"pius" poems
…These men are worth your tears:
You are not worth their merriment.
-Wilfred Owen, “Apologia Pro Poemate Meo”
When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean? Paradise Lost? Probably not
Nor Saint Paul speaking on the Field of Mars
The Kalevala, Hagia Sophia
With its pendentives lifting up our prayers
Horatius fighting to defend his bridge
And Wilfred Owen dying bravely on his
Lord Tennyson and Idylls of the King
Chapultepec, Henry V, Becket
The paratroops at Arnhem, Saint Thomas More,
His King’s loyal servant, but God’s first
The Stray Dog poets of Saint Petersburg
The brave last stand of Roland at Roncesvalles
Lewis and Tolkien and glasses of beer
Montcalm and Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham
Hildegard von Bingen, Siegfried and the Rhine
Magna Carta, HMS Hood, the Thames
The Grove of Daphne, “The Old Rugged Cross”
Beatrix Potter and her little pet rabbit
El Cid, Anne Frank, John Keats, Saint Benedict
“I Have a Dream,” Dostoyevsky, and Greene
Viktor Frankl, Dag Hammarkskjold, and Proust
Good Chaucer’s naughty pilgrims telling tales
The Gettysburg Address, Willie and Joe
Stern Saint Augustine of North Africa
Wodehouse writing a jolly bit of fun
Saint Corbinian and Bavaria
The ancient glories of Byzantium
Pius XII contra the bombs and lies
The 602nd TD Battalion
Saint Joan, the Prado, and Robert Frost
And far, far more.
When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean?
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
Tender,
Kind hearted maiden,
Wanting to die, dying to live!
Scorched in the abyss of fallen angels,
Star spangled!!
Simplistic treasure,
Lying amongst the feathers,
Where her pillow is made by tears,
Come near!!!
Lavished in garb,
Cloaked by charm,
For men are your downfall,
Foreign dream, ancient queen
Of after hours channels!!
Media shall ban you,
Pull through uncurrupt,
Maker of bluff,
And rainbow intuition!!
Pius of stitches!!
Memorandum you are,
As courthouse judges will shun you,
Glutton movies punish you,
As you were not made for this world!!!
Lost treasure, lost pearl!!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
#1.....His Bearer's Plea.
What would it cost to send a million dogs to war,
Than turn my babes into raging Beasts?
Leave the Boys to grow and revel in age.
Leave them strapped to their mothers *****
until nature run's its course and calls them MEN.
Without guns,rage and War pivoting that stage.
Too many broken Boys parole as Men,
building bridges without appeasing the gods below.
Too many hold life at its helm,
boasting of nothing to risk or gain,
Inflicting Pain to ease their pains.
Too many were sucklings before Wars came,
cruelly snatching them from their mothers breast....
handing them guns when milk was what they needed.
#2...His Lover's Plea
What price COULD I have paid to save my lover's head from being Twisted with tales of war?
the man I once knew now resides in a realm of obscurity
dodging reality, dreading emotions, refusing one ness.
A man with hands now Cold,
my skin forgets the prowess they possessed in the past,
a gloomy present looms.
the man whose weaning I continued, now bites hard till my ******* bleed, the taste of blood he now savours.
Cries of war creased the tenderness off my lovers tongue.
What did i owe the earth to be robbed this way?
What kind of man will my children call father?
Well....What will it cost to send a million dogs to war,than deny our babes the privilege to wean until nature calls them MEN?
©Comfort Amiso Pius
2018-08-29
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Well of life, oh well of life!!! Spring me thy vibrant blamelessness,
For am I amyss? Wishful to Pius beliefs? That theres a queen, not a thief?
Staring at her screen as me!!!
Consternation in unbelief?
Gathering her end day fears!!!
Shall she pike near?
And hitchike mine hazy distortion?
With our love would be proportion,
No distortionary tyrant to ourn view!!!
Sleeping silently in our room,
Being as just small wombs!!!
Acquisitive and itchy to our next step!!!!
For tis this I have wept,
Thinking over and over,
For wheres thine four leaf clover,
For mine good Irish luck?
Trapped in the ducts of civilation lost?
For what's thy cost old globed ball see'r?
A pound or a ruby?
A million in cash?
Or cheap movie?
For I'd give you mine all to basque in ones appearance,
A PRI maddona I strive in all
Contrivance.....
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
We sang a dirge
But no tears to bid farewell.
We dug a grave
But no place to place a casket.
We erected a cenotaph
But no place to lay a wreath.
Sorrow clapped with one hand.
Rays of tragedy raced with one leg
To unlock the gate of tomb.
Town Crier's gong rendered
sounds of sadness
To inform the confounded cenacle.
Will your pen still pen a farewell?
Will your ink speaks for itself?
Will the diarists still hear your voice?
You slumber till eternity.
But you will not die again.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 8:45 AM UTC
Laughter gone wearily
but memory of its sound makes us laugh from the deeper lane! We continually share the sweet sounds of a laughter deposits from a true soul.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 3:05 AM UTC
Some things find a way to exist in isolation
But i chose the the Comfort of your kisses.
It almost makes sense,
At least that's what I tell me,
Reassuring my being that you exist
That your kisses exist.
Blind? No.
Maybe stupid? Kinda.
You exist,I know you breath..I've felt you
I Love you..
And I fail to see how senseless that is.
You make sense to me
Even though your kisses only rain in my Dreams.
©amiso_pius
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
If my eyes were to be lenses for Photography, they'd only Exist in Monochrome.
I guess that's how it was meant to be.
Me,viewing the World in only Black and White.
Grey sometimes may creep in,offering a third option.
Other than that, it'll just be me and my eyes seeing the World in a more Sombre State.
©amiso_pius
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC