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Edmund Grimketel Oct 2014
Spiders in my basket
spiders in my soup
spider on my eider down
spiders loop the loop

Spiders on the ceiling
now crawling down the wall
there's a spider on my pillow
someone hear my call

Spiders changing faces
never far from ear
scrip and scrat the little feet
tell me spiders are too near

I sleep with my mouth open
Martin Narrod Mar 2015
3:8:15 - Kosher pinot noir toasts the snowflakes that the eider brings, just as the Ash bows ache; naked and starving. Hurdling through old bedroom windows, giving those reasons why pennies are wished first into window wells. Smoggy gawkers, locked into an image shaped by organic lines and gestures. The two smoker- cure their hours reconnoitering in skyrise stairwells, discussing recipes for fixing wounded hearts without the peaceful frequencies she speaks into two styrofoam cups with strings pierced through their innards. Much like the story of how two people meet within the timespan of the living.

Even the Moon Men eat space cakes to loosen their chests, from the apathetic laws that began to govern their personalized truths. Not a mug with a name on it bought after an almost very cool free-art reenactment of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Love is not a sentence I can choose not to awaken.
It's the difference between having a one night stand rather
than keeping a toothbrush at each other's places.

Even on a Saturday night, we could fasten ourselves
to one another. Even if it's only you and I, who are you to
say it's not a party.
stairs love harness ache smog organic black mandypatinkin time life recipes kosher pinotnoir wine wines naked smoke people discussions hypothetical britniwest philosophy illusion pathetic girls boys girl boy men women chicago systematicdancefight piratesofthecaribbean quotesonlove quotes quote text writing writersfromchicago chosen blessing gift god gratitude peace serenity loveletters missingyou  personalized personal journal poetry prose nonfiction creativenonfiction explicit dark disturbing evil  martinnarrod
374

I went to Heaven—
’Twas a small Town—
Lit—with a Ruby—
Lathed—with Down—

Stiller—than the fields
At the full Dew—
Beautiful—as Pictures—
No Man drew.
People—like the Moth—
Of Mechlin—frames—
Duties—of Gossamer—
And Eider—names—
Almost—contented—
I—could be—
‘**** such unique
Society—
oo put dis paintin on me walls
me gona find out eider way
me gona drive to niagra falls
to find out who ruined me walls

rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u
******


ey ***** me say to me wife
dis be yor stupid paintin,
no steve it aint (read double life)
******* dis be ugly anyways
sorry steve, shush *****,
u no i turned reggae
me name aint steve anymor
call me steve one more time
and il shove a lawnmor up ur ***,
its reggae mon not steve  


rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u
******


johny johny, "yes papa"?
did u put dis tin on me walls?
"no papa", telling alie?
"no papa", close your eyes
smack! dont put any tin
on me walls *******!
sorry papa it wasn't me
shut up, smoke a splif *******

rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u
******


hoo could ave put dis ting on me walls?
maby is me smoke me a splif
me will remember if me did it or not
but me out of rolling papers
and me left me ganga in me rig

rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u
******


me left me rig at me work
me boss dont no ow to twerk
me boss tink she no ow to twerk
no wan wants to break da news
me just a shy island boy
still confused bout de paintin

rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u
******


love reggae
love ganga
love art
love poetry
reggae love ganga trucker family
754

My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun—
In Corners—till a Day
The Owner passed—identified—
And carried Me away—

And now We roam in Sovereign Woods—
And now We hunt the Doe—
And every time I speak for Him—
The Mountains straight reply—

And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the Valley glow—
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through—

And when at Night—Our good Day done—
I guard My Master’s Head—
’Tis better than the Eider-Duck’s
Deep Pillow—to have shared—

To foe of His—I’m deadly foe—
None stir the second time—
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye—
Or an emphatic Thumb—

Though I than He—may longer live
He longer must—than I—
For I have but the power to ****,
Without—the power to die—
326

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider *****,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It’s full as Opera—
ymmiJ Mar 2019
Bundled up on the Aluetian coast
On some brisk breezy Bering Sea roost
I turn my glass to a young feathered crew
A King Eider mother counting her brood
She counted once then twice
Found her missing wobbler
Fighting under floating ice
Picked pecked and prodded
The little prince finally herded
and nested warm and nice
martin Jul 2013
This
lovely
black bird
swans up to
me, raven haired,
great ****.   I'm well
choughed. We lark about.
She said "Bury me in the sand martin"
Strange hobby I'm thinking, puffin as I dig
away. Her feet stuck out, pigeon toed. She owled
when I tickled them. The sea was too ruff to swim so
we flew a kite. A knot in the string made it a dipper
and diver. I had to duck. We swallowed a glass
of wine and under the eider down she asked
swiftly "What was that?"  "Just a
little ****" I said. She groused.
Philip Connett Apr 2021
Make my bed the mantle and crown
My women studded gems on the eider and down

I'll make rubys and jets and opals my pets
A sticker the slipper that wicker wets
ConnectHook Jun 2017
Turn the lights down / way down low
Turn up the music / hi as fi can go
All the gang’s here / everyone you know
It’s a crazy scene (hey there just look over your shoulder..)
Get the picture?  No, no, no, no …  (YES)
Walk a tightrope / your life-sign-line
Such a bright hope / right place, right time
What’s your number? / never you mind
Take a powder (but hang on a minute what’s coming round the corner?)
Have you a future? No, no, no, no …  (YES)
Well I’ve been up all night (again?) / Party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking of life’s inner meaning and my latest fling
It’s the same old story / all love and glory – It’s a pantomime
If you’re looking for love in a looking-glass world it’s pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl I wouldn’t trade you for another girl
Divine intervention – always my intention, so I take my time
I’ve been looking for something I’ve always wanted but was never mine
But now I’ve seen that something just out of reach, glowing very Holy Grail
Oh mother of pearl, lustrous lady of a sacred world
Thus even Zarathustra, another-time-loser, could believe in you
With every goddess a let down, every idol a bring down –
it gets you down…
But the search for perfection, your own predilection
goes on and on and on and on…
Canadian Club love: a place in the country – everyone’s ideal
But you are my favorita,
and a place in your heart, dear makes me feel more real.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t change you for the whole world
You’re highbrow, holy with lots of soul melancholy shimmering…
Serpentine sleekness was always my weakness; like a simple tune
But no dilettante, filigree fancy, beats the plastic you
Career girl cover, exposed and another slips right into-view
Oh looking for love in a looking glass world is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses, the boomerang misses, spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted, faced with silk softly-stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure- just give me your future, we’ll forget your past…
Oh mother of pearl, submarine lover in a shrinking world.
Oh lonely dreamer your choker provokes a picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl, so-so semi-precious in your detached world.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t trade you for another girl

© E.G. Music Ltd 1973
Wordvango inspired me to post song lyrics.
Mother of Pearl (Roxy Music 1973) is an all-time favorite song.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/music/psalm/mother-of-pearl/
Tammy Boehm Feb 2015
"Slowly, silently, now the moon..."--Walter de la Mare

If only the days slipped soft
Eider down from quiet skies
“Slowly, silently now the moon”
Crests and ebbs in the star swept horizon
Mercury moments I consider the sinister things
The rush of blood banging at the back of my throat
The cadence of daybreak
And heart break and darkness hearkens
Scurrilous thoughts scatter faster
Roaches at the flip of a switch
Writhe in the light
Seek solace in shadows
Rats scrabble for higher ground in the downpour
Drown me now but I’ll never be clean
I carry the disease of this civilized beast
Scorpions under my tongue
And splinters in my skin
The higher rungs are toxic
And the air thick with afterburn
The antiphon of the apathetic
Chirrs me from daydream to entropy
Peace is hospice for poets and fools
Grit under my nails
And ***** in my mouth
Forever falling forward
The warp and weft stretched
Taut expectation
Of the cut that never comes
Just let me fall
Feather light and quiet
Let the gravity relentless
Have her way
TLBoehm
040113
Elizabeth Mayo Mar 2013
more than anything, I want
to sit by your feet again;
I want to hear the harsh and bitter birds
of Goethe's words flutter from your mouth again,
and the white eider-down softness
of your cotton slip brush against my skin,
burning me with the feel of you
for I think I've found the heart of me lives
with the heart of you
Gadus Sep 2014
Kevin and his ducks all in a row
death trophies on display
we don't do that, do we?

I want to be like the eider duck
between two grouse
in a house Kevin built
there was a little owl sitting in a tree

with his big wide eyes staring right at me

then he gave a hoot as to say hello

i just stood and watched him from the ground below.



he had lovely feathers as soft as eider down

very soft and silky just like a regal gown

then the owl took off high into the sky

then i gave away to wish the owl goodbye.



i headed back for home along the country track

then  thought about the owl as i was walking back

i will go again to his little tree

and my feathered friend once again will see
David R Apr 2021
red-framed moonlight
laughing sun
soft as the eider on the run
as the skin of newborn son
gentle as whispers of my lover
as the breeze of sweetest clover
is your smile to the stranger,
to your son or mountain ranger,
to your daughter, to your wife,
with loving eyes, with human life,
it wipes clean the pain and strife
it ushers in a blessed life.
Mark Bell Oct 2017
wheelhouse dark
emotionless freak
Floating in a storm
Everything is bleak.
Dancing with hell
In a bottomless pit
Wheelhouse dark
Covered in ****.
Friday morning
Never to be seen
My date with the maker
wheelhouse unclean.
Nice clean shirt
Pants and a belt
Everything bleak
This is how I felt
Rubber bullets
Bouncesd around my brain
Wheelhouse broken
I'm going insane.
Dancing with a swan
On a lake so black
Even thee eider
Doesn't paper the crack.
Who am I now the wheelhouse is dark
Ask the bench in a lonely park.
Lean over too far and you'll fall
and when you fall you'll learn
not to lean over too far.

I like to lean just to tempt fate
(fate bait)

I rise up to meet on my
own two feet
the breaking of every day,
long may it remain
that way.

On Friday
which is a good day
though not usually a Good Friday
I still look for Easter eggs, but
make do with the fried variety.

Shifting into drift mode
I ramble on.
sleep beckons and I reckon
rightly so,
it's time to say goodnight,

the mind still ticks over under
the eiderdown which is neither eider
nor down
but it's okay
I'm easily fooled.
Hope is a light by the window, it glows
a lit torch of doting, it never dies
Biding its time on the wings of love's throws
its a matchstick of hope when one cries

Hope is a lantern that hangs way up high
a cresset lamp at the edge of night
Rising and soaring like an eagle in the sky
it is always present and never out of sight

Hope is a feather that floats in thin air
an eider down, for the crest fallen heart
It aims to restore with gentleness and care
it cherishes and delivers, a fresh new start.

— The End —