"juvenal" poems - Hello Poetry

He lives in a time of plague. The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love. The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him. He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication. He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice. Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated. Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year. Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day. They’ve only ever spent time together twice. I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies. I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock. He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure. In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity. This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain. But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils. Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.

0

Jul 1, 2013

Jul 1, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC

james-amick

Dr. Juvenal Urbino's Self-Diagnosis of Chronic Fidelity

He lives in a time of plague. The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love. The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him. He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication. He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice. Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated. Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year. Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day. They’ve only ever spent time together twice. I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies. I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock. He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure. In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity. This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain. But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils. Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.

16

The god from the past came stalking, Came clambering over the hill, He’d woken first thing in the morning With a hangover, fit to chill, Those Roman debauches with grapes and wine, The reds and the whites of the Tuscan kind, The fruit of an overburdened vine, Were sapping his energy still. He’d rubbed at his eyes in the dawning, And wondered where everyone went, For nothing remained of the Roman baths Not even a soldier’s tent, And where was the maiden he’d last embraced The sweet Lucina, so fair of face, Whose long held virtue was laid to waste When the force of his love was spent. Invidia’s green and brooding eyes Had watched as he laid her down, Had mixed her potions to match his lies As they struggled, there on the ground. She thought, ‘No god should be so remiss As to offer a rival a tainted kiss, From now, I’ll act as his Nemesis, He’ll sleep while the world turns round. She poured him a draught of her potion then The last of his thirst to slake, Though Empires rose and fell again She vowed that he’d never wake. The buildings crumbled and turned to dust As the god dreamt long of his love, and lust, While Nemesis thought her scheme was just And the field turned into a lake. The ages tired and the gods retired To their mansions, high on the mount, But he continued to sleep and dream More years than he could count, The god slept through in a dream sublime While generations were buried in lime, Two thousand years was a blink in time For the gods in their banishment. He woke on a chilly Autumn day And found himself in a lake, Shivered once, and then strode away For his heart had begun to ache, He walked down into a valley plain Green and fresh in the Autumn rain, When out of a tunnel streamed a train With a scream, and the squeal of brakes. ‘By Juvenal!’ cried the god in shock As the carriages streamed on by, Then up above, like a giant gnat A vehicle flew in the sky. ‘The world has changed since I fell asleep The gods have fled to the mountain keep, And men have conjured a giant leap, The world has passed us by!’ He ran headlong through the tunnel Hoping to find Lucina again, And that was the great explosion that Nobody could explain. The diesel engine was rendered flat With carriages piled on top of that, While Nemesis on the mountain sat Her tears flowing like rain! David Lewis Paget

0

Jul 7, 2013

Jul 7, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC

david-lewis-paget

Nemesis

The god from the past came stalking, Came clambering over the hill, He’d woken first thing in the morning With a hangover, fit to chill, Those Roman debauches with grapes and wine, The reds and the whites of the Tuscan kind, The fruit of an overburdened vine, Were sapping his energy still. He’d rubbed at his eyes in the dawning, And wondered where everyone went, For nothing remained of the Roman baths Not even a soldier’s tent, And where was the maiden he’d last embraced The sweet Lucina, so fair of face, Whose long held virtue was laid to waste When the force of his love was spent. Invidia’s green and brooding eyes Had watched as he laid her down, Had mixed her potions to match his lies As they struggled, there on the ground. She thought, ‘No god should be so remiss As to offer a rival a tainted kiss, From now, I’ll act as his Nemesis, He’ll sleep while the world turns round. She poured him a draught of her potion then The last of his thirst to slake, Though Empires rose and fell again She vowed that he’d never wake. The buildings crumbled and turned to dust As the god dreamt long of his love, and lust, While Nemesis thought her scheme was just And the field turned into a lake. The ages tired and the gods retired To their mansions, high on the mount, But he continued to sleep and dream More years than he could count, The god slept through in a dream sublime While generations were buried in lime, Two thousand years was a blink in time For the gods in their banishment. He woke on a chilly Autumn day And found himself in a lake, Shivered once, and then strode away For his heart had begun to ache, He walked down into a valley plain Green and fresh in the Autumn rain, When out of a tunnel streamed a train With a scream, and the squeal of brakes. ‘By Juvenal!’ cried the god in shock As the carriages streamed on by, Then up above, like a giant gnat A vehicle flew in the sky. ‘The world has changed since I fell asleep The gods have fled to the mountain keep, And men have conjured a giant leap, The world has passed us by!’ He ran headlong through the tunnel Hoping to find Lucina again, And that was the great explosion that Nobody could explain. The diesel engine was rendered flat With carriages piled on top of that, While Nemesis on the mountain sat Her tears flowing like rain! David Lewis Paget

65

How can you be so childish? How can you be so hateful? How can you be so annoying? How can you be so shameful? How can you be so embarrassing? How can you be so carefree? How can you be so Juvenal? How can you be so ignorant? How can you be so stupid? I know, You really don't know me at all, And yet you say all these's things to me, I hope one day I can forgot ever thing about, Those's that have been around me, Because I don't like the way I am now Or who I've become, I regret being a part of these's people, They'll never be on the same level as I am. Stupid.

0

May 27, 2012

May 27, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC

isabella-h

Why did it have to be you?

How can you be so childish? How can you be so hateful? How can you be so annoying? How can you be so shameful? How can you be so embarrassing? How can you be so carefree? How can you be so Juvenal? How can you be so ignorant? How can you be so stupid? I know, You really don't know me at all, And yet you say all these's things to me, I hope one day I can forgot ever thing about, Those's that have been around me, Because I don't like the way I am now Or who I've become, I regret being a part of these's people, They'll never be on the same level as I am. Stupid.

19

In Ancient Rome the Emperors ensured the populace were kept quiet, With bloodied slaves to gawp at and a stomach filling diet, Of bread and wine and spectacles before a baying crowd, Soporific panaceas channelled the roars they were allowed. But on Bulbaos’ house in Pompeii he wrote “Militat om nes” Which in our simple modern tongue in an idiom he says “I am just a lover but I know that I must fight” His spray can was a chisel and he made his mark at night. "… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses." Juvenal AD100

0

Oct 12, 2017

Oct 12, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC

TheUnseenPoet

Panem et Circenses

In Ancient Rome the Emperors ensured the populace were kept quiet, With bloodied slaves to gawp at and a stomach filling diet, Of bread and wine and spectacles before a baying crowd, Soporific panaceas channelled the roars they were allowed. But on Bulbaos’ house in Pompeii he wrote “Militat om nes” Which in our simple modern tongue in an idiom he says “I am just a lover but I know that I must fight” His spray can was a chisel and he made his mark at night. "… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses." Juvenal AD100

10

There he lays with killing claws so snug, on my warm lap I smile as he looks so cute he even left a bird by my feet Oh Bas it's a mucking sparrow you little ******* with eyes so narrow I know you know what I am saying but goodness sake it's a sparrow I don't think I should pat you you murderous little brat does that poor bird warrant a cat slap And you purr so Juvenal and in contentment you cutely snug saying Here you are daddy I hope you will eat a Sparrow for Monday to bury and keep By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

0

Aug 9, 2013

Aug 9, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

So Juvenal

There he lays with killing claws so snug, on my warm lap I smile as he looks so cute he even left a bird by my feet Oh Bas it's a mucking sparrow you little ******* with eyes so narrow I know you know what I am saying but goodness sake it's a sparrow I don't think I should pat you you murderous little brat does that poor bird warrant a cat slap And you purr so Juvenal and in contentment you cutely snug saying Here you are daddy I hope you will eat a Sparrow for Monday to bury and keep By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

23

I watch your jaw drop as I get my manhood out it's Thursday night and 50 years of party time to come I don't need to get naked this year, but I will for I bare my *** for the good of all my soul In words I laze around sometimes say something profound but to my sin my mouth and mind is so Juvenal and in the sin bin I am sure I don't mean to but protection and sub diversion I have had the misgovernment to comply and I don't feel cool about that So while I have a chance before they ***** me again I tell poets out there be your heart and be your sin By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

0

Dec 12, 2013

Dec 12, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

Be Your Sin

I watch your jaw drop as I get my manhood out it's Thursday night and 50 years of party time to come I don't need to get naked this year, but I will for I bare my *** for the good of all my soul In words I laze around sometimes say something profound but to my sin my mouth and mind is so Juvenal and in the sin bin I am sure I don't mean to but protection and sub diversion I have had the misgovernment to comply and I don't feel cool about that So while I have a chance before they ***** me again I tell poets out there be your heart and be your sin By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

19