"dazzeling" poems
Hail to the King
All mighty and strong
Hail to the Queen
Who sings a great song.
King asks for a song
The Queen doesn't bare
Every night to bed
To create a new heir.
Weeks speed by
And still nothing yet
The King is now nervous
The Queen's tears are wept.
The Queen's clothes are shed
As she lay with her King
They tumble all night
As fertility sings.
Nine months later
A baby is born
But not the right gender
So the baby is mourned.
The Queen has failed
Her dazzeling King
And now it's the blade
On her neck that must sing.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 8:53 PM UTC
She had that "impress me" vibe over her.
If only she could be impressed by anything I knew about.
If only she cared of my dazzeling good looks.
And my smooth lines.
If only I could make her head turn.
But she never looked.
I could never say anything
That stirred her heart.
She was that conquest we all wanted
But could never have
So we never admitted to really wanting her.
she's not that easy, she's too smart
And boy was she ever smart.
Nothing I could do, surprised her.
She was one step ahead.
So I took her down, like a good sportsman
Or hunter who takes down a gazelle.
But she never quivered.
She never admitted that anything I had done
Really impacted her.
She smiled like statues smile
She looked right through us
Like an x-ray scanner
And we felt small
Insignificant.
And we took distance
She was the only thing
I could never figure out completely.
She was the hero
Who never showed her face
And Villain who never told anyone
She had a beautiful heart aside a beautiful face.
The illusion of a woman was embodied within her.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC
A stream and pool, a gentle rain,
The smell of soaking wooded dirt
The feel of slowly cooling air in misty Summer as the gravel crunches beneath the weight of all the hopes and dreams of right now.
A distant call to wonder, a closer call to wander and a hill that hides a long walk back before the night claims victory
Mossy ponds, trails crossing trails and barbed wire blockades that shield from neighborly attack
The low call of bullfrogs and the bickering of birds, all dazzeling and swirling into a great sky of lightly dripping treetops
This beautful force of green and brown and rust and blue and quiet stillness and nature's obedience is everything that will ever matter as far as anyone can tell.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:46 PM UTC