"blazoned" poems
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed
His great sow:
Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid
In the same way
He kept the sow--impounded from public stare,
Prize ribbon and pig show.
But one dusk our questions commended us to a tour
Through his lantern-lit
Maze of barns to the lintel of the sunk sty door
To gape at it:
This was no rose-and-larkspurred china suckling
With a penny slot
For thrift children, nor dolt pig ripe for heckling,
About to be
Glorified for prime flesh and golden crackling
In a parsley halo;
Nor even one of the common barnyard sows,
Mire-smirched, blowzy,
Maunching thistle and knotweed on her snout-
cruise--
Bloat tun of milk
On the move, hedged by a litter of feat-foot ninnies
Shrilling her hulk
To halt for a swig at the pink teats. No. This vast
Brobdingnag bulk
Of a sow lounged belly-bedded on that black
compost,
Fat-rutted eyes
Dream-filmed. What a vision of ancient hoghood
must
Thus wholly engross
The great grandam!--our marvel blazoned a knight,
Helmed, in cuirass,
Unhorsed and shredded in the grove of combat
By a grisly-bristled
Boar, fabulous enough to straddle that sow's heat.
But our farmer whistled,
Then, with a jocular fist thwacked the barrel nape,
And the green-copse-castled
Pig hove, letting legend like dried mud drop,
Slowly, grunt
On grunt, up in the flickering light to shape
A monument
Prodigious in gluttonies as that hog whose want
Made lean Lent
Of kitchen slops and, stomaching no constraint,
Proceeded to swill
The seven troughed seas and every earthquaking
continent.
6.5k
MESSENGER
Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; then with thee
To fight, and either slaying near thee die,
Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,
Requite in kind his proper banishment.
Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods
Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,
With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.
A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,
With twofold blazon riveted thereon,
For there a woman leads, with sober mien,
A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;
Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--
'This man I will restore, and he shall hold
The city and his father's palace homes.'
Such the devices of the hostile chiefs.
'Tis for thyself to choose whom thou wilt send;
But never shalt thou blame my herald-words.
To guide the rudder of the State be thine!
ETEOCLES
O heaven-demented race of Oedipus,
My race, tear-fraught, detested of the gods!
Alas, our father's curses now bear fruit.
But it beseems not to lament or weep,
Lest lamentations sadder still be born.
For him, too truly Polyneikes named,--
What his device will work we soon shall know;
Whether his braggart words, with madness fraught,
Gold-blazoned on his shield, shall lead him back.
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Guided his deeds and thoughts, this might have been;
But neither when he fled the darksome womb,
Or in his childhood, or in youth's fair prime,
Or when the hair thick gathered on his chin,
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Nor in this outrage on his Fatherland
Deem I she now beside him deigns to stand.
For Justice would in sooth belie her name,
Did she with this all-daring man consort.
In these regards confiding will I go,
Myself will meet him. Who with better right?
Brother to brother, chieftain against chief,
Foeman to foe, I'll stand. Quick, bring my spear,
My greaves, and armor, bulwark against stones.
4.8k
Not snowy seraphs of heaven above
Nor lustrous gems by heaven's stonking wall,
Shall outshine the eternal mark of love
Thou blazoned upon the skin of my soul.
Though midst my wake and dreaming hours I know,
Heaven's meanest pier is of burnished gold,
And celestial shores chatoyant than snow,
But all not as bright as the mark I hold.
For when fickle time in layers of life
Shalt shroud me, and away I must then run
To meet the judge of souls, lest lasting grief
Were my soul's fate, I mean to burn and burn,
The fragrance of thy love could still linger
Freshly upon my soul's fading ember.
*#Decasyllabic
#Iambic pentameter
#Quatrains
#Couplet
#Shakespearean sonnet*
Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Jumeirah, Dubai, 14th.Jan.2018.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
But the arsonist in a world of carpenters.
I’ve got matches at the salute,
wired blazoned between my every ashened knuckle,
heart beat furious
I’ll be this worlds iron furnace.
Their flames dance and sprawl
through flaunted finger
and slide of hand,
I’m the psychopath
and these flames children to command.
I dwindle fractured beaten to broken
hardly live to bless lips with breath.
I’ve but one choice,
to torch this world to a forever neverness
or stumble shadeless,
a shadow to brush past life to exist to view.
Always wishing to make a difference, to move, to make new.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:18 AM UTC
Therein the hearth lies warmth
The warmth of a long old fire
That burns with such fragrance and love
Warming generations
And some say
It's just an old wood stove
Cast iron
Two double hinged doors
One covered with tin
Glass busted and gone long ago
The other door
Ornate stained glass
Blazoned with family memories
Even in the summer a gathering place
And some say
It's just an old wood stove
What care given to stoke the flame
Just to keep the family warm
Day and night it never dimmed
And everyone still gathers around it
Countless years burned by one family
And some would still say
It's just an old wood stove
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
Is a true hero one like Superman?
Name spread across the front page
Bold symbol blazoned across his chest
Or maybe a hero is like Batman
Operating in the shadows
Name barely dared whispered by evildoers
On the off chance he'll appear.
Perhaps a heroine is like Oracle
Helping from behind the scenes
Relaying crucial information
Maybe Daredevil is,
Defeating personal as well as social
Obsctacles, physical and mental
But no, I think a true hero is brave
Or kind or welcoming or even
Small-scale rebel or revolutionary
And needs no emblem shot into the skies
Needs no great ceremony of recognition
Or semblance of public thanks
Just a smile, or the thought that
A life has been changed for the better.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic **********
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
I feel keenly the quiet of many dead suns
Growing inside of me,
A biting blackness
Leaching out towards my fingertips.
It reverberates back, again
And again, swelling in my chest
Until I feel I could burst from the abundance
Of nothingness.
How horrible this could be!
Such quiet, inward rage...
The mind consumes itself
And turns to feverish delirium,
Enshrouding me in a blanket
Of bitter, tacky sweat.
In this empty, blazoned state,
I swallow worlds of men
Like syrups from a bottle.
O, the ravenous binge!
I devour it all to a hush.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses
sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling.
your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for
visions. mine
were nowhere
to be seen.
we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich
art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble.
we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it
over the gremlins of our isolation.
we had not been formally introduced and everything
was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes
sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether.
we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions
without Love.
then i asked you out. and changed the world.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem. Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water. I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it. That makes it worse. So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news. Here it is:
I Like Facebook
I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.
I like looking at the pictures,
Friends I’d never meet another way.
I like friendly messages,
Passages of verse I’d never read
If not for Facebook’s lead.
I like Likes and Comments kind,
Find in comments rich expressions.
Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions.
I’m inspired when tired, fired up.
Even when I’ve written ‘crap’
No one’s there to trap me.
Some reviewer always sees my views,
Understands.
Someone always sends
Me praise; ends with a Like.
I’ve never had a spikey word;
Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.
Commonality forever somewhere, there
Where someone wants to start a group.
Always somebody to whoop de whoop:
Somewhere folk who populate;
A troupe with common passions.
Then there are the monthly Happys:
Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…
Never had one word rescinded.
Reminded gently daily:
Classmates, playmates
I’d forgotten, dovetailed,
Blazoned on the psyche;
Friends and places,
And of course, the faces -
It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,
A source of history.
As for weaknesses I’ve read about –
Never think to route them out,
Going ‘bout my business,
Focused on creativeness,
The lofty and the small.
I like Facebook.
Happy Facebook to you all!
I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
I.
Brooded over by fate
nestled high up on the hills
by the mists, our love,
but now floating away
in a reed basket
on raging flood waters:
a home seeks a roost
II.
When it rains,
the whole world goes silent.
All the din and the dust,
lost in the downpour.
And voices long submerged
come alive in the heart.
III.
I seek a baptism of the soul.
Is'nt it of the scripture
that we are made in his image?
So, is birth, his lot too,
and age, and
the long wait to death?
The body's been bathed
many times over.
Yet this scar of unbelief
remains unscathed.
IV.
Thunderstorm.
Candle light.
Slanted shadows.
Across the table,
blazoned red.
V.
Yes, there is still
'you' and 'I'.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
In days like these I see new doors open
Blind in route with many paths to travel
Wearied are my feet from walking over
Stone and glass; blood drips upon the gravel
Hurried gestures signal through horizons
Is it too late to find myself in shade?
This endless drifter is forever blazoned
To walk a selfish lonely fool’s parade.
The rain waters deepen; arid desert
Become blue sea, as beauty springs from green.
New doors open, be patient, don’t divert.
The Sun defeats the Moon each new morning.
I will champion mountains, wild season’s song.
In search of a place where I will belong
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 5:16 AM UTC
She blazoned in profusion
sour braids stained
by years of catastrophe
macabre salutations evolve
become libidinous farewells
upon the handsome black boughs
lie wicked forewarnings
sheathed within
pseudo-identification
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Halt, take in the flower-fyrd whose faces gaze above.
For God doth formed these instruments,
His glory from below, a friendly fere of His free-love.
Colours abound and smells ablaze, coddled carefully by sovereign grace,
Created in over-many shades, creation requests contemplation,
God receive praise from our glory-bound place.
Flee to the forest and walk in wonder
Dew-flavored florae that arise from thunder.
God of Glory, we alms-guests seek,
Only to find in mast-lands so meek.
Blest by back-woods, expansive, brave, and blazoned above
Humble inscription inciting and inflaming the in-carnation of love.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
I awaited naked on the bed
Waiting for the fireworks whilst
Fragrant jasmine clung to the air
My heartbeat hastened
Waiting for you to come
Chastened by my wanton ness
All the while awaiting you
Waiting to be cradled.
Elated by the night's promise
I sparkle in anticipation
Overstimulated I fantasise
Fireworks bang, clash and crash outside
Untranslated lust leave me and
The fireworks illustrated.
You, are finally here
My need to be consummated takes hold
You dominate my fire worked state of mind and nakedness
I shake and convulse like a sated rocket
Assassinated on the bed, we culminate
Wasted, elated
Blazoned lovers out animate
The fireworks.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
( hebrew translation) English version below this....
טארן שלנו לנבול להיות מודגש, פגם אף , ולא לטמא.
ידו של אלוהים ' החזיקה את המברשת; O ' זירת מהפנט.
כשאנחנו ועשינו להבחין במרחק אחד אחרת עם הגיבורה בהתגלמותה שלנו,
לנבול צנוע אנו להיות, הפשט הרחק גאווה ארצית.
שוב אני אגיד לך, שנאה שאף יכול להיכנס כאן,
נצטרך לעמוד באוויר פירת גביש ; נולד מחדש בנצח,
הצנצנת של האסט של עדן מאוחסן הדמעה של שלנו.
זן מלכת השער הצרה,אני אעמוד ליד השערים,
בלבוש המלאכי לנבול מחכה לך;
אני אהיה זוהר , שלא אאחר .
( English version )
Ourn tarn shalt be blazoned, none blemish, nor defiling.
God's hand' held the brush; O' the scene mesmerizing.
when we shalt descry one another with our eyne,
humble wilt we be, stripped away from earthly pride.
Once again I'll tell thee, none hate can enter here,
we'll stand aloft the crystal firth; reborn in eternity,
Heaven's jar's hast stored our tear's.
Enter in the narrow gate queen,
I'll stand beside the gates,
Angelic garb wilt await thee;
I will be glowing, do not be late.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
The swaying willow I tremble against wares at my frail touch, as a feasting night engulfs my every heaving breath. Death’s narcotics stain my drying lips, his battery acid blood lurches deep within. Eyes so drunk and wasted in my delirium, I arch in silent utterance with soaked face, beaten to ruin and bathed in sweat. So profuse are death’s nails, as his jagged claws vice my throat shut and proceeds to punish. The willows motherly skin catches a broken man. My fading face sludged in midnight and secret poison, collapses to the tree’s aid.
A precious night flickers in earnest, as my legs so shredded to numbness lie idle to my aching lungs. The goddess tree cradling my deteriorating spine and worthless flesh hovers as a spirit dissipating within the mist of a blanketing sky blazoned in studded stars. Her curling hands inch soft and delicately across my broken chest. Each loving finger tip sliding across every cracked rib and shattered muscle, lulls the pain to rest soaked with her motherly essence, as milky dreams flood and cloak the skin.
My dying lips parched of life, and stolen with deaths hands struggle to speak with agony accompanying every cloudy plea. Murky eyes glazed in silicone and oil stare onward into a dazzling frenzy of florescent stars and godly galaxies, dancing for one person. And only one person, the worthless wretch dying beneath a motherly willow. The empty soul slumbering within this rusted machine and in the rush of this chaos, of this leather fitted pain. My soul will
rest in the elegance of Mother Nature’s name.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:03 AM UTC
I'll bend you a rainbow
breathe life into the moon
caress the shallow cheek of infant imps
sprites and ginger snap blossoms
all for the blessing of your creased grin
the blazoned beauty unparalleled
your figure pined for by the seas and sun
eyes danced in copper silk
I rustle hollowed amongst the shades
kindled on the embers of your smile
paling bleach I rest among the pavement
closest to the soil
all is right in a world cuddled to your elegance
all is right when the sun rises to kiss you awake
you are the glint of sunshine in this world
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 5:07 AM UTC
Shakespeare, gazing into a waning sky,
said that her eyes were nothing like the sun.
Collins, picking fruit from trees, said that she
is not the purple wind in the orchard.
To follow this long trend of un-blazoned
poetry, I want to share with the world
that you are not the Charlie Parker jazz
jumping from the mouth of a black Phillips
radio, nor are you the paper that I
am writing this first draft on, nor
the morning coordinate geometry
that puzzled me today (or maybe you
are). Even more so, you are not the moon-
light staining trees, the stack of 18th
century British literature in the study,
your grandmother’s painting in the dining
room. Nonetheless, you are you: masterful,
opinionated, understanding; a
beloved whose beauty is better left
unmentioned in some new age poetry.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
*To this old, defeated apple
Skin blazoned in rosy tunic
Slippery as fate discarded, fate in a bubble
How you've crossed my sight like a cynic
You rest cold and unamused
In my warm, subversive hands
It's as if your insides have set themselves loose
Unarmed in their pure dwindling strands
Fat worms whiffed spotless fields of honey-gold
Floundering shallow water fishes in unconscious fathoms
Seared the sweet flesh with spawns in manifold
You stand still in spite of downtrodden autumns
I took you in my mouth, your rot conspicuous
As if you whimper upon my numb tongue
That you won't last an age longer in this limping malice
Where your seed grows only to get wrung*
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
I was there when you fell from heaven
the fire in the sky burns,
blazoned by the jade
tint of satan's Greek fire
the air was poisoned with the unholiness of you
it's easy to blame coincidence
if I am broken, perhaps I cannot fix you
my eyes are replaced with slabs of molten rock and the soulfire gaze
sears your shadow from your towering image
you are yourself and reflection
an end and a beginning
the steps toward dawn
and it's sunbleached essence
baptizes and breathes
death into life
but dusk comes not long after
closer than sin
thicker than bad blood
there's no light at the end of the tunnel
just the passing glimmer of your
one last wish
there's no light at the end of the tunnel
i won't dance with the devil
there will be no
one last kiss
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
I believe in love
I've known it
The pounding heart
the butterflies
the lack for breath
the heavy sighs
being alone in a crowded room
falling into her eyes
and drowning forever
Every sensation sacred
to touch her
to taste her
The sound of her breathing
Her voice
Her passion
her smell
The unique mysterious
smell of her body
Her ***
Oh the sight of her!
Breath taking beauty
awesome splendor
Her image imprinted
branded blazoned on the canvass
of my soul
with colors and hues impossible
to recreate or simulate
outside the eyes of my mind
Tragically though
the depth and intensity
of a love that is found
is exponentially
dwarfed by the grief
of a love that is lost
the weeping mourning insanity
of a broken heart
I knew love
I knew heart break
I lost myself
in my yearning for death
I became
a cowardly drunken dog
skulking in the streets
drinking from the gutter
running from everyone
and everything
Licking my infected wounds
choking on the poison discharge
of bitterness and remorse
I know love
Whether by laughter and joy
or with tears of sorrow
Terrible wicked sweet
Mother of songs!
I would gladly endure
one year of your hell
for one hour of your heaven
I lay my torch
at the tomb of our love
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
The absolution of your presence
Creates a suspended reality in my sleeping.
And perhaps this magic control over my brain
Is the tool that kept me in your life so long.
In dreams, where only my thoughts could hope for escape,
You slither into every space.
Creating a permanent cycle of absolve, doubt, regret.
You run me on a hamster wheel and watch for comedic relief.
While I struggle with our purpose
You already know the end of this saga,
But you'd rather watch me grapple under the weight of the unknown.
Tonight when I dream, I hope for free-falling and blazoned houses, while I watch through lenses as the victim.
I'd much rather fall to the demise of natural causes than of your own
Again.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
How pleasant to know Mr. Kiko
Whose nose is remarkably big—
Whose soul blazoned with a poetry freckle—
Whose black hair resembles a wig—
He who cometh from Uganda—
He who most of his poetry all to his lass—
Though some say, "such, such propaganda"—
But to Him as pure as green of grass.
How pleasant to know Mr. Kiko
Who sleepeth late in the dead of night
Gazing about ancient star's glow
That ever beam long and bright—
Bright—but not as his lass's limpid eyes
Bestowed never upon seraphim above—
Though some say—"such, such lies
Of a swain drownded in a pool of lurve."
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeirah, Dubai. 13th.Feb.2018.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC