ghazal and with great Imagism he protected the Crystalline glass from smashing into Ninette pieces. Meanwhile the poor bride was in a state of Nonet anxiously trying to get past the twins Munaajaat and Musaddas, her Idyll life had been turned upside down, today was the day she had hoped to change her Name to Triolet. Alliteration watched while women wept, then stepped forward and with a Lyric in his voice asked people to calm down, he told everyone he had Naat come here to watch a display such as this and suggested they went for a hot Canzone to discuss the next move, Tanka and Tyburn readily agreed as they were very hungry and particularly as it was Free Verse it meant they could eat as much as they wanted. The nearly bride couldn’t give a Sijo if she never saw her ex again she was sick of being Kyrielle to and did not want anyone else’s Epyllion and with a final Than-Bauk stormed out of the club… © 6/4/2013
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5
T-The gift of life is oft stolen away H-Horrid weaponry does the affray E-Endlessly casualties will parlay G-Gleaming soldiers eyes gone for rest I-In unforgiving battles so harsh of test F-Fighting at a land's utmost behest T-Terrible the deadly toll is to attest O-Over and over munitions have terminated F-Flagrantly thieving any quietude generated L-Loved sons of kinfolk seen to weep I-Infinite this sadness ever so deep F-From a beautiful benefit the cost steep E-Extinguished by war's insane keep
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
The Gift Of Life (Acrostic Poem)
These times strike monied worldlings with dismay: Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair: While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day And minds not stinted or untilled are given, Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven, Are cheerful as the rising sun in May. What do we gather hence but firmer faith That every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath; That virtue and the faculties within Are vital,—and that riches are akin To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
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1.8k
October, 1803
Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise, Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair, Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise, Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre! Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life, Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply, Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife! This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay. Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder, Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction, Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger? Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination! A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting! Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight, Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming! This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite. Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed, This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream, No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists, Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam! My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer, My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn, My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter, But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring! © Robert Porteus
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Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 7:00 AM UTC
Elven-dream
Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise, Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair, Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise, Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre! Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life, Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply, Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife! This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay. Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder, Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction, Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger? Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination! A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting! Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight, Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming! This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite. Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed, This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream, No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists, Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam! My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer, My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn, My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter, But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring! © Robert Porteus
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25
What kind of fool am I? To let it creep in again This imaginary high From this drug that’s all pretend I had a kiss and now I’m addicted Is it my brain or my heart? That has been afflicted How does this start? This spiritual or emotional affray That leads me astray Longing for you Needing you I told myself the last time Would be the last time But here I go again A slave to pretend Something I can’t see or touch But long for so much What kind of fool am I? For something fake I’ll give it my all But here I go again Ready to put everything on the line and fall If it means love will prevail in the end
0
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 6:55 PM UTC
Fool
Rest in Country We'd just lobbed into Vungers from the Dat on R & C, Innocently strolling was **** Knight and me, Across the Flags to the Some-Such Bar wherein the girls drank 'tea'. And I can still see Max beside me striding to the Some-Such Bar, With the baby-sans about him going just that bit too far, With their practiced tugs and pleadings going just that bit too far. And of course among the baby-sans the cowboys moved in too, Which didn't worry me too much my cash was in my shoe, But Max was Max and in those days, not like me and you. ‘Watch your wallet, mate,’ says I, ‘in case it comes to harm.’ ‘No fear of that’ says mighty Max with patriotic charm, Then he tucked a cowboy baby-san beneath one brawny arm. Well! 'You silly ****** put him down’ but Max went like a rocket; 'I'm off to find the White Mice 'cos this bastard's picked me pocket.’ And I groaned aloud because I knew that me and him would cop it. Sure enough, there gathered round an angry, shouting throng, In Asia you don't maltreat kids, no matter right or wrong; Believe you me our lives that day depended on that throng. And I got hit with an iron bar (the hat protected my head), Whilst Max had a pistol ****** into his belly and really should be dead, And across the Flags M.P's I saw, turned white in craven dread. Australians too, those coppers but no good to Max and me; The gutless ******** turned about just so they might not see The riot raging fiercely now about my mate and me. I'd say forty upright citizens we met that Vung Tau day. Policemen, soldiers, rascals, all with us two in affray; Those Aussie ****** save our lives? They'd turned themselves away. Thank Christ the mob stayed leaderless, our riot's end surprise; And the cowardly action of those two? 'twas blessing in disguise, For a Yankee Jeep barged through the mob and drawled 'in here, you guys'. It barged back out then drove full speed to the end of R&C Where the Major spoke severely to **** Knight and me. While quietly back at the Some-Such Bar the girls sat drinking tea. Saved
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Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
Rest-in-Country
Rest in Country We'd just lobbed into Vungers from the Dat on R & C, Innocently strolling was **** Knight and me, Across the Flags to the Some-Such Bar wherein the girls drank 'tea'. And I can still see Max beside me striding to the Some-Such Bar, With the baby-sans about him going just that bit too far, With their practiced tugs and pleadings going just that bit too far. And of course among the baby-sans the cowboys moved in too, Which didn't worry me too much my cash was in my shoe, But Max was Max and in those days, not like me and you. ‘Watch your wallet, mate,’ says I, ‘in case it comes to harm.’ ‘No fear of that’ says mighty Max with patriotic charm, Then he tucked a cowboy baby-san beneath one brawny arm. Well! 'You silly ****** put him down’ but Max went like a rocket; 'I'm off to find the White Mice 'cos this bastard's picked me pocket.’ And I groaned aloud because I knew that me and him would cop it. Sure enough, there gathered round an angry, shouting throng, In Asia you don't maltreat kids, no matter right or wrong; Believe you me our lives that day depended on that throng. And I got hit with an iron bar (the hat protected my head), Whilst Max had a pistol ****** into his belly and really should be dead, And across the Flags M.P's I saw, turned white in craven dread. Australians too, those coppers but no good to Max and me; The gutless ******** turned about just so they might not see The riot raging fiercely now about my mate and me. I'd say forty upright citizens we met that Vung Tau day. Policemen, soldiers, rascals, all with us two in affray; Those Aussie ****** save our lives? They'd turned themselves away. Thank Christ the mob stayed leaderless, our riot's end surprise; And the cowardly action of those two? 'twas blessing in disguise, For a Yankee Jeep barged through the mob and drawled 'in here, you guys'. It barged back out then drove full speed to the end of R&C Where the Major spoke severely to **** Knight and me. While quietly back at the Some-Such Bar the girls sat drinking tea. Saved
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35
The SatNav said, ‘Turn left ahead, There’s going to be a crash, A dozen cars are headed in For one almighty smash!’ I slammed my foot down on the brake And pulled off to the verge, As other drivers honked and cursed And flew past, in a surge. I think my mouth fell open as I stared down at the screen, An LED was pulsing red Ahead, at Winson Green, ‘Would you repeat the last command,’ I muttered, still in shock, ‘Sit here and wait, avoid your fate, Five minutes on the clock!’ The papers said the lights had failed When they came out next day, A dozen cars had met head on, Three died in that affray, I didn’t dare say anything In case they thought me mad, An Oracle SatNav indeed, I shook my head - How sad! I lay awake in bed at dawn I hadn’t been to sleep, The automatic toaster by The bed began to speak, ‘Get up, get up,’ and popped the toast, Its usual discourse, But then, ‘you’d better get downstairs And check the neighbour’s horse.’ The horse was in the living room Had come in from outside, Had gifted us a steaming pile Right there, on Maggie’s pride. ‘That rug will never be the same,’ I shouted at the horse: ‘I saw the door was open, so I just came in, of course!’ A talking horse? It couldn’t be, I went to see the quack, ‘I keep on hearing funny things,’ I said, he turned his back. ‘I think my ears are playing up,’ I motioned with my thumb, He shook his head, I’d quite forgot The Doc was deaf and dumb. My life is quite impossible I must admit defeat, As phones and televisions all Abuse me in the street, But I never seem to hear the wife Who tends to scream and shout, So it seems there’s still an upside When you’re going mad - No doubt! David Lewis Paget
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
The Upside of Down
The SatNav said, ‘Turn left ahead, There’s going to be a crash, A dozen cars are headed in For one almighty smash!’ I slammed my foot down on the brake And pulled off to the verge, As other drivers honked and cursed And flew past, in a surge. I think my mouth fell open as I stared down at the screen, An LED was pulsing red Ahead, at Winson Green, ‘Would you repeat the last command,’ I muttered, still in shock, ‘Sit here and wait, avoid your fate, Five minutes on the clock!’ The papers said the lights had failed When they came out next day, A dozen cars had met head on, Three died in that affray, I didn’t dare say anything In case they thought me mad, An Oracle SatNav indeed, I shook my head - How sad! I lay awake in bed at dawn I hadn’t been to sleep, The automatic toaster by The bed began to speak, ‘Get up, get up,’ and popped the toast, Its usual discourse, But then, ‘you’d better get downstairs And check the neighbour’s horse.’ The horse was in the living room Had come in from outside, Had gifted us a steaming pile Right there, on Maggie’s pride. ‘That rug will never be the same,’ I shouted at the horse: ‘I saw the door was open, so I just came in, of course!’ A talking horse? It couldn’t be, I went to see the quack, ‘I keep on hearing funny things,’ I said, he turned his back. ‘I think my ears are playing up,’ I motioned with my thumb, He shook his head, I’d quite forgot The Doc was deaf and dumb. My life is quite impossible I must admit defeat, As phones and televisions all Abuse me in the street, But I never seem to hear the wife Who tends to scream and shout, So it seems there’s still an upside When you’re going mad - No doubt! David Lewis Paget
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57
Eye of covid Lipid drops Sterile cauldron Now promulgate Inoculate the many Blood scouts raising the alarm Bugles blaring, heat ascending Cavalry storm an affray Time to reinforce Stock up munitions Train rapacious phages Prepare the garbage trucks Its an invasion Man the barriers Do not let them pass Subjugate and destroy Covid fall on thy eye
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Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 7:43 AM UTC
2021 Covid meets its match
Madison mounted her coal black mare In the yard of the Smugglers Inn, Her coat was black and her hair was fair And her jodhpurs tucked well in, The sky was in a threatening mood With its thunderheads from hell, As lightning forked on the ancient rood And the rain teemed down as well. ‘You need to get to the Laird,’ I cried, ‘Tell him to haste to me, Another day and she may have died, I’m trying to set her free. But the Pikemen stand outside her door And they say they guard her skin, There were locks and chains on her door before Up there, in the Smugglers Inn.’ ‘Tell him to bring his gallant troop To dismay the Duke of Bray, He means to imprison his daughter In his tower, the Lady Grey,’ The Pikemen said that I’d lose my head If I tried to breach her door, And wouldn’t answer whenever I asked, ‘What is she locked in for?’ So Madison wheeled the mare around And she put it to the spur, If any could ride a horse to ground I knew that it was her, She headed off to the Castle Croft Head bent to the driving rain, With lightning flashing around her mount I watched her across the plain. What seemed to take forever, I thought, Was merely an hour or two, But then my fears were set at naught As the troop came jangling through. Each man had raised his sabre and He’d kept his powder dry, My heart was surging within me as The troop came riding by. And then, at last, was Madison Still riding with the Laird, Determined then to save her friend, To show her that she cared. The Pikemen soon were beaten down Were lost in the affray, I never did catch a glimpse of him, Their lord, the Duke of Bray. It took a moment to smash the locks On the door of Lady Grey, And all the troop had cheered out loud As the chains, they fell away. Madison was the first in line To embrace the one within, But we were not to know what lay Up there, in the Smugglers Inn. The Lady, held in a firm embrace Had staggered out through the door, But blood and pustules were on her face Like we’d never seen before. A dying Pikemen called, ‘You fools, You’ve unleashed a bitter ague, And then he sighed just before he died, ‘Behold, you have the plague!’ David Lewis Paget
0
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
The Rescue
Madison mounted her coal black mare In the yard of the Smugglers Inn, Her coat was black and her hair was fair And her jodhpurs tucked well in, The sky was in a threatening mood With its thunderheads from hell, As lightning forked on the ancient rood And the rain teemed down as well. ‘You need to get to the Laird,’ I cried, ‘Tell him to haste to me, Another day and she may have died, I’m trying to set her free. But the Pikemen stand outside her door And they say they guard her skin, There were locks and chains on her door before Up there, in the Smugglers Inn.’ ‘Tell him to bring his gallant troop To dismay the Duke of Bray, He means to imprison his daughter In his tower, the Lady Grey,’ The Pikemen said that I’d lose my head If I tried to breach her door, And wouldn’t answer whenever I asked, ‘What is she locked in for?’ So Madison wheeled the mare around And she put it to the spur, If any could ride a horse to ground I knew that it was her, She headed off to the Castle Croft Head bent to the driving rain, With lightning flashing around her mount I watched her across the plain. What seemed to take forever, I thought, Was merely an hour or two, But then my fears were set at naught As the troop came jangling through. Each man had raised his sabre and He’d kept his powder dry, My heart was surging within me as The troop came riding by. And then, at last, was Madison Still riding with the Laird, Determined then to save her friend, To show her that she cared. The Pikemen soon were beaten down Were lost in the affray, I never did catch a glimpse of him, Their lord, the Duke of Bray. It took a moment to smash the locks On the door of Lady Grey, And all the troop had cheered out loud As the chains, they fell away. Madison was the first in line To embrace the one within, But we were not to know what lay Up there, in the Smugglers Inn. The Lady, held in a firm embrace Had staggered out through the door, But blood and pustules were on her face Like we’d never seen before. A dying Pikemen called, ‘You fools, You’ve unleashed a bitter ague, And then he sighed just before he died, ‘Behold, you have the plague!’ David Lewis Paget
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65
Roaming the fields of love With his Heart in a dark glove He saw from a far distance A creature with perfect appearance This creature was rather perfect It hit like a storybook affect She gazed the hallway With some sort of allay Her presence to him felt affray Like some sort of aggressive lay It felt like an ever winding journey through the blear So far away from here, Yet trying to draw them near He came close asked her name with a delay of response; she smiled and said: Tabitha is mine name. With a look of satisfaction on his face He smiled and murmured to himself "Little Girl" And there they both knew It was meant to be Or was it? He gave her flowers everyday But; She picked all the pedals off of all the flowers But in her heart; She knew he loved her Or did he? _Debbie Doll
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Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 4:47 PM UTC
Tabitha
Living through the night. Sometimes the sweetest dreams keep me awake. Faded. Whispers in moonlight. Subconscious streaming, wishing to be made whole. Tales of heartbreak shatter- happiness screaming. Light, fantasy stroll hijacked, taken by duress. Dragged through the swamp land, washed up on the dreamscape knoll. Eyes bloodshot in stress blinking, staring at today, all the lovely words together like a rose bush dress. Petals floating affray, stumble and slice at the heel. Trailing uncertain passage. A tragic ballet. Dancing feet reveal her strength, and the future glares. But I know she's strong, mighty, like well crafted steel. Though it isn't fair: Living. She reaches her hand, touches my fingers softly. I wake with a scare. My soul, she commands. Relief floods over terror. Crying out, I choke, "Don't go. Stay in our dreamland."
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Afraid of Sleep, Afraid of Losing You
it’s hard to carry dead weight, but i’ve been doing it for years this ebbing relic, growing heavy too cumbersome, your souvenir still, always the optimist, i feign blindness, not to see you glancing back, over your shoulder instead of looking here, at me gentle tugging gone, these heartstrings tattered, all affray you keep Her, white-knuckled in your grip, oblivious to such decay yeah, i know, i know… i know that i “don’t know” oh, but you, you don’t know either, how I close my eyes and see Her sure, She’s gone — but She’s not going anywhere.
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Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
.yours, mine, ours.
He breathes an anguish vow and the darkness blinding close He bids farewell to the affray as the grief never fades away His sorrow tears keep linger on until the last drop of heaven In the mourning he stays awake to keep himself close to the stoic souls and admonish them from macabre His heart erodes with fear but he will madly adorn it with faith and strength when the torn sky heals I see no grave, feeling grateful but he buries himself in the arms of his ancestors s.n
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Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
He
Corpses And Fools I watch her move Like an eel, Slithering, smooth, Wet to the feel, Thrashing shallow pools Midst the deathly cries Of corpses and fools That splash my eyes. She watches me on her shore Like a crane, Peering, strutting, sure Of her pain, Long, slender neck as sublime As a sharpened spike, Rising and falling in time Waiting to strike. Our eyes meet in the night Like fireflies, Flitting, bright, Two lover's in disguise, A struggle, a frenzied ****** She oozes in the affray In a flourish of lust Then slithers silently away. © RJVHorton2014
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Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Corpses And Fools
Come run a while see where her steps will lead On her journey into the great unknown Running breathless onward at breakneck speed Into life's affray no time to postpone No doubt in her mind, soon she will succeed Away we go, just grab the telephone
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
Acrostic for my friend Corina
they say they say that he'll be blown away blown away in a ballot paper display they say they say that he'll have an unfortunate day an unfortunate day of terrible gray they say they say that he'll be made to pay made to pay for his unpredictable play they say they say that he'll receive an unforgiving spray an unforgiving spray from the fifty states array   they say they say that he'll not survive the onslaught's affray the onslaught's affray which is coming his way
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Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
They Say, They Say (Monorhyme Poetry)
The Little Boy Out of a grave dark street On a stiff and sterile morn Walked a stringless marionette With a ghastly ashen form. I clasped my greatcoat close For a ripping wind thrashed by And pencil-thin limbs shuffled Past a man who couldn’t cry. Against the wrath of winter Crying havoc round the lake He wore defiant rags like banners Wildly flapping in his wake. ‘l hope he soon finds shelter’- Thought I wrapped up so warm ‘gainst the whirling swirling leaves And a frenzied snowflake swarm. His face then turned towards me With lifeless stone grey eyes, That seemed to have full  knowledge Of  my  self-supporting lies. So I pursued him boldly As he scurried on his way And threw my coat around him- A shield  to storm’s affray. Alas! I stumbled forward And fell into the snow For the stunted waif I followed Had gone where I could never go.
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Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
The Little Boy
ABCDERIAN poets Army. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Awake my giant cause and fast defend Be proud of your selection to this human race Cheeks to be turned , struck and turned again Discover sooner but not too late my friend Evil forces satirise the devils work Fight for God , however low the demons swoop Gold are his tools and you are living proof. His Holy praises sing in your loudest voice. Incorporated within your kindest thoughts Job satisfaction leads you through the maze Kindred spirits guiding hands along the way Look often then within your beating heart Mindful slay those dragons there to slay. Not too late to kneel and contemplate. Perverse and foolish ? No you will never stray. Quickly learn from all mistakes you make Reserve your strength to lead in the affray Stand up this day and so be counted “IN” To the noblest Army. The Poets unity. Useless gibberish from Satan’s next of kin. Vessels empty makes the loudest din. What matters is that you’re the major source Xanadu your goal , now you are poised to win You are the vanguard of triumphant troops Zoila’s failure to brow-beat any poetic force. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Philip December 4th 2018. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC
ABCDERIAN poets Army
Talk to me, oh summer's day, please, lift me from my silence, this painted room is an eventual tomb, if you don't lead the way. Take me up in purpled light, please, fortify my garden, this barren land and all this shifting sand, it barricades my sight. So, with all the time that I have left, there beats totality in my chest, as I cling to all that is sublime, I've paid my dues and served my time. And time, time always comes to my mind, how shadows lengthen and clocks will wind, but I'll tarry for you, oh summer's day, as you take me from my heart's affray. Talk to me, oh childhood's end, please, gift me with your wisdom, this tarot card predicts a future hard, in the absence of a friend. Love me now, as I fall and bow at the mercy of discovery, I'll take with me only memories, in this paradise recovery.
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Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Paradise Recovery
Icy fog sets in People stay in Walking through a cold wall Walking to stay warm Temperature stays low It's no, no go Ice rules as King today No change to the affray
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Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 11:09 AM UTC
Icy fog sets in