"innkeeper" poems
when my guilt found the spare key
my condolences became roommates
who never pay their rent.
living with the ghost of shame
changes one's routine;
toothpaste
tastes like apologies-
and isolation
smells like your cologne.
ive become an innkeeper,
a host,
for the parts of others
they insist on banishing.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
The lonely innkeeper sat by the solitary window...
Hazel eyes on the sea, she recalled her every woe.
The bright-eyed children of #201 toward her desk came.
‘Tell us a story of the sea!’ they begged the lonely dame.
Within moments, the story formed on the innkeeper’s lips,
‘On a wide dock, there once were two ships.
The first was huge and beautiful, the second, plain and pale.
Despite this, as one, the two ships set sail.
At the very beginning, the strong wind was a perfect guide,
The two ships, in symphony, sailed side by side.
Through the smooth sail, they stuck together like man and wife,
Like they were built to be eternal companions in the sea of life.
Then came tumult, and everything was a blur.
The storm took over the first ship like a puppet-master.
To a deserted land the first ship was sent,
With an adoration so bizarre, in its pursuit the second ship went.
Desolate was the land; the wind was stubborn,
Two whole days there were spent, and events took a sorry turn.
In the hull of the second ship now lay a gaping dent,
And just then, a powerful wind from the skies was sent.
The second ship, a ******* could only watch with pain,
As the silhouette of the first ship began to wane.
On the lonely land remained the helpless ship,
Now in ruins, happiness spiraled out of its grip.’
‘Did the second ship live happily ever after?’ asked the bright-eyed lad,
The lonely innkeeper retorted with a smile so sad.
A sea could be drowned in her excessively deep pain,
Perhaps it was time for the crippled innkeeper to set sail again.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
'What happens to bad poets
when they die?'
'Aye, tis a good question,'
says the sotted brute
wavin his hand
whilst spittle flyin
with most syllables
'I yam told bad poets
stew in alphabet soup
and get eaten by
old grannies for
all eternity'
'I eard that one
but seems a waste
of good soup'
'Aye, and why de grannies
get involved it's a
misog misog
a ting against
women I'll bet'
'Well then, what might
you think?'
says the innkeeper
to the quiet sod
at the end of the bar
'Eh..I should think
they'd go with the good ones
cuz I'll be ******
if I can tell the difference'
'Aye' says all 'aye'
©2012 Lyn
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
Be my innkeeper
Light up the no to my vacancy sign
When I’ve had a long day
Let it flicker like the neon
Sign at the ABC store a few blocks away
And when the next day starts turn it off again
And let in those who’ve had worse days than me
Rest their heads and let them be
Remind me of myself and who I am when
You are my only tenant
But don’t let me forget that while
Yours is the most important
I always have a room for more.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Motions and lies
Oceans and tides
Highs and lows
Waves and thrones
Photographs and movies
like the words you've said to me
Typewriters and documents
Lonesome loneliness
Paintings and art
scientists using starch
Differences and combinations
Treasures and abominations
Pinnacles and roots
Ratty old boots
Holes and patches
Irreplaceable mismatches
An old rhyme
a new game
rules and regulations
all the same
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
Joseph and Mary tried to find shelter but they were unable.
Finally, an innkeeper gave them permission to use his stable.
Jesus was born in that stable and Mary put him in a manger.
An angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him that Jesus was in danger.
An evil king was sending people to **** the Son of God.
The king who did this was none other than King Herod.
Mary and Joseph took Baby Jesus away, they had to flee.
Jesus and his family wound up living in Nazareth of Galilee.
Because Jesus was perfect, he was a man who people could trust.
Jesus and his father love us so much that Jesus died for all of us.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
idealistic,I smile to be deluded
by realism as the windmill slaps my ***
again, romantic chivalry my duty
saving damsels righting wrongs
In La Mancha in the archives my story
resides , and i have not been sleeping much,
reading causing my brain to dry , as a result
excuse my being quick to anger,
whenever I feel Dulcinea is in danger.
and, it has been many an innkeeper
who has knighted me
and many a beating I have taken
left in the gutter
as the priest decides which of my
books to burn in an effort to dull
my ardor, ferocious giants loom
disparaging my squire
calling him unintelligent
and greedy, to them I shall draw
my sword, to the death
To my squire's defense, I ride!!
Sancho will be governor, and my
Dulcinea is crying.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
Horse Story
Whatever you do a horse will not be accepted in
bar or an inn, our horse after hours of ploughing soil
was give beer to drink, this because the home made
beer the farmer had brewed wasn’t any god.
The horse drank deeply but after a rest it got truculent
and refused the harness, The farmer gave it more
beer to mollify the horse, but no this was a day when
it said no. The horse trotted to the nearest town
found an inn and asked for a beer, deep silence, drinkers
joined AA, no good for business the innkeeper called
the police and got a the horse back to the farm where it
had to sober up in a field tied to a tree, and the farmer
had to pay a fine for giving alcohol to an animal
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
Monday only I arrived at the inn
Got a room there ***** and span
I wondered at the place’s awful din
And the joy in welcoming new man!
Till then I had lived in dark gloom
Half awake in a quiet warm stream
In delirious urge to leave the catacomb
Reach the light I had all along dreamt!
Cramped in that alley in somber stupor
Passed months how I didn’t know
Only could sense freedom wasn’t far
Wouldn’t be forever in that burrow!
The kindly innkeeper fed me the best
And wouldn’t take anything for the give
Spent I two days on her breast loveliest
It hurt me when came the time to leave!
On a Wednesday found my new love
Made a nest on a space on this earth
A fairy she was love’s precious trove
She gave me warm home and a hearth!
Can’t tell how passed the days so fast
New travelers coming on our way
Our wishes were ashes hopes were dust
Were left with only faith on Friday!
Have tided on this inn waves low and high
Seeking from the clouds the north star
Live now with memories of the days gone by
Waiting for the Sunday that’s not far!
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
innkeeper drum
frost scuttle plea
zebra cottage fly
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC
death is
an innkeeper
that wait
for the tired
the sick and
the weary
to come through
that door
where the
lost souls
swims for the shore
and patiently
death shall
greet you
i'm still sure
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
N NATIVITY
A ANGELS
T TEACHINGS
I INNKEEPER
V VICTORIOUS
I INSPIRATION
T TRAVEL
Y YULE
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 2:44 PM UTC