"bayed" poems
Rust downing like bayed menstrual blood--
booming steel walls...a rattling sanitation truck.
Housewarming...'the rough beast' in
fetal orbit...nay-toothed in squalor.
Whose gummy roar shall presage the
audacity of all places, that call forth
houses!!!
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
*From day one,
I warned you of my heat.
Why haven’t you learned
don’t play with me,
if you can’t take the heat.
The cards are on the table son,
pick your game,
but be careful my friend,
for the devil already won.
Have you ever danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight?
His violan bayed at the moon,
as the devil danced with the shadows
on the street.
He gambles with your soul,
he makes you move your feet.
Don’t dance with the devil,
unless you can handle the heat.
© By Amanda D Shelton
*
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
So I’m marrying this young girl, see,
it’s the second time round.
My first wife died and
I’ve been struggling and drowning.
So I'm clutching the life raft
of this girl who is beautiful and young,
who’s romantic and sure of her ground,
and she and her family believe
that I can breathe and survive again.
Me? Can I remember how to be gentle and kind to them?
It was luck. I was lucky before.
Because now I'm a veteran of the thousand campaigns
and I’ve bayed at the moon, see,
then I hunted with The Beast.
And anyway, my first wife and I
********* her name is Lorayne!)
suffered, and then suffocated
before our love soared so high.
Then we danced like fireflies, fabulously,
until the future ended forever.
So how can this new girl
find ecstasy with me and, and,
you know, live happily ever after,
which is such an impossible dream,
and how can I handle all this ******* purity
and innocence and beauty and youth
and flawless skin and fairy tale stuff
when I’m so gnarled
and twisted and knotted?
You see, I'm actually deeply ashamed.
In spite of my much vaunted campaigns,
I'm really a coward.
I'm afraid I can't drag myself back and do this again.
Can we possibly become fireflies and dance in the flame?
Yes, yes, I know.
We'll swear to love and to honor and to obey
in sickness and in health
in richness and in poorness
until death do us part.
Though this formula's too cute. It doesn't mention the pain.
But there's no other option. I must try to rise up again,
and alright, once more, I'll call on the flame.
So I'll cast out my demons and force them away.
Somehow, I'll hold those monsters at bay to give you
the light and the love you say
is still there, everywhere.
You are wide-eyed and oh, so naive.
But I desperately want to believe you.
I need you.
Oh god, I hope we can love without fear.
Mike T Minehan
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
Moon drops splayed themselves
as though crystal blankets on summers ethereal stream,
Violet memories traced her deep obsidian eyes
How she beseeched Lethe’s empty flow
Night stars dreamed of patchouli perfumed rhymes
Ebon blooms dance with dulcet tones,
And fireflies whimsically danced to tune
Unspent words whispered from bottles of hope stored,
Hypnotized by sweet bees, her heart swept laden fruit groves
─ As hunger ate her soul
Eucalyptus his breath against a smoked filled dawn
A wood fire burned and hands clasped content
Tender his silk fingers traced blush her lips,
Consecrated by night she devoured poetic blooms
Of gold the cauldron blazed how yellow the young flame
One drop be lemon acid boiled black she sang,
Tasting dreams on smoke tarnished in polished prose,
How she bayed to moon’s blueberry gaze and bled geranium red,
By his voice herbs and stones weep and she forgets
─ she forgets, only the night moon bleeds
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Of darkness to unfold,
I know where the boats go.
Tales that shouldn’t be told,
Of souls, demons told, “No.”
Where forth the demons bayed,
No other place love shown.
Forced evil seen and slayed,
Darkness is where I go.
Finding nights of terror,
Tears lingering unknown.
Knowing you of all things,
Let gone, a deathly glow…
Wincing and knocking, no…
A rattle and tattle,
Death dark and all alone…
The wind felt breezed and cold,
The chilling breath spirit.
Not known… till screeching end…
This all too conclude so,
Tales that shouldn’t be told…
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 12:04 AM UTC
The bayed back feeling that once was you
Boiling down the ethereal , in differences
I cross the twi's lights knowing I will be
here . . . for a thousand years
This is astound , no reason is clear
Where the smell of grass comes to pass
You remember a kiss that won't disappear
. . . . . . beyond a thousand years
Tuesday . . . dragging the clouds away
Hearing the voices that were never there
Telling me to hang my ethereals out to dry
It may take a thousand years
Cold hearted orb dressed in white satin
embrace the shadows you cast across
Tell all the Knights lacking they cannot win
Not in a thousand years
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
Goodmorning, Donald, my sick friend.
I've come to help you tweet again
Because your vision's simply creepy,
Has left you vulnerable to tweet with me.
And these visions I have planted in your brain
Are quite insane
Within the bounds of violence.
Of careless schemes you talk by phone.
Narrowed choices cobbled in stone
'Neath my control, you are a champ.
I turn your thinking to the cold and damp
Through your eyes stabs the flash of terror and fright
That blocks all light
Revealing the bounds of violence.
And in this blackened night I saw
Your MAGA People, by the score.
People jeering without speaking.
People fearing without listening.
So you tweet along to voices that they share.
And so they care
To set the bounds of violence.
"Tools," say I, "With Trump you'll know
Violence, likens more and grows.
Read Trumps words that he might teach you.
Feel my charms so I might reach you,"
And Trumps words like giant droplets fell
Which scattered cross the bounds of violence.
And these people cowed and bayed
To the tweets The Don had made.
And the News Reports flashed out warnings
But their words were never quite forming.
And the News said,
The Tweets of the POTUS are written as satanic calls
When darkness falls.
And prospers the bounds of violence."
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
i trained a bloodhound in my quest
to find the fount of youth
upon its memory impressed
the habits of a sleuth
round every rock and grass and tree
it spied what others could not see
in search of one most abstract hopeful truth
the training ground was in the park
where children roamed and played
the bloodhound, trained to bay and bark
where innocence displayed
it sniffed the scent of every child
with purity not yet defiled
its diligence always duly repaid
by daily treks its efforts grew
enthusiastically
and by the same i surely knew
the end was soon to be
round pools and lakes and finally
a river leading to the sea
the fount of youth would soon belong to me
at last one day upon the dawn
the time was now at hand
it came to me, my head it fawned
its tail most quickly fanned
the hound had licked my head around
it barked and bayed and i had found
the end was quite unlike what i had planned
(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
Always was always
So certain in it's way
Never could you change it's mind
Or how it would have it's say
Her eyes are made up of sunsets
But she holds the Moon at bay
Her eyes are waters
But the sea is receding away
Her eyes are full of Shadows
She questions every thing I say
The Gemini was born
But three days past the Bull
In a land full of richness
Down hill from the sugar mill
Where illusions are surely
Cut , dried and pulled
Her hands are empty
The wind begins to blow
Her hands are fingered
But I see no rings aglow
Her hands are waving
But I am so far and so . . .
Her hands now falter
Over a heart so full of grief to go
Her hands are longing for touching
And some pure belief
Her hands are lingering . . .
Reaching for some peace
The ships come into
The safety of the Harbor
Then dock and rope
There upon the warf
The gang plank unloads it's cargo
Tons of sorrow and remorse
But this widow stands
Not among the chorus
She twists and turns in a black laced
Chiffon party dress
And the bayed back moon
Is peeping through the shifty clouds
Humming a song of freedom
Before the clouds get it moving on along
Oh . . . oh her eyes were sunsets , sunsets !
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
A wolf sauntered near the flock
of innocent white sheep,
and in that cunning mind he thought
"I think I'll have some fun."
He loudly bayed behind a rock,
and sat with toothy grin.
And let his laughter thunder loud
to chase their panicked run.
The flock of innocent white sheep
shot straight into the air.
With startled hearts they ran about,
save one too slow,
was trampled unknown down.
Innocent sheep with minds so dull,
felt a body under hoof.
At once in heart they all believed
they had felled the big bad wolf.
No longer innocent, these sheep,
turned with eyes red glaring.
They every one chose a stick
and killed their brother there.
The wolf had not expected this;
jaw dropping in despair.
He thought aloud while running off,
"Of blood this time I'm innocent,
and blessed I'm not a sheep!"
The moral of these verses,
you may have early guessed,
those sheep aren't sheep at all,
but really you and me.
Wolves will bay, snarl and snap,
so that we'll fear for life.
Instead of racing for ourselves,
pick the weaker up.
It's only then we'll cease to be
a flock of mindless sheeple.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 5:35 AM UTC
The winter wind swept the willows
Off their leafless branches,
Because these crying trees
are bare until springtime.
Asdarkness crept slowly,
The old Dog bayed,
Crying out to all ,
All with whom he played.
Night fell, turning the
Sky to sinister sorrow.
With twinkling stars,
bright against the dark velvet sky.
The icy wind bit at the
Canines body, tearing his
Thin skin from his bony flesh.
Whimpering, whimpering in his
Slumber, dreaming of warmth
That cannot be, flames, Fire.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
I cannot sleep, for I'm nursing a sheep,
A coughing, sputtering lamb;
I cannot rest, for I'm doing my best
My medicinal best that I can.
Mama was young, and she knew no demands
For how to care, it was told;
Mama was scared, and she left them to stand
And to freeze in the shuddering cold.
Baby girl died, it was frosty and bleak
Under that black food bowl she lay;
Baby girl died, she was so unique
The size of a child's shoe, she bayed.
So here I sit nursing a poor coughing lamb,
Here I sit nursing a sick deathly man,
Here I sit hoping-just maybe- he'll live,
Futilely promising my life for his.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
I hate you all
So full of confidence
With all made for lust
Cheaters, cursed hearts
Nothing to you matters
You made like this
Proved my worth
My mind, my ***
Made me a *****
Revenge, a cheat
Crushed my love
Worthless, bayed
I can never trust
Never fair
I see your clumsy groping hands
Not just here, but everywhere
Women, never safe, guarded, scared
I take my pleasure
With your grounded bones
My knife in your back
My claws in your guts
Blood on my fangs
I **** from your life
Drain you whole
You are not worth my time
Not worth my heels
You destroyed my ability to love
Untrustful and bitter
Jaded, sour, and *****
I hate you all
Blame you; die
I'll **** you slow
**** your minds
Bind you in leather
Beat you with b' wire
Slaves, you all, to lust
I might have been
I could have done
I cannot trust
I'll have revenge
I'll bleed you dry
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
Monday Morning
When I opened the kitchen door the fridge had an attack of the shakes
then feel into dejected stillness which bayed in my ears.
To break this force of nothingness I spoke and sounded like a duck and
the beer bottle held in my clammy hand fell
with a foamy splash on the floor; wordless
Fear…why me?
The fridge rattled again but there was nothing of worth on its shelves other than bacon, eggs, cheese…Stop, I feel sick.
Turned on the tap and fat maggots dropped into my glass, that too ended
on the floor; fled, outside people, starred at me because
I was dressed in a red bathrobe with Hotel Astor stamped on the back.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
heel to toe--
on walk.
mindful.
waters curling
toes.
as it was along
side her bayed
pranam.
almost toppled
over from bliss
several times.
watching birds
fly over everchanging
water.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 2:49 AM UTC
with tangled beard, free minds most feared
i penned a loaded gun
through landscapes cheered its
message clear
million masked beneath the son
madness spread
left most dead
you see what i have done?
lock your door
prepare for war
for bayed my rebel tongue
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC