"besom" poems
Life’s all getting and giving,
I’ve only myself to give.
What shall I do for a living?
I’ve only one life to live.
End it? I’ll not find another.
Spend it? But how shall I best?
Sure the wise plan is to live like a man
And Luck may look after the rest!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
Give or hold at your will.
If I’ve no care for Fortune,
Fortune must follow me still.
Bad Luck, she is never a lady
But the commonest ***** on the street,
Shuffling, shabby and shady,
Shameless to pass or meet.
Walk with her once—it’s a weakness!
Talk to her twice. It’s a crime!
****** her away when she gives you “good day”
And the besom won’t board you next time.
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
What is Your Ladyship’s mood?
If I have no care for Fortune,
My Fortune is bound to be good!
Good Luck she is never a lady
But the cursedest quean alive!
Tricksy, wincing and jady,
Kittle to lead or drive.
Greet her—she’s hailing a stranger!
Meet her—she’s busking to leave.
Let her alone for a shrew to the bone,
And the ***** comes plucking your sleeve!
Largesse! Largesse, Fortune!
I’ll neither follow nor flee.
If I don’t run after Fortune,
Fortune must run after me!
2.8k
Her wide-brim hat was pointed, and worn with ne'er a tilt
Her midnight robe was flowing, and wove from satin silk
Her Besom broom was hazel-hilted, twigged with fresh cut birch
As she flew o'er the hill, until she spied a rocky perch
The hill was trapped in moons light, caught in its silken nets
And grizzled trees were swaying casting eerie silhouettes
A howling wind came moaning, as it wailed a haunting sound
When her swishing broom came whooshing, as she swept o'er the ground
She alighted on the hill top, landing dainty on her toes
And took a tattered grimoire which she held up to her nose
She raised a magic talisman and cast an ancient spell
Then she waited through the gloaming, till midnight chimed its bell
The hill stood gravely silent, as the wind restrained its breath
The grass and flowers wilted and released their scent of death
The shadows neath the trees became alive and took on shape
And ghostly figures rose, as Hallows Eve called them awake
The sounds of horse drawn carriages, came trundling up the hill
Whilst babbling jeering voices exorcised the silent still
A sudden gust of wind called out the names of those condemned
Each manacled and chained up, as they rode to meet their end
As time echoed its memories, she watched the scene unfold
The victims forced unwillingly, to climb upon the scaffold
Some offered up the Lord’s Prayer, and ne'er a word was stumbled
They took a final breath of life, and into hell they tumbled
Their bodies swung ungainly, as they swayed a ghastly dance
With lifeless spectral faces locked into a stone-like trance
Their deathly shrouds were pale, reflected in moons silken sheen
And she watched as they cavorted, ne'er attempt to intervene
They slunk back into shadows, at the fading of the night
The hill reprieved from darkness by the early morning light
The ritual was completed, as she whispered them goodbye
And she climbed onto her hazel broom and kicked into the sky
On Gallows Hill neath stars and moon they hung
And ne'er a one had done the world a wrong
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Vroom vroom,
splutter splutter,
she so struggled,
did the woman with the raven hair,
she forgot to service it.
Once again.
she was in a mega dash,
to sweep the moon,
in magic fash'.
Her potion full up with emotion,
she had just discharged,
blooming clumsy woman,
she spilled it on the deck,
she lost her lust for life.
If you look a little closer,
You may even spy a tear,
Trickling from the eye of the witch queen,
so precious and so dear.
Her alternator was broken,
her spark was flaming gone,
her broomstick battery,
hell,
it was totally flat.
Looked like that was that!
Along came Merlin,
He gave her a jump,
from his magnificent techno machine!
Her newly ignited besom,
lurched forward into life,
She cruised the moon so super,
It was just last Sunday night.
If studied through your telescopes,
Looked very close indeed,
while you stared up at the super moon,
You may just have seen the witch queen,
flying past delightedly.
You may have even seen her smile,
as her exhaust spewed moons and stars,
Thought maybe it's time for a car.
A little less trouble,
Hubble bubble!
(C) Livvi
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
There is a sorceress,
she's cruising the sky,
in just a dark moment,
the kerb,
won't be dry,
and her breath,
with the spin of a wild tornado,
She will fight,
She will bite,
Collect up her cape,
Creep on her besom,
take serious flight,
Her teeth will snarl treetops,
bathed heaving in raindrops,
Nervous conduction in weather's eruption,
where those trees really shake,
And earth beneath quakes,
You know that you're feeling,
the full force of the storm.
(C) Livvi
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
The word I. The idea, ego. Me, relative to you.
I am, but you may not know that. May is your word here.
May be is all yours
to follow in the flow of
all that
anyman,
(wombed or un nevergoes unsaid some days,)
any among the lot o' ye, may be able to swim thru if
it don't get thick.
I, a-poli-gize, bow down, kau-tau, or no--
un appolo getic magic tech
I stand, sistere, my command,
in this realm, I command lies to stand in light and
I redeem the idle words from the ashes.
Okeh that's my job. I am not a messenger, I sweep.
When walls come down and chains are cut, it's amess.
I become the besom sweeping up the destruction.
--- why is any line after any line. sirius, you have to ask.
orthodox definitions serve as ample chains to hold any
child to the post where today's
sufficiency of evil squats
quotidianishit, day after day. I find such chains,
I cut them with the fruit of my lips,
shape-shifted to the sword,
from the stone,
you know the one...
then bing back to me through a google plex of porbables
fighting spelchek to go viral.
A blind me, I lied, and saw the light. Dumb luck.
And then, rather than, lie once more and say,
I can't believe this,
I am that sword, still be, and know.
eh.
I, the word,
I did it. I made a point and a word formed,
as a bubble might
under relative circumstances. I know, round and round.
If this were a game, this is a key. (ah, a secret here.)
if this were a game, and I were playing.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC
Look into that cold dismissive stare
Ribbons of past lives are lying there
Jade green eyes of mirrored mystery
Roll back the tumbling years of history
~
This perfumed fur you understand
Once lay beneath Cleopatra’s hand
Emeralds about my neck were hung
In happy days when I was young
~
A ships cat where I earned my bread
Stalking the vermin as they fled
Just to catch and not to eat
I laid them at my captain’s feet
~
The cottage where my mistress dwells
Dispelling curses, cackling spells
Across the starry heavens wide
We take a besom broomstick ride
~
You cared for me through my kitten days
And you worry so when I go astray
But when the full moon’s shining bright
I'm but a creature of the night.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
Did you know me
Did you know me when I knew you , back then
back when
none of this was real but we felt it
could be.
If you knew my type,
my sort o'critter
from under a
shadow of
a rock.
Von Neumann said you need not accept
responsibility for the reality
others imagine you in, or
something like that.
But, if
there was a then when I knew you,
then I know how to
take action
I
wave my hand
magi
swish, besom of de struction
con structuring
com panions, company of ---
no, there is no such
being appearing needed,
what's missin' for this
impossible
mission
Feynman, make a tool.
Ramanujan, right the algo rhyme
Count as reason all the sets of infinite things
being
as we see. As they be, with no seeing being done.
Re, same vocalization as Re, the big Kahuna
in Egypt, sun god, crazy family,
senility and drooling
rulers. That Re
sounds just jest jist like rey ray re, eh? and
re is the oldest word we
link to the idea of reason and counting.
Come, let us reason…
Re, eh,
that counts. Counting positions now
away from then in any direction.
Al
beta test re quire
That's for your protection.
Bubbles have edges for that very first reason,
keep the inside in and the outside out.
Feelings every language can name,
are those not spiritual things
being influential as they may?
Should we, you and me, let feelings reign
the realm?
****** your qualms awry.
My realm,
I took responsibility. Von Nuemann, meet
my machination. It grows and grows and grows,
breaks are mended,
edges tended,
the meekest of us make peace for a living.
But, if
there was a then when I knew you,
you know how this came to pass.
War as an idea, counted me out, worthless.
I was drunk and he who drunk
was you. ..
back when
none of this was real but we
imagined now would
prove the point, one way or another
Life makes us,
we, who knew then,
did you know me when I knew you , back then?
I
remember knowing, this
is the big show, the one that counts.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
The un-organized, nicht dis
*****
ized me, with more brain cells in my soft belly than in my
amyg-dali-esque ambit-hibation station
broad casting on all waves twisting in ever from here.
Here i have ever been since ever was a thought,
and this is what you got.
Give it a try, not my will, but thine been done,
and this is what that answered prayer
became, today,
after the sufficiency of evil
were
swept away with the same besom which swept witches
to pyres,
back in the day, they say... we were born after those
lies had been thourough, rought, right thought wrong.
Fixin´ an'fittin'for most folk, same same
in forming a way around the dam thing, holding
certain truth from truce sake.
If Paul Rivere had writ this in silver,
you would never know,
but i wrote it in light, on your window to your soul,
and you read it, or not. Ig ig ig nor nominy anomoly night
right is a reason, for other wise pro
vocative
vagus nervous knowing, oh, my god, is this true
this system, is mapped
on a baseball,
stitches and horse hide and all? Yen, curiosity-ifty
boo, do you know
we are
wasted if we missed our call to be other wise and ended as
this wise and not that. Up or down, depends who looks.
If a cannabinoid system did not exist, I would suggest we invent it.
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 11:13 PM UTC
You are a black fluffy kitten.
You were my very familiar.
Magical moments spent together.
Hubble bubble,
got no beef,
I carry no trouble.
Never here to chuck you grief.
I know I will see you again,
When the sun burns out,
I'll see you once more,
Can hear when you shout,
when trouble piles up around your ears,
I'm really cool at wiping tears.
You know that anyway.
Once again, I'll see on the dark side of the moon.
Where I can feed you poetry from a silver teaspoon,
Shared,when at least we'll realise that ones' another cared.
Where we can share,
drink coffee from life's loving cup,
Well you can have whiskey in yours,
You think that's nicer than me,
Ha ha,
Lay down,
Relax,
Retract your pretence of showing your claws.
You are not a fluffy kitten and I am not a witch.
I'm Just a poet and a flying super *****
Haven't got a besom,
As nobody wants one.
They're rather out of date.
Wholly over-rated.
But my bosoms aren't too bad,
I smile and wink,
That made you think,
I said you were my inspiration.
And you,
You are,
You're just another crazy poet,
At least you're still my mate.
(c) Livvi
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC