"legionnaire" poems
The Roman Road runs straight and bare
As the pale parting-line in hair
Across the heath. And thoughtful men
Contrast its days of Now and Then,
And delve, and measure, and compare;
Visioning on the vacant air
Helmeted legionnaires, who proudly rear
The Eagle, as they pace again
The Roman Road.
But no tall brass-helmeted legionnaire
Haunts it for me. Uprises there
A mother’s form upon my ken,
Guiding my infant steps, as when
We walked that ancient thoroughfare,
The Roman Road.
2.7k
Billionaire: I were
been Corollary,
at the party,
and petition,
where populism,
there is no discussion,
and abolished
and the average,
the epicurean scenes,
beloved my testamentary,
and I partisan,
and raw balance of my profits,
and my diploma,
my university triumphs,
I am the planetary star,
skin and clothing
protozoan,
Legionnaire
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
You’re a warrior,
armed with cinder block walls.
Sister legionnaire with fingers stuttering
down my spine.
You are a helical path across my clavicle,
the sun filled A-frame in my gut.
You are the space between my head on the pillow
and my feet on the floor.
You are a well for me to pour into.
I want to drink from your hands and know you.
I want to find your face on the surface
and slip down
until I meet the siren.
I want to touch your face, nape, arms
and have license to explore you.
You are the bottom of a hot spring,
slippery stone and encompassed warmth.
I bare my neck to your teeth
and urge you to share the weighted things
you think about at night.
Breathe at my neck and shoulder, then
learn to exhale.
You are carrying too much, Kindred,
it will drag you down.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
He lay exhausted under
the brilliant stars of Heaven,
searched them with
a faraway look
in his raven eyes,
hoping he would see
his lady again.
He traced his lips
with his tired-fingers,
imagining them hers.
Relishing the thought,
he burned with fire,
remembered her tender kisses,
the beating of her fervent heart,
the fragrance of her sweet skin,
the taste of her honey-breath.
Days of brutal-fighting
had depleted the legion,
many brave warriors
would not return home.
It was a time for reflection,
a chance for silent-prayer,
to pay reverence for
being spared.
As he drifted in and out
of conciousness,
he wondered if
she were tracing
her own lips
with his fingers
in her mind,
desired him still.
Good Lord,
he missed her.
Trembling,
he feared the worse,
as tears poured,
drifted over his cheeks,
he wanted home so badly,
he could taste it in his tears.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Isn't it easy to write during these times,
And difficult to write on these times,
Without ripping off figurative comparisons.
I want to use wasteland
But I'd be the one compared,
And that won't work. That's not my intent.
Besides, Townsend and T.S. worked it.
There are the platinum choices
Like Satan, Lucifer, or Legionnaire.
But Milton has his scent all over these,
And the Bible invented them.
Those times.
These times.
Apocalypse, or any version thereof,
Would surely bring Brando to mind,
And Kurtz's heart of darkness.
There are inspiring descriptors like,
Cataclysm, devastation and destruction.
Well-represented in cinema
Since Birth of a Nation.
Now there's irony.
As much as Holocaust would be perfect to plagiarize,
I, nor anyone else, should ever attempt,
(And it would be a vain glory attempt at best)
To use this singular word
In an analogy for anything, ever again.
Ever!
Unless absolutely necessary.
Unless someone we know gets stupid.
Then more stupid.
Then stupider.
Then most stupid.
And finally,
Not with a whimper, but a bang.
I falter.
Not exactly plagiarism is it?
Shouldn't be repeated either.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
I hear the music of the night, and as the angels begin to sigh
the last ribbons of light fall loose across my path
God , vigilant illusionist of all times
as you scry the moon for me tonight, the stars
align themselves, and the Universe thrums in solvent time;
Dios, incarnate flash and glimmer of my soul,
legionnaire of all mankind, you draw me to your heaven
as if I were a mere reflection of the stars I see tonight.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 7:09 PM UTC