"parry" poems
I love you,
The best is yet to come.
Don't scramble,
Let us plan our lives.
We have it in our hands,
Luck and destiny will bend before us.
Yes we toil for it,
Both of us will put efforts.
Don't be scared dear,
Just hold my hand firmly.
What we can't individually do,
Together we will manage it all.
The sun in our sky has risen,
It will reach higher up above.
Not burning it will emblazon,
Just shining away all darkness.
How differences of ours remain,
We won't let them become large.
And yes, today I tell you darling,
Two different individuals we are.
So many of differences will ripen,
But how we treat them is unto us.
We can't let them become so large,
The love we share is much bigger.
Just practice perseverance my love,
Stay strong & toil hard we both will.
Not breaking mountains we must be,
Still challenging stay all our methods.
Zest of ours must not fail in this spirit,
Zealous we voyage on in the sea of life.
We both have that passion in ourselves,
Helping people parry off all the dangers.
Never would we worry about our past,
For we both cherish the lessons learnt.
Odds will often rise between both of us,
We won't let them disunite us any day.
This love I feel is a bit experienced,
And my experience tells me a lot.
We must never fall out separate,
Because together we're happy.
Differences do not invite rifts,
Neither should we let them...
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
I.
*“You can only fight the way you practice”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
His lessons started late
As always, and as always
What is thrown is a question
You grip tightly
around your fingers
as one would,
as one always should.
With a branch he beckons:
“Come” he asks,
*“if a stick is struck from this angle,
what would your answer be?”*
Always, the old man taught
With each strike, each parry,
Each disarm and lock,
Each time my knuckles
Would hurt. This way
he makes it sure
that my body
remembers.
This is always
the first step.
My mind might forget.
But the body
Remembers.
II.
*“It is difficult to realize the true Way just through sword-fencing. Know the smallest things and the biggest things, the shallowest things and the deepest things.”
― Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings: Miyamoto Musashi*
With him, everything starts
The vague quality of nonwords
Taught from pain, simplified
Through science:
the fulcrum and the lever.
Each joint, each turn,
a pattern to comprehend,
all things work in context:
*A framework of the undeniable
Fact:*
*the world is separate
In only these two words:*
Taub at Tihaya
The colloquial words for
Face down and face up;
This is a pattern
of the body.
III.
*“If you wish to control others you must first control yourself”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
Tihaya
The lesson starts
When he presses
His thumb forward
to a hand asking for alms
like turning a doorknob
too far to the right.
Taub
when I pull back
four fingers
on a giving hand
too far to what is left.
these are the means
for control.
When I know
How much is necessary
To push or to pull,
To teach or to break.
- 18 October 2017
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
Felt like the steel tipped edges of a fake sword,
A young lover's sting, inclined to make one sob
And feel sorry
But no, not a word
Spoken 'gainst the face of the snob
Never a parry
Nor a word against sherry
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 7:35 PM UTC
Don Lane and Graham Kennedy entertain in the after life cafe
Don lane '. Oh yeah I am putting on my top hat, and I also wear nothing else
Because I am dead now, and I don't have to worry about being appropriately dressed,
And I also have a lady sitting over at the bar, and she has great looking legs and *****
I want to go over to her, hey lady, how are you going today
Lady'. I am fine, and I am Marilyn Monroe
Don Lane'. I would've loved to interview on my show
Marilyn'. No, I heard the afterlife was a good place for me, I was famous in life, I don't want to be famous here.
Don Lane'. Ok let's go to this table, I know you as well, refresh my memory
And yes Ricky May poured sixteen ice cubes all over Don and
Don said well, obviously these people didn't want to be famous, ok, who are you
Man said'. I am Don Bradman
Don Lane'. You died before me, have you showed the afterlife how you played cricket
Don Bradman'. Yes, and we beat Saturn by 15 runs, and I finally averaged 100, it is pretty cool
Don Lane'. Who do you play next
Don Bradman'. Well this weekend we play the Martians from Mars
Don Lane'. Well here is Graham Kennedy with his after life song
Well I said I wouldn't make it here
Because of the weird joked I told
And I thought the devil will own my soul
But I was stood up straight and tall
Felthad a weird beer up here, they call it AAAA
And I have always wondered since that say
What does the A mean
Then it hit me, oh silly me
The A meant Afterlife
And we are with Ricky May and Tony Grieg
And Don Bradman and Joh Bjieke peterson
Yes, this afterlife is so much fun with a AAAA in my hand,
Ok Don Lane let's parry in the afterlife
Don Lane'. Ok thanks Graham, now here is Bon Scott with his after life song
The clouds are shaking
And the moon is rocking with the men who are put in there
To scare bad guys away from doing evil on earth
And yes, AC/DC are still going strong on Earth
And I am doing well up here , because it is so easy, man
To be fit and healthy up here, I said you
Shook the after life, all night long
Oh yeah baby, you
Shook the afterlife, all night long
Don Lane'. See you next time, bye
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sun and Moon posture a battle stance
Charge of darkness parry of light
Pagans celebrate the Sun's advance
Four days from the longest night
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Don Lane and Graham Kennedy entertain in the after life cafe
Don lane '. Oh yeah I am putting on my top hat, and I also wear nothing else
Because I am dead now, and I don't have to worry about being appropriately dressed,
And I also have a lady sitting over at the bar, and she has great looking legs and *****
I want to go over to her, hey lady, how are you going today
Lady'. I am fine, and I am Marilyn Monroe
Don Lane'. I would've loved to interview on my show
Marilyn'. No, I heard the afterlife was a good place for me, I was famous in life, I don't want to be famous here.
Don Lane'. Ok let's go to this table, I know you as well, refresh my memory
And yes Ricky May poured sixteen ice cubes all over Don and
Don said well, obviously these people didn't want to be famous, ok, who are you
Man said'. I am Don Bradman
Don Lane'. You died before me, have you showed the afterlife how you played cricket
Don Bradman'. Yes, and we beat Saturn by 15 runs, and I finally averaged 100, it is pretty cool
Don Lane'. Who do you play next
Don Bradman'. Well this weekend we play the Martians from Mars
Don Lane'. Well here is Graham Kennedy with his after life song
Well I said I wouldn't make it here
Because of the weird joked I told
And I thought the devil will own my soul
But I was stood up straight and tall
Felthad a weird beer up here, they call it AAAA
And I have always wondered since that say
What does the A mean
Then it hit me, oh silly me
The A meant Afterlife
And we are with Ricky May and Tony Grieg
And Don Bradman and Joh Bjieke peterson
Yes, this afterlife is so much fun with a AAAA in my hand,
Ok Don Lane let's parry in the afterlife
Don Lane'. Ok thanks Graham, now here is Bon Scott with his after life song
The clouds are shaking
And the moon is rocking with the men who are put in there
To scare bad guys away from doing evil on earth
And yes, AC/DC are still going strong on Earth
And I am doing well up here , because it is so easy, man
To be fit and healthy up here, I said you
Shook the after life, all night long
Oh yeah baby, you
Shook the afterlife, all night long
Don Lane'. See you next time, bye
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
I can see the weakness
in my own words- their
weary Translucence,
even as I
wind my euphemisms and parry
****
snip the comma off,
attempt to catch my thoughts
before venom leaks out
of my em-dash.
but I can't.
Won't.
take back any
noun I flung
And So.
as you
walk down the hall
I see my adjectives
Just-
dripping off your
neck
rolling down the corridor
fat, black
and innocuous
and somehow feel
that I have
completely failed
at English.
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
As the cobra falters before it doth strike I recoil away from thee, awaiting my moment to ricochet forward and make my **** Such false security aids my real course and weakens my adversary’s resolve and as you happily take full advantage of this ill advised programme you can rely that your mistake is now my gain. As you plunge, I parry and as your momentum fades mine increases in velocity until my blade doth find its target.
This sword of mine, made of finest worked, metal, slides easily through your personage. Flesh, muscle, even bone presents a none problem for this well forged tool. Sharpened point now immersed so deeply through your core that it conveys me too close to this pierced torso. I am spattered by such spurts of blood and sickened by another’s foul breath.
We gaze for a moment, you in the horror and pain of defeat and myself in the satisfaction of victory. You remain upright only through the skewer I have delivered and it is at my decree that you do so. As I withdraw my being the blade extracts itself and it is only then that you are allowed to descend to your indubitable destination.
As crumpled legs can no longer hold the weight of thee I use the momentum of this blades removal to pirouette my body. The spin that culminates with such a strike, a laceration so immense that the removal of your skull is no more than a mere triviality. Your destination is now complete. This is the legitimate place for a lesser man and the norm for a superior warrior than thee.
Come take this gift dear Lucifer, I make a present to you of death's cadaver, it lies here before me at this very moment and it is yours. A donation from one great warrior to another. It seems that I fill such a bottomless pit with unworthy adversary. They suppose honour holds them to stand before such a skilled combatant but their is no morality for lesser men to try. There is no such thing as a honourable fool.
I seek he that will try my skills, he that will take me to the brink of death with more than a single strike. For this person I will gladly redeem as a worthy opponent, for he, I will present my respect in more than a just a mere bow. Such adversary should he become victorious will possess a legacy that will draw him to the status of majesty. I would gladly fall to this superior being and as such, this would be a most fitting and virtuous death.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
As I plunge the blade towards her heart
She wraps her arms around me
I wrestle her off to plunge again
she clings on tight, fights on in vain
We feint and parry though she stands in one spot
For she is a rose rambler and pruning my lot
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
Adversity climbs aboard when least we can afford it
The gremlins of the fools of fate are primed to raid the ship,
Murphy's Law adds substance to the soup's interpretation
And the parasites engage with glee when first, they take a sip.
Resistance at its lowest in the darkest throes of struggle
Endurance at its lowest ebb when caste against the tide,
The secret's in the stance and stare which moulds the way to combat
Determined by the grit and heart and fibre deep inside.
Bad enough to buckle in initial ****** and parry
Bad enough to give concession well before it's due,
Hard enough to muster the support of all and sundry
When corrosion from within is unraveling the glue.
Sleep eludes the tired mind and worry lines occur
The Bank you've used for 30 years has fled,
Your dependents you supported in their time of dire need
Will no longer meet your gaze or keep you fed.
And the crowning factor crushing you is not the battle waged
It is not the lack of energy or will,
The crushing blow which flattens you and leaves you destitute
Is that FAMILY leads the charge to wish you ill!
Marshalg
In support of my dearest, dearest Sister.
12 August 2013
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
Hope is dangerous
Perhaps that's why it hangs around on street corners
And in doorways
Waiting to waylay me as I pass through
To get my morning coffee
I've been fighting with Hope
But it doesn't fight fair
It has a shiv that cuts deeply into my heart
And the parry fractures on my ulnae
Say more about its victory over my defenses
Than these inadequate words ever can.
Hope has a rap sheet a mile long
And when it comes knocking,
Part of me knows it would probably be better
To turn out the lights and pretend I'm not home
But I'm recklessly unafraid.
And the danger excites me.
And I climb on the back of Hope's motorcycle
Not caring that he's taking the curves too fast
And I let hope sneak me out of the house in the middle of the night
Running away together into the night
Knowing full well that when the morning comes,
He will be long gone.
Hope has me sitting in this car in an abandoned shipyard
Waiting for the drop
Believing, against all sanity, that you will show up
To make the exchange
To continue the deal.
Hope is reckless and fearless
Hope is the explanation behind every one of these scars
I haven't seen you in a long time, but
Foolishly, I still believe in your promise
And soon, the court date with Hope will come
And my love for you will stand trial
Though it's never been anything but innocent,
I know I would be found guilty, time and again
Hope blasphemously sits in the judges chair
Feet up on the railing
As he waits for you to show up and swear in.
Hope brokers back-door deals with me in the passenger seat
Leads me down dark alleys at 2 in the morning
Making promises nobody could ever keep
He keeps my bank account at an all-time low
He holds the gun to my ribcage in the tattoo parlor and asks, one more time
"Will this save you? Will this make you free?"
Hope is an exercise in flirtation with disaster
Except that Hope doesn't know how to flirt,
Doesn't do anything halfway -
It becomes an exercise in falling in love with disaster
Finding beauty in the broken things.
I'm begging you -
I know Hope is dangerous
But please don't tear him away from me
Dear god, please.
Because if you leave this time
If you fail me now
If you walk away, he walks with you.
Despair becomes my only company
And though dangerous, Hope is exciting
Despair just hands me the bottle of tequila
And shaking his head knowingly, tells me
To drink until it's empty
To say goodbye to you and Hope
The only way I can
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
fireflies zigzag following pupils pin *****
light mayonaise layers dead flesh and dead seeds
shadows bleed through the cracks
a lone train howls its hastening arrival
Alarming call like an unseen wolf
Flashing lights overhead and a low rumble
a condensed storm
helicopter cradling its dying cargo
bringing a regurgitation for the baby bird
disguised as a hospital with a faltering business plan
mufflers and mosquitoes parry the blows
winded joggers step next to termite eaten trees
Channel surfing seen a strobe lite
betraying the activities behind the neighboors
curtained windows scene
rituals carve another day into the known
comfort is routines cage
a worn trail rut that hardly allows
a different direction roll the stone uphill
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 10:15 PM UTC
My words are my armour, my blade, my security.
I use their definitive purpose to strike, to wound, to ****
I have no need to use an actual knife, my rapier bladed tongue
cuts with an accuracy of a surgeons scalpel.
If you have no parry, or riposte, I'll Épée a thrusting word like the sword.
Your entire being is a valid target, I cannot fight with fists, I cannot crush
you physically, but mentally I will make you my target for words.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones! but words will never hurt me"
Oh, but they will hurt. Long after a scar has healed, a cut has scabbed,
words will linger, haunt and remind your every waking moment of the day you picked a fight, a dalliance if you will with a lexicographer.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
(Before you read this, this is only applicable to my experience, I'm not judging you if this is still your life; it's written more because it was my life and I wasn't living.)
At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
Bored of chasing a broken prize, smoke n lies
I chose to thrive, pry open these permanently closing eyes.
It was the bane of my existence,
now my resistance is high instead of me.
I better be the best pedigree of I.
Instead of the guy flying with eyes far from wide
spying those that despise trying to get inside my mind,
to find they aren't real. Addicted no longer,
uplifted, higher than leaves can carry,
now you’re green with envy while I parry
back your attacks and crack on.
I blow-back your slow trap and reflect upon your affliction
I’m best without your friction on my lungs,
now I’m cutting you with the diction from my tongue,
no grinder. Now my mind’s up to speed,
no amphetamine, no dependency,
it certainly seems that I’m living better than I could ever dream.
I’m an evergreen standing steady for centuries.
At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
Sweet dawn
Sunrise, day
You must leave the night queen's bay..
Spy lovers lingering
Love still goes on
See the wonder
The light in the night,
The sigh of my heart as the arrow strikes
The tune in my bed
Races around in my head
You.. with me..
Let the music play..
Wine and verse, parry the chord
Take my breath,
Don't say another word
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
My name is Thomas de Charney
16 years old but rarely play
Father a humble Templar Knight
Pedigree noble bloodline might
Was born special is all I know
For God’s direction to and fro
Shield from danger ab ovo
Reason revealed from His glow
Broadsword and lance, reading abound
Practice and fight til victors crowned
Warrior and Monk seen as one
One and Only Begotten Son
Father taught me the skill to fight
Learn skill to read on parchment write
Knight Templar to be, but then what ?
Fate left to God with no rebut
Then one day Father came to me
Young Parsifal son you will be
Sequestrated as directed
Pushed to excel unaffected
Templar Knight who carries his sword
Doing God’s work for no reward
Beget with specific design
Some day made known I do consign
_______________________________________
Father, it’s time we practice, yes—deke the
wield of your sword and parry your blows, and
push myself until all the sweat has left my
body. For I am a young Parsifal soon to become
a Templar Knight.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
En-garde fellow poet
who stands with gold pen sword.
Raise thy weapon and duel with me
in bout with words.
My tool be sharp with potent prose.
sonneteer stand is ready to fight
Yes En-garde I say
for be know to slain one with a mighty song.
And I am Known to gather crowds
who watch many a victory
Un-garde I echo with parry to cut thy thoughts.
With sabre pen sharp with ink red.
Perhaps than you shall bleed
as we will meet upon ground of page.
En--garde you who cast a shadow
of judgment with they eyes
For battle shall commence
on Fields a plenty
And I will win a sun for sure.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
I am not a martyr.
I am not so pious as to suffer the slashing of a knife-edged tongue.
For what cause?
What peace could my silence bring me?
My tongue is metal too.
Perhaps not as sharp as yours,
My words still have the soft scent of gold about them,
But it is metal too.
And I am not a martyr.
I remember when you coddled my name on your tongue.
It was safe there against the slick muscle and gentle press of taste buds.
Why is simple sentiment and unblemished truth to complex for you now?
I don’t want to play these games of ****** and parry with you anymore.
I am cut, you are bleeding, and we are both weary
From the constant cleaving of delicate flesh.
It is a bitter taste that blooms as steel is folded into my tongue
By life and time and all the things we never talk about.
My mouth is tinged with metal and my breath is wet with blood.
This, my love, is a battle for fools to partake in.
My tongue is not yet a blade, too dull for cutting.
All I want to be is soft flesh and slick muscle.
I am not holy enough to stomach the taste of blood on the back of my teeth.
I am not a martyr and neither are you.
So I’ll go.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 1:40 AM UTC
Eros:
the days leap as they should,
over serrated blades of grass: brightly,
transcendentally.
i open the voluminous page
of the twilight: it is October bruised
with brindled water.
white is the color of your laughter,
nourishing the noise of heart, crumpled
over the virginal sheet.
in the staring mirror dizzy with life,
shining with a sudden image
in sempiternal fume: both of us,
twining, entering each other
even before the world was complete,
heavy with your hair, lithe with
your embrace, eyes gorged with
naked visions,
hands flayed, full of hours—
i make your ample sea my scarce wave's
anchorage, erasing the twinge
by habit of shores.
i weep: you are filling the world with your own light now drowning the shadows
in the depths of their caves, choking
the silence, wringing out the leafage
of your body's inflorescence.
in vivid decree of your smile, you have
made me the cargo of minutes
rummaging across the dunes of lust:
the tousled sheets,
nearing, coming to me, swarming
soft body: we fell into the hollow of sleep.
Thanatos:
here at the lip of the bed
receiving our smallness, the days—
felled into the night, stilled,
in this finite hour a darker blue
is given; i speak not of love.
how are we alive here?
raining inward, above the brim
of an open window, do you wind-hover?
your voice has escaped the dungeon
of my mouth, and the twining of
our fingers give birth to a forest of specters and a moonless love demanded.
i beat through your harsh curve;
i go tracing your eyebrow
engulfed in the festering fever
of half-light marches and the faint spark
of autumn leaving no tawny scent—
there is only silence peregrinating
in the room before you and after I,
it began to pour in our room,
both of us struck down to mortals
together with a feint recall i cannot parry:
we fell into a bottomless hollow of eyes,
chasing our chained breaths, wordless.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 3:31 AM UTC
"How are you?"
The crispness of your voice, cracking the surface of the perfect silence
It snaps me out of my own thoughts
Eyes focused, smile on; "Fine" I manage
"Good" you ramble and continue on to yourself; I assume since you skipped the pause -
The pause where you debate if I'm telling the truth
I retreat back into my thoughts
Eyes transfixed on that spot in the distance
The one I'll draw to me if I
Just
Keep
Staring
I'm not sure how long I've been gone, but judging by the renewed silence, I've missed my cue
To back up your outrage
Or congradulate your assertiveness
Blah blah blah
"Are you listening?"
The tone a little more inquisitive, eyes a little more searching
Eyes focused, smile on, "Sure" I try
You sigh and wait
I'm happy to let the silence have it's turn to talk
You clear your throat
I sit
"Fine", you lunge- trying to pierce my armor
I parry, not baited
Who has time to be sad?
Why talk about feelings?
What I want, who I miss, how to cope
I smile weakly
"I'm fine"
Change the subject
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Caught red-handed,
You reach for the first thing
Your grubby metacarpus can find,
Be it a sabre or quill.
You ****** and parry away
In your journal,
All in the hopes you might
Besmirch me,
And strike it rich
At the same time.
But like Dido, Queen of Carthage,
Your bags of gold
Contain only sand.
This is your hapless undoing,
Mr. Hamilton,
Despicably so.
Don't use me as a crutch,
Fall on your own sword!
Talk about a fair amount
Of revisionist's history,
But we'll save that for
Another day...
Suffice to say:
History is in the eyes of the beholder.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 4:37 PM UTC
Betrayal
in her eyes
as truth settles in
to watch the show.
I try for calm,
but poison butterflies
grow claws
and rip my words
to shreds.
I parry with Honesty,
taking hits so sudden
my breath has no choice but to retreat,
wondering why Justice played
her Champion
so late.
I couldn't see
what I had destroyed at the time.
Or perhaps
I wouldn't look
Consequence in the eye.
Now
Here it all is.
It stares me down.
I can't watch
the emotions dance
through her mind.
Defeat is imminent
so I accept
the fate of my secrets
because finally
I can see
what I've done.
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
And then she said
It's time for bed
As up the stair she led me
And as time flew
I knew it true
'Twas fate that she should bed me
That bright young girl
With skirts that twirl
Was never meant to parry
And on that day
It's fair to say
I knew that we would marry
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
Four crows, black on cloud,
Dark, sordid wings parry and ******
Murdering white skies.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC