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Denis Barter Mar 2018
When a duelling dual, duel,
and Duello rules hold sway,
should the dual of duellers duelling,
wear doublets to duel that day?

With Duello rules in place,
when duelling triplets duel
are they thought a terzetto trio,
if they follow the Duello rule?

When a quarrelling quartet duel,
do quadrille  rules hold sway?
or should they duel as dual duals,
with dual Duello rules in play?

Duels are only for experts,
there’s a talented skill required..
As only the winner survives,
all losers are deemed expired!

As duelling, passions run fiercely    ,
and a duel oft ends in death,
no matter that Duello rules apply,
a loser always draws his  last breath!

Rhymer. March 1st, 2018.
(On a roll! - Have fun!)
ryn Nov 2015
.
•my
arms point
to the sky•
a gesture
                           frozen in                 eter-
                                 nity•un-                fazed as
                                   the clouds                whisper a
        lie•                 rumours of                 rain that
  never               came quickly•            prickles
protrude             menacingly            •threaten-
ing all who          would stray         too close•      
baseless            gossip that   masquerade    
as pleasant-   ry•to deviate me from      
the path i chose•still i stand            
here...duelling the sun          
•in a land scorched            
barren•search-  
ing for hope
when there's 
really none•
here i stand...
lonely and
drought
stricken•
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
­••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
.
Concrete Poem 11 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
annh Apr 2019
O, feckless dart of immeasurable delight!
Wouldst thou direct elsewhere your flight,
And refute my rival’s gentleman claim,
That he be immune to Cupid’s aim.

His smug sobriety remains intact,
His pages blithe and matter-of-fact,
Where my poor pen is inked with woe,
And ****** to hell by quiver and bow.

O, mischievous boy do grant my request!
Whether modest maid or comely *****,
His downfall ensured by one bold kiss,
Shoot low, shoot high, but do not miss.
‘“Oh, did you expect me to play fair?” Cupid laughed. “I am the god of love. I am never fair.”’
- Rick Riordan, The House of Hades
Johnny Zhivago Jun 2013
Alarm at 9:30, wake up at 8:30, stretch in bed, go downstairs to kitchen, make omelette, give a quater to a freind, eat the rest, alarm goes off, cycle in to uni, shuffle the word order of an essay, print it, muck around, go to the bar, glance at a man giggling to himself, smoke a dovetail, go back in, slice an orange, eat it then, go through, the print out, crossing ****, out, Daniel walks up, hey hows it going, fast talking scurry walking you know what i mean man, he starts up, ive heard this one before... i havent drunk for 3 years, now i just smoke ****, cos i always smoke it,  got a girlfriend? I had a girlfriend, she was my best friend, then she went crazy though, made me insany, i said to her listen:
im thirty its simple you with me or no?
You stay or you go? Is that simple or no?
This was a while ago, she said i dunno, i felt mad as mud, and i came to the bar, just human beings, and there was my girl, with a korean! I smiled in surprise, he switched up the convo, you had a girl, well did you like her?
I stopped him right there, im going for a ****, dont mean to diss,
ok he said bye,
and walked through the door,
of him we'll say no more.
I got to the ******, a sense of achievement, sense of a glorified victory for me, i fumbled my fly, which was hooked with a paperclip, which was bent round the button, to stop from fly diving, and as this was happening my eyesight went whitey i tingled my fingers, i staggered aboutey, my foots were a-wobbling inside of my shoe, my knees were a-jiving to knee-jiggler tune, i flopped on my bag on the back of my back, twitched and i break-danced until my foot tore loose, and suddenly a boot, an invisible boot, and invisible foot, and invisible man, kicked me my jaw, and back snapped my neck, left me there sprawled. cripped by pain, blinded by white, starved of control, but over at last, i hobbled back out, morosely sat down, high brows of eyes, did you goosey gander, oh my Amanda, he looked like a mortal
when he went in
but then he came out
limping with sin
that boy was me, i met with a girl, and cycled back home, certain my tendons, were torn off the bone, i told her i fainted in the toilet and fought with an invisible man, she said can you be normal for once and tell me wagwan, why were you painting the toilet, and who was the man, i told her again that i fainted not painted, and she looked confused. i lost my essay, and im wearing glasses and your saying nothing, except nonsense and nothing, i told her id noticed her glasses but had seen no essay, as she let me go she kissed me but i asked for a hug, a hugs more important if youre stuck in the mud, i went to my house and told all my flatfriends the truth, why my foot hurts and my disturbance of duelling that man, they acted surprised and then went to bed, i made i some tea, and then spent the rest of the night smoking down my confusion.
Healing gently but still some weak patches


it rained then shone then hailed then snowed
and she'd forgot her coat
and it poured on her throat
later passed the day
and we cycled back northways
carlights lamps and moon hit your face
smiling with your long as a boot-face
hail-bones sparkly white as toothpaste
england is a sock and we live in a bootlace

her 'guy' lived with her
so she came round early arva-,
i accidentally injected her
with a deadly kind of larvae.
she went to a farmer-cist
to get an antidote,
a little white little pea that
went floating down her throat.
merrily merrily merrily merrily,
right under the belly
it knocked the nest out from the tree
and stamp the eggs to jelly

mama pigeon was away
magpie made jelly-egg
stampy stampy crush crush
heavy evil mag-leg
Davina E Solomon Jun 2021
In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.

Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor

as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
  
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring

hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea,  boils an amnion  
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships

of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs

labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away

to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such

alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely

neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of  limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,

an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
This poem was written in a way to thread together themes of Roman myths, the moon of Neptune and NASA's proposed Trident mission to Triton, the Jonestown/Lebanon County Volcanic field and a levantine salad. It is specifically based on the Geology of the volcanic field ara located in Southeastern Pennsylvania. Do read the synthesis of it all at davinasolomon.org/2021/06/21/a-levantine-myth/
kirk Feb 2019
Different words we will seek out, some are new and strange
The Enterprise has left dry dock, she's the only ship in range
We'll explore the distant galaxies, find other new life forms
There has been stars and nebulas, and hostile ion storms

The star ship Exeter has been found, orbiting Omega Four
Only uniforms remain, and the crew they are no more
They have suffered a disease, No one is left on board
We must beam down the landing party, lives we can't afford

Captain Ron Tracy has gone rouge, violating the Prime directive
While in pursuit of long life, this was his main objective
Crystal remains of the Exeter's crew, was it the planets evolution
The Omega Glory can be solved, with the American Constitution

If your not of the body, then brainwashing could turn sour
Mr Sulu is in paradise, just beware of the red hour
Hooded lawgivers are out there, for the bidding of Landru
Waiting for The Return Of The Archons, another Starfleet crew

Stella would chastise Harry Mudd, but he didn't get annoyed
Finally having the last word, with his special wife android
The arrogance of Harcourt Fenton Mudd, with a touch of eccentricity
Many androids created in I Mudd, a planet of multiplicity

Is Professor John Gill guilty, of a prime directive violation
Advanced technology has been used, to create a **** nation
The Planet Ekos is contaminated, evolutions set off course
Zeon pigs are off the street, to evade Patterns Of Force

Trelane wanted fun and games, It was time to make a stance
An ancient duelling pistol, may be Captain Kirk's one chance
Challenging The Squire Of Gothos, who is the sharpest shooter
War games against four federation ships, with The Ultimate Computer

The Mark Of Gideon was Kirk's blood, and Odona was infected
Kirok experienced The Paradise Syndrome, before the asteroid was deflected
In the body of Mr Spock, Henoch didn't have no sorrow
Will the essence of the captains mind, Return To Tomorrow

Plato's Stepchildren used telekinetic abilities, to force an interracial kiss
Zefram Cochrane's in love with The Companion, in Metamorphosis
We are stranded on a planet, something's threatening our lives
Body cells are being disrupted, so protect That Which Survives

A Requiem for Methuselah, Flint is part of ancient history
Miri is a young woman, the Grup's disease is now our mystery
Klingons in Errand Of Mercy, tried to take Organian's turf
A warhead in the past was detonated, in Assignment Earth

The Lights Of Zetar invaded the body, of Lieutenant Mira Romaine
Bread and Circuses gladiator sacrifices, a fight to the death again
Lost in the past will we get back, from All Our Yesterday's
Lazarus is positive and negative, The Alternative Factor's split two ways

Was the creature made of rock, we didn't know for certain
A fight with history's greatest foes, behind The Savage Curtain
Janice Lester captured Capitan Kirk, he could not elude her
She took over his body and ship, in Turnabout Intruder

An impostor is on board the ship, Kirk has been separated
Men have good and evil sides, but now there segregated
Does passive need aggressiveness, a malfunction caused their sever
Transporters need to be repaired, to splice Kirk back together

These are the voyages of the crew, of the enterprise
Many officers have died, and we've said our last goodbyes
Missions placed in the ships logs, along with crew memoirs
Our adventurers may continue, with our trek to unknown stars. . .
Back by popular demand is this the third Star Trek poem, featuring the episodes :

Season 1:

Miri
The Squire Of Gothos
Return Of The Archons
Errand Of Mercy
The Alterative factor

Season 2:

I Mudd
Metamorphosis
Return To Tomorrow
Patterns Of Force
The Omega Glory
The Ultimate Computer
Bread And Circuses
Assigment Earth

Season 3:

The Pardise Syndrome
Plato's Stepchildren
The Mark Of Gideon
That Which Survives
The Lights Of Zetar
Requiem For Methuselah
The Savage Curtain
All Our Yesterdays
Turnabout Intruder

These 22 episodes represent the last episodes that appeared in The Original Live Action Star Trek series. With my previous 2 poems based on this subject, this completes a trilogy of poems which cover the whole of Star Trek The Original Series originally aired from September 1966 through June 1969
Other adventurers and missions do feature Captain James T Kirk, First Officer Spock, Doctor McCoy and the crew of the Original Star ship Enterprise some known some not so well known all of which are a continuation of the ones outlined in my poems.
I am not sure these will materialise in any form in the future but other dimensions may indeed reveal further adventures. . .
Olivia Kent May 2015
Fighting death daily.
My head is duelling with my pen.
I'm not suicidal.
But given the option.
Of meds or pen.
My pen will outright win.
(C) LIVVI MMCV
n White Nov 2014
desperate word duelling
a fight without aggression
desperation pervades
antagonism delayed

so beaten
beaten down
so beaten
only frown

ferocity tucked away
yet the beastly come to play
a beating reckoned
the pain provisioned

so beaten
beaten down
so beaten
beaten
beaten down
topaz oreilly Jan 2013
The High Street at first was marked
with Charity Shops forever in lieu
came the Pound Shops.
Old Brands stayed with us
but in turn the internet compounded the decline
perhaps cyber shopping is akin to playing pong,
the familiars, like a fire-storm evaporated,
music, bookshops, photography
whose to know the next stage?
but I bet the inner city will be hamlets
of chiefdoms,
Gertrude the concrete cow
adorned with Golden paint
and urban Cowboys
duelling in Midnight Charades
SG Holter Oct 2014
Unearthed,
Broken hearts by the millions
Unnerved,
By the sounds of so many tears
Understood,
Everyone has felt this way
Lost loves,
Dying in our minds for millions of years

Earthed,
Secrets within revelations.
The numbers of stars, yet as
Concealed as them all; how
Something as bright as light can be
Hidden behind the undarkness of
Day.
All human tears are not the results
Of crying.
All human tears are the same one. One
Water.
Life. Pain. Laughter.
Pain. Life.
Earth cares as little as soil.
  

And yet the Earth is filled with laughter
Tears
Pain and life.
It knowing not the difference is beyond the point
Caring,
That the light we can all bring
To shine shadows upon this unforgiving ground
Then the sound of the last tear drop
Shall bring the endless cycle to a stop.

Spirals cycling endlessly
In optionable directions.
Dancing or
Duelling. Loving or
Lying. Living or dying
Trying, crying.
Waste not heart's blood on
Grounds. All it takes is
Enough breath to clear
The skies.
It's only life, mother.
Weep not for my death;
Laugh that I lived.
A thousand hates, yet the
One love I shall recall.
I name no flying
To fall*.
When I smile, my tears
Quench my thirst.
Endless cycle.
We can all choose to
Spiral
Upwards.
Great to work with you, TGWLY. Nice work! Thank you.
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
A  brisk  gale  wind
     blows  thru  my
clanking  gears-
thunder  shears-
and  my  riven ­ ears
then  hear  nothing:
but  thru  clairaudience
I  will  ever  be ­ a
master  of  everything
that   ravishes  the
world  beneath  your
feet.

The  pompous  skies
dri­nk  up  the  seas,
to  drop  thus  upon
my  eyes  in  beads;
and ­ as  I  pen  my
muse's  advice,  the
ink  disappears  from
the  s­heets;  and  watcher
dieties-in  the  third  choir
of  the  celes­tial  hierarchy-
now  have  useless  wings.

Oh,  mold  my  verna­l
features  into  a  candle
effigy— watch  them  gleam—
then  gro­w  so  low  by  high
degrees; and  the  wax  melting  by
the  heat  of  flame  -to  once  again­
downturn  my  merry  cheeks.  So  if
you  please,  masquerade  a­s  a  blessed
princess  -before   I  am  consumed  completely-
and  I  will  play  both  parts  o­f  the  duelling
princes.  One  a  man, the other  a  machine.

Go,  rendezvous  with  my doyenne madness!

Indeed  the  tryst  could  cause  my  discarnate
ghost­  to  scarper.  I  will  wrap  a  cloak  around
my Joy  and  Sadn­ess   
—pleased that I  might hide  my  spare  character; or  at  least  proclaim  thee
dressed  a  bit  sharper.
StakesV Mar 2019
with the stretch of his arms
he created the world
breathed life into it, a melody produced
no songs existed before
he walked, danced across the land and seas
and caressed the skies
they called him King
and prayed to him through and through
sorrow and joys, dreams and storms
a lover lost, memories gained

with the nod of his head
he flew above them
tore the skies apart, fingers pointed at
the sun, daring, duelling
smiting its rays of boastful light
there can only be one sun, he said
there can only be one him, he asserted
there can only be One, he cried
he fought like a champion, the winner
who rises while falling

with the raise of his fist
he shouted a name
no one knew whose it was, no one
dared to seek the truth
"King, oh King, we call thy name"
"I am here, I call your name"
there went the Light, a heat
permeating, invading, but like a whisper
cared and loved, silenced
the troubles in their hearts

a heart of gold
he revealed his name
a name so sweet
a name so strong
his name was Yuzuru
for Yuzuru. march 23 - 24 2019.
AMEELEIGH May 2016
lets build tree houses
and blanket dens
forts to be reckoned with
no one will infiltrate our
dreams
beneath these woven armours
dusk to dawn warriors
duelling with the notion of infinity

playful glances
and
everything i never said

my body already knows
way before my mind can read the cues
to connect on a level such as this
is rarer than july snow
and surely just as beautiful

he holds my face
cradling softly to meet his gaze
thumb and forefinger the lightest vice
but
i know these hands could never break me

intimacy is not something to be explained so readily
or easily
it should be
bittersweet raw honesty
AMEELEIGH Apr 2016
lets build tree houses
and blanket dens
forts to be reckoned with
no one will infiltrate our
dreams
beneath these woven armours
dusk to dawn warriors
duelling with the notion of infinity

playful glances
and
everything i never said

my body already knows
way before my mind can read the cues
to connect on a level such as this
is rarer than July snow
and surely just as beautiful

he holds my face
cradling softly to meet his gaze
thumb and forefinger the lightest vice
but
i know these hands could never break me

intimacy is not something to be explained so readily
or easily
it should be
bittersweet raw honesty
Mark Apr 2018
Past week, on the night of Tiw
an uneasy candle-flame wavered
censored by hushed air kisses
casting doubt upon an ode;
scribing the blessed years of youth.

This pine scented disturbance
no doubt - an Autumnal message;
that rear weathered doors
failed in the tempered change
curiously bidding, further venture.

Patio' marbles were shrouded
creeping with expired foliage
leaves tainted old hickory
near devoid of all famed ochre,
merciless to breaths of the fall.

That sombre mulched pattering
was alike wistful wondering;
of delicate and shadowy footfalls
from condemned, exiled seraphs
strung by moonlight rays.

The flavescent master glistened,
whilst duelling a clouded force;
enclosing in vaporous march
smearing pebble trailings,
the skirmish roused nostalgia.

For eerie quivers - of familiarity
wrought from the despondency,
as if epitaphed notions of old
were recited by alto whistling,
each note rekindling a memoriam.

An exhale of soulful proportions
sent adrift an essence;
a smouldering encirclement
of exhumed - solemnly recalls
taken from seasonal chapters of yore.

Those hearted ashes of distant times
cavorted - as sterling embers
with a phantasmic replica
of an adoration long gone,
duetting on pockets of melancholy.

Then beauty settled into a sepulchre,
caressed by grieving wreath petals
saddened by silken veil,
awaiting the fateful - dust and sand;
the remnants of embodied divination.

Revived dolor swelled from within
tiding from old, emotive cicatrices
buried deep and then deeper
until from this panoramic taunt
does this churned anguish vein.

A corrosive, timely hiss from Carpo
brushed the illusions past
as once - to a maidens' mortality;
a premature cremation of dreams
lingering the bitterness of decay.

As the pining sky orb retreated
so too - this observer with mourn
stuttering farewells to the nameless
then returned to the forgiving study
to immerse again - in better times.
Tiw is old English reference to Tuesday, Carpo is a god of autumn
FunSlower May 2021
You were number five in forty-eight
But surely you’re one in a million.
Warmest eyes entice duelling incisors.
Wow! Maybe it’s one in a billion.

I should’ve been scared for my life that night,
As Cerulean fractured Vermilion.
But you were there with a hand I’d never held
And Bravery that wouldn’t be felled.
Revelling in a scent you’d never smelled;
Incense for reverence outside The Pavilion.

I’d do it all again, you know?
Melt the Snow and steal the show,
To be there with you, toe to toe,
Beyond the darkest dance at the brightest cotillion.
Deck the halls with boughs of Holly.

Have you ever found yourself dazed and confused,
a mile outside your comfort zone?
If your muse is as cool, calm & collected as mine,
It’s safe to say you’ll never feel alone.
xpzlol Dec 2018
The miniscule presence
of a belated future.
Delayed lust.
internal loathing.

Pairs fall into
clutches of envy.
Poisoned waters
they drink in competition.

An inexplicable bond
through distrust and distaste.
A warming in duelling hearts.
A chilling within two halves.

Duos raise their spears and bows
in challenge.
Fighting for dominance
Elusively uniting souls

And they spark a heavy fight.
Neck and neck
A hefty bite
All without the price to pay.
As they grovel at each others show

Of deathly affection.

Stealthily. Love punctures the wounded
Binding like the wraps of bandages.
Understated healing properties
with a hint of fatal spice.
A W Bullen Jan 20
The hearth had yet
to warm a toe, an hour
before the paling

The rain had gone

now comes the cold

profound, inactive ,cold

Assumed a duelling clarion
across the mustered aerials,,

slung, humboldt in the jangled dark,
inanimate
In the hush of these ice-bound mornings,
sound travels,
The local lesser-black backs have
a regular tear-up with a couple of herons
that kip down by the frozen willow,
On low-pressure mornings, it's all a bit windy
and lost
In the cold-high-overs it hovers
forever, cupping the lowland with voice
A P Taylor Jan 2019
Chinese friezes seen metres high
reaching as stairs toward clouds,
ebony black, bamboo tints apply,
conversation hums in the crowds.

The distant clink of fine porcelain
hurries by metal clatter of spoon,
marble witness in pale grey stain
as table cloths sweep over room.

Central chandelier orchid below
flowers hang heavy in pale lilac,
conversations soft in space row,
plants thick of shade right back.

Large formal chairs around brim
mobile phones, duelling in stress,
half will exit to the pool to swim,
others suits as go about business.
The room where the US negotiating team with North Korea had breakfast each day in the Singapore Shangri La, Garden wing
KV Srikanth Mar 2022
Bottles of Alcohol
Hidden in the house
Beds Cupboards and toilets
Empty spaces becoming crates

Full empty or half filled
Not the optimist pessimist parable
Binge drinking continuous shows
Film without ****** on the roll


State of Alcoholic Coma
After week's of drama
Acts and deeds done
Three sheets to the wind

The abode of evil
Not with the devil
John Barleycorn straight up
Wrong horse galloping downhill

Clock on the wall stopped
Without food for days
Wallets credit limit reached
Beg borrow or steal for the refill

Wake drink sleep repeat
Fight Abuse Beat repeat
Fall injure Bleed repeat
Blackout Blackout Blackout repeat

Respect Esteem sailed away
On the waves of the drinks gulped away
Empty bottles floating along
Reminding  that in society no more belong

Myraid of Mirages
Illusions fuelled hallucinations
Duelling with  brain
Telling you reality is not the same

Delusion creates the fear
Interval between clarity
Yearning for normalcy
Sequential dreams more scary
Amrita Valan Mar 2021
I started
Talking to myself
These lockdown months.

Loud and lonely.
Peremptory.

Get the work done
Don't worry about not
Having any fun,
Lucky COVID ain't killing you yet ***.

I started
Singing french songs, making French toasts, listening intently
To Scottish ballads
Irish ditties
To lose myself
In foreign shores.

Locked in.
I seek your world.
Which may never be the same.

Locking out my world is easy.
Migrant workers and homeless people locked out. Feuding and duelling
With death by
Starvation
Courtesy Corona.

They can't take it one day at a time. Time is their tyrannical despot.

Living life bite size
All at once.
Loving family from far away.
Walking home to them.
Eyes bent on the road.
Back bent with baggage.
A child perched on top.

Call me crazy.
I envy their courage.
Even as misery engulfs.

Call me crazy.
I shudder in fear.
When the world returns
To its new normal,
Will I wish to abdicate?

I have found my tribe
My valley of flowers,
Poets and artists
Online.

There are the poets of life
The live artists offline
Who spread pain thin and fine.
To outrun a virus.
Too real, and too many.

Call me crazy.
I want to make them count.
The countless nameless stars
Of pain's poetry.

(c) Amrita Valan 2021
DJ Goodwin Jun 2012
Breast stroking through silent movies of cities
soft and solemn under brine, I twirl past
balustrades of jagged coral lining the royal road
as the day leaks down as blood from wounds
not yet salved,

dreaming in tangerine veils as frozen black mouths
spit silver-lined bullets of mackerel  through
barnacled labyrinths of high-rise stone
for clinging life as

seahorses waltz ethereal through the
depth’s crushing grip, their duelling coronets
figure-eighting above trumpet snouts and platinum
scales, over gulping abysses that rip away my reverie,

so I leap up slow through salt molasses, up through
parting schools of glinting plankton and layer cakes
of placental warmth,
webbed fingers ripping
back leather curtains of
manta rays and jewelled blobs
of ocean circuitry to rise toward
                 l  i  g  h  t
         f
     a
          l
              l
         i
                n
            g      
               like milk into tea to
erupt dripping in revelation
as the world      
                       d
                          i
                           v
                            e    
     into my eye  s  *****, shrieking
amphetamine through grey folds
as sheets grip tight with well-tucked
                         hands.
copyright 2012, David J. Goodwin
Jun 25, 2012

— The End —