"baits" poems
The Iron Horse can still saddle this Coach,
Whose Extract nourishes the Children he trains:
One the Golden Girl; The Other a Hodge,
Transpose to the Miracle-Boy remains
Two-Scores-and-Four his Dedication baits,
Like Tunes based to emasculate them both
Here in the Pillow-Jungle Success does wait
Bending limbs into Sport; Then promotes their Growth
What Circus! Said the Lame Artist envine
Yet in Prayer begs him to join the Fray
He looked at his Pearls; And saw that they Shine
Which, suspend, trained his Boon-Dogs to obey.
Hence, to Devotion his Shoes retire
Partner and Career; In Big Thanks suspire.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
The antique shop,
a cauldron where memories
from far and near boil and froth,
where chronological order
didn't matter, time stood still,
part real, as much magic,
different lives from distant lands and time
rolled in to one.
Here they met, by chance,a man
and a mysterious woman,with an eye for unusual,
among what was on display were
things a conman would seek
and also favorite stuff fit for kings,
artifacts and articles they must have used
or hankered after.
Past uses these museum pieces
as baits for us, secretly preparing us
to surrender before future,
unkind and rude in mind;
he changed roles as both con and king,
there was a constant yes,
she was the mate in each
he couldn't take eyes off her,
and she asked what he looks for,
"The famous ****** quilt,
that was to be mine twice before,
I missed making it mine,
narrowly every time"
He wondered how did he
make up that story so quick.
"I can take you to the quilt,
but it isn't here" she said
not a bit hesitant
He was flabbergasted by
the turn of events,as if
a hidden scripted move shows the way
They left by her car,
she was eloquent about
the effects of the ****** quilt.
As they stood near the ****** quilt,
in this room he thought was part
of an antique shop, the place looked deserted,
and her eyes shone when she suggestively said
"Want to test the effect? Don't be disappointed"
It wasn't. How could one imagine, that
the quilt can be so voluptuous.
That secret shook him out of his shell,
she had nothing to do with antique of any kind,
just another visitor like him, and the quilt
was an ingenious plot she hatched
in keeping with my sudden flourish,
the quilt, was a new addition in her bed
patch worked in silk, light weight,
it wasn't a blanket, but ****** in its very touch
it was them, the moment of adventure they found
had brought the rapture,who would regret?
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
And gusts a wind that never sleeps
When at the pond arrives a breathless boy,
Knees kneel within the reeds and muck
To glimpse distorted carp beneath.
He counts his boundless hunter's luck
As shiftless as a seaweed wreath,
Then baits the wand that bears his angler's ploy,
And gusts discern he plays for keeps.
This boy roguish
As fish are coy.
And silent in the swaying deeps
The drifting dance of carps who dream and wish
Is ceased by ripples from a splash --
Refractions of the surface shake
As sinks an enigmatic flash:
Allure from realms beyond the lake.
The one that hungers proves the bravest fish,
And silent, at the lure he leaps.
Bravery
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
How can my eyes hunger for tormentors bodies
where in my soul can I find desires for sadists
Eves threw on fitted coats of Marquis de Sade
borrowed his manuals and added even more pages
pierced the heart of a Dove defending his nest with lethal pins
And in joyous indignities with devilment aplomp
they reclined and crackled in wanton doltishness
He thinks of and desires us and wants to make amor with us
How can a heart marinated in love truely sincere
a soul ready to die rather than any harm to Eves
Be mother or sister or perchance even a stranger
alas in utter ********** and grotesque situation dire
Come undone with healthy pristine heart ripped to pieces
hung drawn and quartered and sliced in tiny morsels
Like fish baits for mice and minnows or hens clucking
All at the hands of Sirens who worshipped in Satan's cravens
How can a soul with only the spark of Salvation aglow
where it once housed his heart and enduring humanity
With brimful joy and devotions in fitting measures true
as all Eves where to him nowt but sisters and earth angels
Now his burning blood runs cold like rivelets in the Arctic
their words ring hollow and smiles shows rapiers of snakes
Nothing stirs desires for all Eves now seem and look like wicked corpses
Delilahs' wrecking vengeance on Samsons in wickedness supreme
[email protected] rights reserved
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
#
***My mind to frolic, with words of Frost
Slides between and then is lost
Drifting ‘round to fellows long
My thirst is deep; desires strong
Filled with all that Maya says
Flits in and out my meddling head
And ah, when Pablo speaks of love
My heart's aflutter with pure white doves
Around the beat, who else but Poe
A deep dark place I've come to know
I stop to ponder the words worth
As if I've nursed them from their birth
I settle to hear the rambling brook
Where Gwendolyn baits my eager hook
Then ‘long comes Oscar, running wild
I listen like an eager child
When Langston paints his colored hues
His canvas fills my point of view
Not just the finest spinning me
To this state of flux and reverie
For verses drift from near and far
Forever reaching for the stars
Feeding on the gentle night
I languish in the word's delight
Finding rhyme from ‘neath the skin
The place where passion's settled in
To fill my cup, appease my soul
Till hunger's sated, fat and whole
The empty space behind my eyes
Is filled with life's sweet lullabies
And when at last, I lay to rest
I'm filled with cadence of the best***
#
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
Lays of Mystery,
Imagination, and Humor
Number 1
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
Faint odours of departed cheese,
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never ending sneeze.
Strange pictures decked the arras drear,
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
One showed a vain and noisy ****
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
And one, a dotard grim and gray,
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Whose icy breast no pity warms,
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
And one, a green thyme-honoured Bank,
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
All birds of evil omen there
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
The fatal Notes neglected fall,
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
The wandering phantom broke and fled,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Where lay two worn decrepit men,
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The serving-man of Richard Roe
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waiting on John Doe.
"Oh rouse", I urged, "the waning sense
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence."
"Vain", she replied, "such mockeries:
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please."
And bending o'er that man of straw,
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, "Law!"
The well-remembered voice he knew,
He smiled, he faintly muttered "Sue!"
(Her very name was legal too.)
The night was fled, the dawn was nigh:
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
Vanished that dim and ghostly bed,
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red happy
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
Oh, yet my spirit inly crawls,
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
5.5k
Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be.
If all were as happy as we;
And mutual fear brings peace;
Till the selfish loves increase.
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears.
And waters the ground with tears:
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Caterpillar and Fly
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit.
Ruddy and sweet to eat:
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The Gods of the earth and sea,
Sought thro’ Nature to find this Tree
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain
4.6k
It was a mere young woman, who lived by the sea,
Her house was on the shore, occupied by her family;
The house of a fisherman, that was so tall and slender,
Was built on an island, opposite to her.
It was a starry evening when they both met each other,
When fisherman put some baits on water,
He saw a woman drowning in the sea;
She was caught by his baits accidentally.
The fisherman came to save her;
Brought her at home and gave her anything he can offer.
There they started knowing each other;
Laughing and talking while watching the moon together.
As the moonlight flashed at each other’s eyes,
It showed feelings which suddenly arise.
A feeling pierced sharply like dart
Was the love felt strongly by their heart.
Then the sun rose and ended their beautiful night,
Woman needs to go home and leave his sight.
Poor little fisherman can’t defy;
Hugged the woman and kissed her goodbye.
Months have passed but fisherman was still in woman’s mind.
She love him and it’s difficult to hide,
So she went to the opposite island to see him,
And found fisherman and his wife and child with him.
The woman stepped back and went to the shore;
She drowned herself for life’s not good anymore,
But someone stopped her and grabbed her.
It was fisherman who gladly said “You came back” and pulled her out of the water.
Out spoke the woman, --”You’re now married, so let me die!”
“What? I’m not married, you’re telling a lie!”
“I went to your house and I saw you with your wife and child!”
“That’s my twin brother”, then the fisherman smiled.
Now, it’s the fisherman and the woman living by the sea,
In an island where they both dwell happily.
With the moon above, they exchanged their vows so quiet,
On a lo
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
Shades of yellow cast on our dreams
Skin burning through layers of sunscreen
When gifts of foresight weigh on our beings
Let great powers grow evermore carefree
To satisfy eternity.
Empirical evidence against the empire’s truth
Makes humankind akin to a neurotic fool
Who comes to think that it’ll always nullify
Oh for we all must die!
Young and old both playing their games
Seduced by the baits of short-term gains
Unable to afford the bail out of prison
Wait for great powers to relieve this addiction
To satisfy eternity.
Spawns of decadence in the wake of our new tools
Let us deter suicide with the poisons that soothe
They all say everything will fall, to act seems futile
Oh for we all shall die!
Whether in shame or in desire
Must we forget all we’ve acquired
For yesterday’s pride, tomorrow’s glory
Shake hands with friends and slain the enemy
To satisfy eternity.
Jul 12, 2022
Jul 12, 2022 at 8:33 PM UTC
I'm conflicted by addictions
Choices to be made
Some come with restrictions
The piper must be paid
A small drink after dinner
A smoke out in the yard
Conflicted by addictions
The choices are quite hard
Temptation's round the corner
It's where ever you may look
You're a small fish in the ocean
And the devil baits the hook
Choices are wide open
There are many to be made
But, no matter your direction
The piper must be paid
Compulsive interactions
May drive the train you ride
The devil's the conductor
And he's there right by your side
The devil's in the details
And one day the bill is due
You have to pay the piper
For the choices made by you
He doesn't want your money
He hooked you, that's his goal
Your addictive interactions
Cost you dearly with your soul
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
ten men fishing
on auckland wharf
all with thin fibreglass rods
just that exact distance
(made in china)
all watching each others baits
bobbing in the silver sheen
no one watching his own sinker
bobbing
one twitches down the line
a reel swishes
reeling in
nine men watching intently now
20 cm struggling catch
not much, so back it goes.
a bronze whaler
slinking slowly
under twenty pairs of dangling feet
decides
the distance was too much
to crunch a man for snack
quietly slinks
to the opposite shore
where she senses
feet splashing on a shallow beach.
primitive.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 months ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11438556-the-fishermen-on-the-wharf-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.HWKslwYM.dpuf
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
“Thank You for Being
Such a Valued Customer”
From the Satellite Provider
And, oh! Have we got a deal for you!
We looted a channel, we’ve raised your rates
We know you’ve paid, but you’re still overdue
We teased you with some weekend movie baits
Which ought to be included anyway
We’re the worst service in history’s annals
We fu(dge) your contract almost every day
And
We want you to buy even more channels!
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
She loves it
when we go fishing,
enjoys all of the activities,
spearing & angling,
gathering & netting,
anything to get
down on the shore.
Her boy in the boat
always bounces,
craves more of my dangling.
She's a looker,
baits my hook just right,
I don't fight her
& it ain't no shrimp.
Nooooo,
no wimp here,
I always use my big long pole
looking for her sweet fishing-hole.
When I finally get there,
find the right spot,
I scrape her scales
from every conceivable angle
to uncover her tasty pearl.
I give her a whirl,
shuck the shell out of her
as she squeezes me hard
with her tight mussel,
ready to receive my roe,
a splish,
a splash,
a huge shot
of my hot cocktail sauce,
curling her toes.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Freedom …
It’s just a line.
Dominion Dominates.
The Republic baits the hooks with choice then
Casts the lines to catch those brave enough to bite.
We have all bitten.
Hook line and sinker.
Sink or swim is irrelevant because out of the water
We are out of our element.
Placed in a new environment with the worm of freedom in our bellies we are blissful.
Yet, we cannot breathe. Short of air, yet without a care the worm provides the mirage we need.
We fall prey to our captors with ease, as we delve deeper and deeper into slumber.
Fortune crushes the brave, as we ate the line with the bait essential to our life.
Caught in our own folly of freedom flayed with knives the worm is gone.
Bought and sold in markets kept fresh on ice for those who caught us then
We are cooked or fried in order to keep the fishermen alive.
Freedom after all…
It was just a line.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
afterparty mingle in a single bedroom vault wincing ceiling slopes so low condemning matter dance to fumbles and more penetrating life forces gum-balls into stressed room couple and squirm over into the crawl space hazardous music and metallic humour is pushing risks and insult no being is out of place pouting the smoke and store brand alcohol routing and deafening and defeating too much the gagster comes thundering down the corridor like he was wrought for applause he addresses those outside the room and it's wagging dogs and a face of cartoony ballooning pep it's hard to handle the wash of wording an assault of enthusiasm jester baits laughter with an old polaroid camera slamming open the door all tension his way he presses the button and projects them all against the walls 'Flash ****** ! ' he squells throws aside the camera 'People Pile!' he thumps into the crowd bed begging a play fight baroque girl hugging her knees crammed under the small sink to the side of the door reaches out a nervy hand and takes the discarded camera watches the ********** photo paper fade in slow retch her own pose lone excluded soul separate and saved she leaves with souvenir
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 6:22 PM UTC
2am and he asks if I want to ****
With no attempt to butter me up
I tell him it all depends on time
It's funny, he doesn't ask to be mine
He tells me he has all the time in the world
I start to wonder if I'm that kind of girl
I tell him not to waste his gas
I guess he thinks I'm a great piece of ***
He baits me with promises of fun
Yet he doesn't try to convince me that he's the one
I tell him that I'm going to bed
He's not getting into my head
He says we'll talk another day
Only if I want it that way
I love it when he asks if I want to **** and smoke
It makes me feel special . . . or like the **** of a joke
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
This poem is my presence,
In a world devoid of its quintessence
It needs not know my name,
'Cause I ain't looking for fame
I ain't looking for love,
Already got it from above
I ain't looking for gold,
'Cause shit's free when I'm old
Neither am I looking for recognition,
'Cause I have my own mission
One's losing is another's winning,
But this oblivious planet
just keeps spinning
Why pursue something that fades,
But ignore the crisis that pervades?
We're living in a world full of baits,
Constantly making us salivate,
Towards the things that manipulate
The brittle but
truth immaculate,
Where dialectics and debates
Flourish and permeate,
But situations only exacerbate
Love now, 'til it's too late
iamthe_avatar ©2016
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 5:18 AM UTC
her eyes whisper
"step closer"
lips tease
this Mr. Freeze
with barely a graze
leavin the lion in a daze
as the gazelle
walks away
knowing well
her smell
and gait
and the subtle look
has her man on the hook
and salivatin
in anticipation
for the meal at hand
he holds her hand
and whips her around
grabs her close
her smile is wide
and intoxicating
windows to the soul
send sensual vibes
to his very core
she kisses him
his body tenses and relaxes
all at once
i couldn't get this high
wit a thousand blunts
thunder in my ears
lightning in my skin
and fire in my being
i blink
and all of a sudden
the nymph
is like a glimpse
and barely there
i still smell sweetness
and feel soft hair
i walk a little further
she's there and looking back
with the most mischievous
display of teeth
and twinkle in her eye
i smile and give a sigh
tonight she simply baits her catch
another night perhaps.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
Still my body lays interred
Earth now cover
Silence now baits
Wasted breath upon
Goodbyes
Closed are my eyes to the world above
Yet all around I see
How this life I led
Made me bleed
Rain shall soak this frail soul
And the sickness cleaned
From a heart that couldn't love
Have pity on me
Until the sun sets
Then wipe away all sorrow felt
For a lost man lays deep within
And the wind blows
So harsh and cruel
Upon a wasted day
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Ring ring, screamed the teens phone,
Ding **** cried the bell,
No ones answered a door for a friend,
Since the great wifi curtain fell,
Pay no attention to what you can be,
A wonderful world awaits,
Ran by blood and money,
Oh! The beauty of business baits,
The one true God,
the almighty dollar,
Dethrones that fraud.
And silences a Hollar.
Why feed the hungry,
When you can feed yourself,
Why give clean water,
When you can stock your shelf?
Well maybe I'm just tired,
Of always making excuses,
And maybe im just sick,
Of the horrible things we do,
I want a world desired,
Otherwise we're all useless.
I've given up on the *****
That claims he wants what's best for you.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Dapping on the surface
Trailing a wake of
Rehashed hard luck stories
Mis-spent dreams and
Might have beens
Heedless that he is out-depthed
He holds to his line
And works the bar
Tied by a master
Plumage plucked to order
Starling blue, sparrow dun
Two fine threads
Gold and black
Crosswound, tied off
Sealed with honeywax -
Stealthy weapon of deception
He feels the shifting currents
He reads the weather-gauge
Spring tide, autumn flood
Both echo in his veins
Gnarly and half-sodden
The old fly baits his game
Past his best, yes - but
Potent all the same
*The fish are wary
But the fly is patient*
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC
An uncompassionate crowd of 20,000
are tensely sitting in a stadium
bloodthirstily waiting for a cruel spectacle
they call a ‘bulllfight’
which is actually a ‘bull-harass-and-kill’.
This brutal bloodsport
is celebrated as a national artform
in Spain
so the matadors (bullfighters) strut around proudly
in their suits of golden thread
to loud cheers and excited applause.
The bull, frightened suffering,
is harassed and killed in three stages:
The first stage is called ‘tercio de varas’
‘the lancing third’
when armoured-horse mounted lancers
use a long sharp lance
to spear the bull behind his shoulder muscles
to weaken the bull’s neck muscles
and begin the bull’s loss of blood;
The second stage is called ‘tercio de banderillas’
‘the third of banderillas’
when the matador attacks the bleeding-weakening bull
with banderillas (sharp barbed sticks)
stabbing the banderillas above the shoulder blades of the bull
to anger and agitate
the frightened bull fighting for his life.
The third stage is called ‘tercio de muerte’
‘the third of death’
when the matador baits the bull
with a red cape
then stabs the bull with a steel sword
aiming for his heart
but often missing
leaving the bull suffering multiple stab-wounds
bleeding, slowly miserably dying.
I wonder
when will this barbaric bull-harass-and-kill
be banned in all nations?
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
The ink on my nib has run dry.
The cursor is flashing, giving me the evil eye.
Shakespeare, Longfellow and even Poe; know.
Know the loneliness of a dry pen.
At least they were spared the "tic,tic,tic" of the accursed cursor.
Mockingly it baits my thinking, sending me round the bend.
Poe had a Raven send him mad, I've got a cursor.
(In computer user interfaces, a cursor is an indicator used to show the current position for user interaction on a computer monitor or other display device that will respond to input from a text input or pointing device. The mouse cursor is also called a pointer, owing to its resemblance in usage to a pointing stick.)
The curse of the cursor.
That's what I have, not a dry pen, but an impatient line blinking.
Always blinking. Does it go to sleep?
It's the refrigerator light of doom, you try to catch it unawares;
but NO.
It still blinks.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
Wah would I have never to see her again
Wah did I do to her bleeding heart once then
Wah was it I did and yet did not too say so well
Wah was it and who's cast under who's casted spells
Wah baits and switches me quick in such which-eries
Wah was it unexpectedly now and then again again
Wah a pet up set up upset and talking is cheaper
Wah and phoning is phony for nothing dear
Wah more is dear more than riding her
Wah heart in arms eyes and all
Wah woman woman woe
Wah woe pony quake
Wah ride or earth
Wah shatters
Wah Q
U
A
K S
E
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Casting lines
dropping jigs
some of them tipped with pig
Chicken liver
on the river
channel, Blues or yellow cats
Texas Rig
rattle Trap
pull out that hot spot map
Spinner baits
attracting blades
casting lures in the shade
Spin cast
snoopy pole
custom rod, medium fast
Crappie and largemouth
catfishing in the south
lakes or rivers, even streams
sometimes of the gulf we dream
Finger mullet on the line
waiting on the drag to whine
sharks or rays, even trout,
man that what it's all about
Whiting or croaker
let's go catch some Redfish
or salmon for the smoker
Northern pike and walleyes
white bass and panfish
fishing under blue skies
Bring a rod and a reel
tackle box and cold beer
at the lake its the deal
Cast and wind
catch and clean
fried blackened or steamed
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:43 AM UTC