"papyri" poems
Ah, you ask
what the origin is of the word pharaoh
Let me assure you first
such questions need to be asked
and you have come to the right person
for I am an antimologist
one specialized in the study of the origin of words
1
Let us consider....pharaoh...pharaoh...pharaoh...
Ah, I have it...the answer retrieved
from the safe confines and treasuries
in the deepest recesses of my mind....
The pharaoh
was so called
for these rulers were,
in spite of the scorching heat and unforgiving sun,
these rulers were always fair
and never became dark
and so that clears the mystery of the first half of pharaoh
2
And moreover, it is revealed in the papyri
and graffiti in the tombs
these Pharaohs could row -
even as Rulers these Pharaohs could row -
you know
row, row, row your boat
and they could row
the full length and breadth of the Nile
And thus from the 2 Divine attributes
of FAIR and ROW
came the title: PHARAOH
3
But....but...but! you say
Ah, I know, I know - you are about to ask
why then is the word spelt as PHARAOH
and not as FAIRROW?
Ah, such questions you have this morning -
what are you on?
Too much sugar and candy floss last night?
Well, you are lucky as I’m not only an antimologist
but also an IsDorian
and so I shall dispel your doubts at once:
It’s simple - remember they were Ancient Egyptians
and these Ancient Egyptians did not know their English well
and so instead of the proper English FAIRROW
they gave us the mangled PHARAOH -
and let us not be too hard on them
as you also recall this was all in the infancy of human civilization
and we shall be graceful enough in our maturity to accept these errors,
for after all, these Ancient Egyptians were but as children
in the History of Human Motion
And I hope I have now dispelled your morning perturbations
as I rowed you over
the rivers of knowledge of antimology, IsDory
and the secret knowledge of FAIRROW and the PHARAOH
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
Come Sunday that day of leisure
Between sulci fish shallow gyri
Reel out meter form a measure
Come Sunday that day of leisure
Weekday words weakly pleasure
Scarcely etch decay'd papyri
Come Sunday that day of leisure
Between sulci fish shallow gyri
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
Even though the conversations
were often fraught, too heavy
with all of the unspoken
emotions and accusations,
guilt and grudges,
I still wish
I could pick up the phone.
Even though I had to
watch the time
to make sure that I called
before you went too far
down into
the daily hell
of alcohol,
before ethanol
loosened your tongue
and sent words spinning
off into the white cellular noise,
so you mumbled fragments
that I parsed like fragile papyri,
I still wish I could hear your voice.
Even though I would worry
about what you would be like with my kids,
I still wish you could see them.
Seven time we've done this now, and
I'd still like to know
what you'd think about it all.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
Morningstar dazzling my chamber
with shades of amber, I arose to the aroma of coffee,
and felt the bleeding ink in my veins
seeking for papyri to scrawl
my enduring love
for poesy !!
©shadeofalonelygirl
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
BRIAN DEMPSEY'S BROTHER
So, I see
you are the future
people of a 1000 years
beyond me.
My words see you
even though I can not.
I am the long dead
how curious it is
to be so
and to have you
read me
or of my ever
thinking that you would
hear my paper voice.
Finding it hard to believe
this scribbled scrap of paper
could outlive
the mind that. . .
never mind
never mind
so you are the new
here and now
and I am
not.
Am nothing.
My only merit being this
somehow survived.
An ordinary human
from 2017.
Paper I
must assume is
an outdated mode
of transport
for thought
or word.
I am as precious
as papyri
to you my future
archeologist.
Maybe now
mind merely talks to mind.
And so you are amazed
to find me
"...wandering about in country dark
the wind roaring in French
as it prowls and howls
about a house
somewhere near
Saint-Priest-des-Champs.
I mock the storm
howling at the death
of a loved one
to a night that does not care..."
It is like I have never been. . .
So, people of a 1000 years
from now
all you can know
is that I was
Brian Dempsey's
brother
and that a night
finds me here
in my despair
calling out his name
the only thing
I own.
I am just this
side of sane.
Perhaps by now
you have abolished death
and life goes on and on and on
without end?
Or even eased despair
to such an extent that. . .*
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC