"leonine" poems
The lily’s withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter,—hour by hour.
Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.
2.5k
He is a man in fact , a factual man in fact
But in fact more than man, and more natural
He is a predator, sometimes ****** endeavourer
Jumping as a feather stead upon my weathered bed
Lead at the head but it's heavier
A best of a beast, in his chest at least
A lion's heart beats, and with mine at his feet
He is deadlier
Mane across his back, mainly manly, manly knack
And a pride to admire any crazy track
Mired by those paws or clawed back
Lion's share of the hair and a siren's glare
Its enough to ensnare any to come back
To lie in the den and unpack
A purr that can stir dwelling spell in gazelles
A roar that could ensure his reign is obtained on every plain
If called for
His face is made heeding, and bleeding the sun
His legs win a race never needed to be run
Already won
Prowl and it's done
If he who rides the tiger finds it difficult to dismount
Than he who rides the lion will feel him sure surmount
No doubt, for nobility is paramount
Alpha is better beyond count, couched in whim
And he reigns as King of the jungle I grew for him
King of all that's funnelled through to him
King of all that humbles me and truly sings
And so
Clearly success best rests in
Being a lioness, not left guessing lionless
A carnivorous, blitherous, tyrant's guest
In fact I am a woman, a natural woman in fact
And factually I am a woman intact
Yet in fact a woman distracted on a lion obsessed tract
Where a leonine mess is lacked
And a lion-like chests interact
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
There is no doubt about it:
You have always loved me.
A leonine love.
A love that swells in the womb and the heart
From the very first twinkle in the eye.
Hit play.
Your eyes are swampish,
Mistrustful and marinated in cheap wine,
Shot through with blood, preserved in your own saltwater.
Those alligator eyes
That watch your girls,
Watch your girls board a train and draw away
Into the rest of their lives.
Leaving you stewing in twelve years’ worth of regret.
Years ago,
I used to pinch your forearms -
Watch the skin crepe up
Between my four year old fingers.
Thin blood. Tired skin.
Silently you eat your breakfast of pills and toast at the kitchen counter.
Throw in a horrid hacking cough to remind us you’re still here.
You always write everything down.
As if to tattoo it into your memory.
If you’ve locked the door behind you, it’ll be alright.
If you’ve got half a bottle left.
If you’ve left no trace on the bathroom carpet.
If you’ve woken up in the morning.
You can feel my eyes watching you.
You spend your days watching
Daytime TV, eating salad cream sandwiches and
Hit the bottle at a safe distance from noon.
Safe enough.
Your lipsticks have gone stale,
Now it’s porous skin, sweat stains, grey hair.
I find you poring over bank statements and local newspapers.
Scouring for a job, you say,
And clippings of your daughters
At school functions, clasping exam results.
You keep them in a cereal box that we covered in paint
Age five. We’re in double figures now.
I get drunk on weeknights.
Rewind.
Hold me.
Ball of flesh and screams
And you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
Judy Judy Kansas cutie / it starts in the heartland / Tornado = social change through manipulated crisis / Toto the only free agent / Dorothy struck on her head by the closing window of virtual possibility / She realizes that hope'n'change have reached the prairie / Alice in Wonderland Hollywood / Kansas as futurist narrative / Star Wars pre-dated / It's a Wonderful Mythic Life / Miss Gulch as Henry Potter / Witchery in bitchery: Hillary 2016 / Scarecrow as Celtic bog-sacrifice victim / Tinman as ****** therapy client / Did that hurt? No - it felt wonderful ! / Bible-belt Pentecostal subtexts: "the anointing" / obsolete leonine monarchies / Louis Quatorze the Sun King / enlightenment through concussion / the tyrant must be resisted from the heartland / populist progressives plot stealthily to justify their rule through the wizardry of science / the tyrant utilizes tech to manipulate the credulous / green state fascism / journey out of ontic inevitability into the futurist nightmare / eco-mammon bailouts / infantile mental midgets ruled by witch-tyrants = One World Munchkinland / Dorothy as redeemer-Messiah / Dorothy as Mary Poppins / America exports populist prophecy to the greater world / Glinda the Matriarch-Goddess / Glinda as transcendent Wisdom / the Anti-witch antidote / Patriarchy creates "special effects" subterfuge / flying monkeys: shock-troops of the witch / simian social justice warriors / Obama as Witch of West AND Wizard simultaneously / flying monkeys: brown-shirt armies of new multi-culti order / George W. Bush was the the witch the house ("Hope & Change') fell on / Over the Rainbow: somewhere beyond ****** identity grievance-mongering / There's no place like the Restoration of All Things
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Mr Earth meets Madame Fire,
A stable man of intellect,
Charisma very much intact,
A logical fellow,
Manners of perfection noted,
Meditating on his issues,
Sometimes rather pessimistic,
Very sensual,
Rather ****** by design,
Tested waters thoroughly,
Before strolling into my bright light,
Not giving into love initially,
Can feel jealousy bite,
But **** he won't admit it,
There was another poet born on his special day,
Philip Levine,poetry must be written in the stars,
Madame Leo,
So dramatic,
Writes with mental pen of magic,
An uncomplicated soul,
Like him, She strives to be the best,
Loves to take central place in his affection,
Offers adoration as well as admiration,
This strong honest leader,
Likes to dominate,
With patience in care,
A masterpiece in passion,
This leonine lady will cross the ocean to find him,
So she can share her tender touch,
Whenever the time is right,
A four star combination with lots of light hearted love!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
Aftermath!
Wind blew away.
Tumbled trees.
Across the road were slain.
Trees deceased.
One or few.
Caught by the branches.
Felled.
Chaos in diversion's drench.
Liken to flowers on tender stems.
Trains deceased for hour of rush.
As leaves and rainfall both did gush.
Muddles of puddles.
Leonine wind.
Did the holy roar.
Sent from heaven or forced from hell.
Today the weather she presents no passion.
Slight chill in her heart.
Sun in her eye.
Storm forced out.
Fear did die.
Silent clouds drift through blue skies.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
i see him straightening the
ruffle of his native clothing,
putting words of truth
inside the empty parentheses
of mendacities -
it is through his leonine eyes
that i see the pointlessness
of men. through the
TV's hoarse static i can hear
his voice occupy the space
of obligation without swerving
to paths made available for ease
without clear trudge.
sir, you make it painless
to conceive these cutting truths -
death trembles in these taut attestations. in half-lighted periphery i can see the shadows
threatening to cast us into damnation, and it is in the bright ray of your speech that i have started to uncover the beasts
and their diminutive language.
dark as dark these ploys could be,
now that they are whiter than
ever with their transparencies,
you have handed these people
flames to torch effigies
and use their glare to light
the intransigent paths
to this nation's true calling!
spare us from the debaucher
of this once sacred land, the contortionists of these ill fates.
and preserve our just tillage
over these archipelagos!
save us from the vertigo of these
mangled, twisting roads!
give our speech obdurate
magnitude so we can hammer down
the lies thrown at us and cast them away together with their wretched demagogues!
let us once more, be brave
to withstand the eye of storms
and emerge wizened like
trees in the summer of
our old, resplendent memories
where everything is
and nothing
is speaking loosely
of something far from our hands
to hold, like
prosperity,
or effulgence - altogether!
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
I remember you, resplendent
in white and gold, like a ****** bride,
but (as you said) with no such intent,
adventuring off – I was ill in bed
or I’d have been with you – to make mischief
in the jasmine-scented Cairo night.
And I remember you, rosy with wine,
in a long blue gown, with blazing hair outspread,
fast asleep in the back of a London taxi.
I had such ado to wake you,
while another friend stood by,
holding your golden child.
And when you finally surfaced,
you staggered, baby on arm, up the steps,
refusing help, to your front door;
we watched, our hearts in our mouths,
till you found the lock, and vanished inside.
So you have lived your life, ever chasing
after the next rainbow; a leonine spirit,
shimmering in air made lambent by your fire.
For years you were my icon, my aspiration,
but each of us must be true to her own nature;
it’s the kobbolds of earth give wings to the sea-goat’s foot.
‘The words of Saturn are harsh after the songs of Apollo’:
You, that way. I, this way.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 6:00 PM UTC
At the Nassau County Medical Center We nurses were put on alert;
A truck hit a small car on the L.I.E. leaving someone in a world of hurt.
Our “John Doe” was being air lifted and we heard the copter drone near.
One look at his face and I knew he was gone from this world of Love and Fear.
Yes, we all knew it was Harry from his unmistakable leonine mane;
The charts had him labeled as “John Doe” but we knew who it was just the same.
The doctors, like heroes, were fighting to bring Harry back from the grave
But his heart had been pierced by a sliver of glass; there was no way that he could be saved.
Had his heart failed him, there on the roadway, or had he been killed in the crash.
I couldn’t feel mad at the trucker who did what he could at the last.
We found a gold watch in his pocket. “Harry F. Chapin” engraved.
A man who had fought to save others but who himself could not save.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
if fire is your element,
and
this is your year,
and
if
you wanted to be an asteroid in the night galaxies
to find a place to land
and
if
she
was your rebellion,
and
if
your rebellion never meant that you could land on
me:
the water that could soothe you,
the ambush of esoterica,
the place where you could lay your paranoia to sleep,
the resistance you denied entrance to,
then -
you could have just said
so.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
i have already something
new and sublime to say
about love.
as two people on the bench
where the birds are
unashamedly perching right by,
pecking on the cheek of the world
soon enough now, the hand of
which mad drivel shall tear
this photograph in two
and with a hand on the knee
as a gentle stamp to
a reaching-for-and-out epistle,
we are far away,
and love is as sad as the
flower that has grown
weary of waiting for the sun
to fulminate altogether with
its eyes staring in the
veranda of hope wide-awake.
and love is as short as the
sudden jolt of bones, atremble,
as though you have fallen
completely into,
but have only fallen out,
partially, one foot first
out the yawning door
and into the heavy premises
of a heart's trying forgetfulness.
to have heard once, the call
of a tame voice through
the wild hand of trouble's immensity, and to have held it
once so shortly bold thereafter,
with leonine eyes i see only
a small distance i cannot seal
with one kiss. i need a hundred more of you and a thousand more of this before i can fill your nebulosity with a million star-like
kisses traced only by the
white hand of time that continues to punctuate our
sentences right even before
our lips quiver to speak them
softly like how i first sank
in you and you in me, a flotsam
of memories.
i have something new to show
about love with mine eye's
unresting shutters capture
moments held loose like a mother's
frail child,
this photograph with your hand
on my knee,
cleaved into worlds from the
silence of our eyes and
only longing
speaks so much the straightforward,
we are far away.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
I see it, right there.
That faint glimmering in your eyes.
It’s hope,
It’s inspiration,
No wait, it’s love?
It’s everything.
I see everything in your eyes.
I see long nights,
Early mornings, and
Sweet memories.
I see Leonine taking his first steps,
I see Luna on her first day to school,
I see two hands ring clad interlocked.
I see us,
And to me,
That’s everything.
Do you see it?
That sparkle in your eyes when you look at me.
I see it,
And I love it.
I love everything,
I love you,
I love us.
My one and only,
My love,
My everything.
That’s what I see.
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 12:08 AM UTC