"musketeer" poems
I stand on the edge of the mine,
while I wait for my potions to brine,
I mine all day long.
Maybe I’m wrong,
But there could be diamonds right there.
I mine for that blue shine in despair.
Hoping that Iĺl find it here
Trying to be a Musketeer,
I went straight down,
Im looking around,
But no diamonds!
Iĺl never see the horizon
until Iĺl find the shine
It may be the life line.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
Shorts
T-shirt
Flip flops or barefoot
Pepsi
Virginia Slim
Three Musketeer
Long thick hair
Blue eyes
And a beautiful soul
Seven months had gone by
About 214 days
175 sick
The rest not to bad
Chemo took it's toll
Ran her down
Had her drained
Never wondered why me
Always kept a smile
Even when the battle was for her life
She been through so much
It's no surprise she never gave up
None of us knew
This was new to us
We took remission as a win
Fight over
No rematch
Mom raise your hands
A proven champion
Back to life
How it use to be
All smiles making plans
Had a follow up late November
Still remember her deep cleaning the day before
Not a spot untouched
No ***** clothes
Dinner cooked for two nights
Never one to have a purse so I remember thinking
Why is she carrying a bag
I never asked but I think she knew
The beast came back to life
Showing no mercy
Ran rapid through her body
Before I could ask
Her look gave me my answer
Chemo wasn't a option
Neither was praying to a God
Natural medicine and marijuana were useless
We all stood around confused and just as useless
She made it back home early December
Took a week but made her list
First year she didn't go so we went searching
Seen the hurt when she couldn't get out of bed on Christmas
Held on to see the year 2k
Ninety six hours later she closed her eyes one last time
My hasn't been dry since
Shorts
T-shirt
Flip flops or barefoot...
I love you mom
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
emergence is an act of rebellion.
our eyelids peaking open like rusty curtains
as we steadily count backwards
5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1
climbing from our morning covers in one swift movement
like the bold musketeer ready to pierce his opponent.
allowing the cold to wash over our body
towards the to do lists and outdoor morning mist.
legs miraculously sprung to life from our dreams
seconds ago resting in a field of sunlit streams.
allowing forced smiles to emerge in the mirror
if the natural ones forgot to attend our morning ritual.
those cowards.
allowing our own smiles to send butterflies down our spines
if our lovers forgot to play their part.
those ********
our routines steadying us on the road
outside the house
into the yard
outside the fence
into the deli
out of your mind
into the grind
all forming like some rapid fire kiss of motion
where emerging and departing
become inseparable lovers.
and we cherish this sort of alchemy
where our paints emerge as paintings,
where our words turn into poems
that string along
melodies
into song
for
the pulsing of life echoes within
calmly waiting
to emerge
from the gilded cage
we are meant to burst open
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
Hey you there
It's not just me in here
Oh how I wish you could hear the coconspirator
Or see in a single tear how loud the fear of fear truly can be
And how I'm so rarely allowed to steer
I AM a dark passenger, MY dark passenger
A near prison like constricting atmosphere with no breathing apparatus gear
Life can be so impossibly cavalier
Death is always closer than it should ever appear, regardless of the mirror
In my story I have the glory of a lone fourth musketeer
With a crowded asylum between each ear
So many questions but not a single agreed upon answer will appear
And I've yet to meet this so called infallible puppeteer
Though the hierarchy is clear, it passes through an auctioneer
"Punish thee if thy finds I should ever veer from thy holy 'engineer'"
Hell, they can stay put like a headlight frozen deer
I'd rather be allowed to be the one to disappear
I did not ask to be here
©2025
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 7:13 PM UTC
Roar Bean Got
Chosen
Sipping on taste
never forgotten
So miraculous power
rising.
Been told so
Boldly,
her uniqueness
Only it's mode of
attachment
Sips up on you like a
Goddess
in fragments
Her spell of the blend,
Coffee lips he was sold
kissed her hand
Mystical bow
Thought's love-arrowed
Through "Hearts" Wowed
All her poem's
Quick thinking
The (Quickie) hour?
Coffee lips ******* the
tower money showered
Home-body
Coffee__steamy
he raided my book
Crystal ball showed me,
"Everyone"
Oh! my he dated
(Holy-Coffee)
My Ego got inflated
Digging gold dreamily
Flower Lily mated and
seeded
Please "Lips" dream on
Opening up the invitation
Coffee? Me or You
Masquerade flower's brocade
Spellbound red poppy I fooled you
Coffee says cheesecake
Mystical play awake
Chosen One Bean
Clean Godly-scent
Cat nine rumor years.
coffee live's pretend
Million in one tear's
gallivant super stirred
Small World Cafe
Big University Princeton NJ.
Mister Mystical laptop taking
a sip New Jersey
The kaleidoscope Blueberry
Go Girl Godiva-raspberry
Coffee lip me
Not over my lip's
He takes another sip
Carmello, He's the
good fellow
Italian mob cappuccino
Leave the Cannoli
Take the gun movie set
"Tarantino"
Here's his handle I'm his
Secret Gun-it lips
I told you
my secret Streaming
play scout
The smell of his aura cup
In his eye's only James
No games just coffee?
Bonds
What about me?
Her chosen bean
Luna blue blueberry
His sugar flight
"Shimmering Chandeliers"
Hello musketeer's fight
Mystical Coffee well suited
BMW car's
Wedding Bellringer
We are destined to star is born
Judy my Mom the singer.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
I'm an enigma, a quitter and survivor, a pioneer weary of the change that literally defines the career
In desperate need of a savior or at the very least a lucky rabbits foot souvenir
One to keep me free and clear from the type of bad karma that's over the top severe
I've been thinking I don't belong here, I don't know if it's me talking that talk or the fear
I let it take the wheel and steer, my driving advise from the rear seat falls on a deaf ear
I guess I ain't suppose to interfere with the charioteer, the why isn't clear
Now I've gotta kick it into another gear to commandeer my own life like a buccaneer
This deer in headlights nonsense won't get me anywhere near my "new beginnings" frontier
I lost track of my trail guide mountaineer, forgotten about like I'm the fourth musketeer
The sheer volume of every collected tear almost drowns me at least once a year
Or acts like pavement when I smear across it after falling from the atmosphere
My guardian angel is a horrible puppeteer, seems to disappear when needed most like he's the one with crippling fear
...go figure
©2021
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 2:05 AM UTC
If you thought you were invincible,
Then Mr fantastic is the name that I bare. Lower your force field, no need to fear.
I could answer a thousand questionnaires and still "You" I would prefer.
Like daddies first gift, am your teddy bear.
Resisting your tender dimpled smile was a harder battle than I could bare.
A trail of your presence, I would follow, lavender in the air.
Watching you walk away entices my stare.
It makes me wonder the identity of the architect behind your hypnotic rear.
Now we play, we fight, we tease, we care.
You make me a warrior in the game of truth or dare.
Stay alive with me far and near.
Life only exists in these moments we share.
And as my fingers playfully drape between your hair.
You giggle softly, as my whispers flow in your ear.
I shelter you completely from the front and rear.
I will have my way, your kiss, our cheer.
As we seat together in a bamboo chair.
Am energised in a place so rare
You roll your backside like none other could compare.
Like all good girls gone bad, you leave me lusting for a heir.
Tonight, a private party awaits up the stairs.
Laid waiting by the sofa, cherries and cream is all you wear.
Luring closer, your index finger beckons for my sensual strong souvenir.
A love feast begin with a prayer in arrears.
Like a stallion, you submit completely into my care.
simmering with radiance as I sweeten your lair.
I carve your arches with honey and steer.
You got me feeling like romeo in a
viewtiful affair.
Your skin speaks and my hands understands its fears,
Your eyes full of desire, my heartbeat fully aware
Your lips "hypnotic", my eyes hang on it like a chandelier.
We float away while our lungs beg for air.
One touch to your soft spot, I move like a musketeer.
Your fingers claw my back to go deeper in there.
You feel a flood building, aching to be spared.
I suspend it all and pull out instead.
Can you feel it coming, be prepared.
Like Moses said, "I" will take you there.
A water fall rises for the one who fared.
You recite the lords prayer but my name you declare.
Life could be pointless without a care, Best to find something interesting and relieve the despair.
Like the way you found that flower blooming in the air,
The same way I found you and knew we could be a pair.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
She collected men like hats, she would try them on see if they fit alter her personality for a day or two then, they sat on the heads of old teddy bears gathering dust.. One day she was a cowgirl, another a musketeer, an adventurer and just for something different she covered her head completely
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Grace Before Meals
Sunday afternoon, a year ago.
Early but late afternoon, end of July sun still high enough
to provide a loving and kind warmth through fractus clouds,
But doing double duty and
Supplying continuous eye candy via
riots of razzle-dazzles glistenings upon the prima facie of
my friend, my boon companion,
my bay.
Sitting on a weathered Adirondack chair,
grayed like me, a solitary outpost,
our third Musketeer,
it so belongs where I find it, in the corner of the yard,
hard by a white picket fence and footed by
an out cropping,
a patch of wild grass uncarpeted, we are aligned,
the chair and I, in so many ways,
we accompany each other
beach-facing, one unit,
designed by man but
nature-made of, and signed by her in a cursive, gentle script as follows:
**Quiet, please, for this is
a place of our mutual
quiet contemplation.**
These regal chairs are tinged with green moss stains,
as I am tinged with silver streaks
so we laugh at each other
and we laugh together,
delighted to share
the grandeur of the pleasure of
the exactness of this precise moment.
The bay claps its waves
in honor of the symmetry
of the trinity of man, wood and water,
a more perfect union
My woman calls to me,
supper is ready and
I smell the onions and the raisins
and the love that singes our shared salted air
With deep regrets and promises solemn,
Adieu, Adieu my friends, bay and chair, sunlight extraordinaire,
wait for me!
This poem but my R.S.V.P.
an oath of return sworn,
for I am man, placed here only
to sing the praises of my earthly delights,
my truest friends,
I sing of thy grace,
Grace Before A Meal
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
'Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.'
Though one runner may stumble,
two can steady themselves.
A team of three athletes is not easily overtaken.
Though a single note may fade,
two can harmonise in concert.
A song of three chords is not quickly forgotten.
Though a regent may lose his way,
two can guide one another.
A caravan of three kings is not easily distracted.
Though a child may feel alone,
two will laugh with mischief.
A gang of three children is not quickly bored.
Though one musketeer may fall,
two can stand together.
A band of three inseparables is not easily defeated.
Though one disciple may tire,
two can support one another.
A prayer triplet is not quickly discouraged.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 6:17 AM UTC
The ancient satin tapestry
hangs ragged on a wall
Depicting scenes of chivalry
that no one can recall
And as the candles flicker out
and shadows disappear
There sits alone in darkened hall
a single Musketeer
He hears again from pits of Hell
a rising steady roar
Beelzebub appears anew
to pound the drums of war
So as in every age of man
with shield and with sword
He leaves his love, his land, his life
to go and fight the horde
And as with ages long ago
he shouts the battle cry
And it never does occur to him
to ask the ******** why
So he fights and kills
for Kings and Queens
who tally up the score
And he thinks by shedding
so much blood
he'll put an end to war
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
**** all the children get a chance at the sandpit... only the dog collared ones attempting wrestling matches of biceps tonguing rhetoric touring waggle get the pulpit... kinda **** if you ask me: said sir sacrifice-a-lot when sir lancelot married; but all the **** happened after the ukrainian ***** it was the russian bourgeoise one... you forget you dim-witted bolshevik... the russian one... the russian one! not the ukrainian one! ah crap... too late, the crimson lunar eclipse from edinburgh to st. petersburg gave me mythological charisma; endeavour of the readers who can’t remember my tourism earning the year 2007 as distinct: i can earn an awareness of lying about the jealousy i have for the century of being a musketeer defending louis vix; ja athos! ein athos! i’m athos.... wrinkly & masturbated ******** toss! hey ** hey ** we dig dig dig dig dig, it's what we like to do... coal mine.... coal mine... coal mine... with a millionth diamond... we dig dig dig dig dig... hej ** do lasu by sie szło... high ** high ** unto abreit macht frei we go.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
The Musketeer
People don’t want to hear negative truth,
Even when they say they do.
If I told you of my life,
You would disappear out of sight.
You only want to see smiling faces;
You don’t want to hear I have no light.
Bury me with good intentions.
Say cheer up to bring me down.
You want my love? You cannot have it.
You have not earned anything from me but a frown.
My face a portrait picture;
The eyes occasionally move.
I only look up from my despair,
So that I can see right through you.
All I see is no reflection of me.
Such empathy, such apathy.
Why does nobody feel like me?
I relate to all, only through things I saw.
There is no love for me anymore.
All you say contains no truth.
I am broken, beaten, used.
If I fall for you, I will fall alone,
Because you are already lost without your phone.
All I own could never buy your attention,
So endlessly I fail to mention.
There was a time I stood for you only;
That time has passed because you never secured me.
So at long last the time has passed,
I am standing alone at an impasse.
None shall pass, goodbye I’m leaving,
For I still protect my every feeling,
By saying naught of my ten thousand thoughts,
That I wish I had said before I left.
Now not one negative word will ever be said,
About the idea which I protect.
The lies have been said and I have faced death;
Stared right down the barrel into nothingness.
With my last dying breath,
I will hope to somehow see love again.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
i'm frequently asked about
what historical
period i'd like to re-enact -
i've said my favourite
'the three musketeer period',
all that intrigue -
i've said the burning of rome
with nero on the lyre -
i might have added 19th century
london - elephant man toddle oo (halfwit u)
le, loo...
but as the days pass me by...
i'm with Kantian humour
(against Nietzsche - russian
niet toward -zsche -
unpronounceable - itchy zebra -
pronouns against nouns,
pronouns against posthumous fame
with people becoming nouns) -
me? i'd like to relive the French Revolution,
after all, isn't America keeping it's
laws on firearms, just in case?
should the government becomes too Monty Python
and the rabble decides to overthrow it
having a chance to buy guns
is welcome to change the crucifix for
the guillotine - n'es pas?
god bless america, after all the serial
killers are taken away with the tide
the populace will have a chance to overthrow
the government - and i know that the great stylist
who liked over-italicising didn't get
Kant's humour... but indeed...
that would be a revolution,
and indeed only in america... all i have is
construction industry's tools -
muck and murk - bullet to the head would do
just fine - he was after all
bred from the stock of clergy... no surprises there
to mind the opinion.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
Whilst sun rays beam,
on this longing cement,
Grass and nature perk,
leaning towards goals,
waiting for rain in drought,
As dry as deserts,
Like gunpowder to a musketeer,
Dry, explosive in heat,
Skin and fur are touched,
by her light feathery reach.
Soul and hearts enter zones,
of tranquility and peace,
Blackest of seas,
Appear as turquoise overtones,
Yearning over this land,
we call home,
When its truly her house,
of sanctuary, her humble abode,
Birds sing harmonic tunes,
through gaps in trees,
Minds are opened,
like gates to a throne,
Separated,
From a plethora of clouds,
That weigh us down like anvils.
Within our persona,
we expect greatness,
over uncontrollable forces,
But she grins and laughs,
like a sinister angel,
of giving and forgiving,
All the while,
Earth remains spinning,
She sustains extant,
And keeps us living.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
There’s a little corner in my heart
Which is bespoken from the start
I used this corner on my own
For a little moment all alone
This corner was a precious bit
I let no one but myself sit
It was reserved for the cherished one
No one but me was that person
My love with me this corner saw
I could safely let me here thaw
Then one day my heart saw a rush
All around there was a gush
It’s beats reached up peaks really high
And Every inch let out a sigh
It was the day you entered here
Awed my heart you musketeer
You searched around for a living space
In that corner you found your place
An invasion I couldn’t stop
Your charm was making my heart throb
I tried to get you out of there
After all this was all my sphere
I heard a voice in the background run
Isn’t this space for the special one..??
I guess I loved you more than me
Coz in that corner I let you be
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 5:59 PM UTC
I'll go with you to the end of the world
I'll fly with you to at least other planets
I will go with you even to New York
If only you were with me and I'm with you
I will be with you and you with me
And there will never be sorrow
I will be a part of you and you will me
And happiness will always be with us
I'm ready to give up everything for you
I'm ready for you to become a Musketeer
I'm ready for you for everything
If only you were with me and I'm with you
I will be with you and you with me
And there will never be sorrow
I will be a part of you and you will me
And happiness will always be with us
I will be with you and you with me
And there will never be sorrow
I will be a part of you and you will me
And happiness will always be with us
2017
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
That stoic, elderly house
that sits beneath the sun
has it’s door hinged open
just waiting for someone
All day in the Virginian countryside
the waves of wind pass by
Yet the door remains open
‘till the sky begins to cry
A table set for two
venetian blinds on the floor
A stool, a record, a painting
All watching through that door
The night falls for the day
and the house falls for sleep
and through the unhinged door
A small songbird must creep
The sun forgets to wake the house
But the songbird pays her fee
To room with the house that night
and sings from the walnut tree
The house door swings shut
afraid to listen and hear
For the house is afraid
Of the musical musketeer
Careful to know each other
But their minds begin to roam
All while, the songbird brings him music
and the house brings her home
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC