"unimaginatively" poems
_Neither to imagine inarticulately the moon,
Nor to articulate unimaginatively the sun,
But to scan the celestial sphere for sublime inspiration: the poet._
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC
from another side of a window,
a shadow permanently cast:
disinterest licks lips. like i ain't
care to know. as if time were
our great merchant, as if wares
bought ashore were something
more than summarisable.
doubt, crushingly, descends.
the shore-lined, i, sent moral
and virtue on pieces of 'hear',
& a little less say. words
falter; left to hang, unimaginatively,
like candles under the thatched
ceilings of humanity. oh,
how we were led to the water.
taught to breathe. how were we
ever pure? some animal below,
some eternity at fingertrim.
can't believe this freedom,
of sailing above standing
waves. set-out regularities.
wrought up a smile with
alligator teeth. dust's song.
yet another 2:01am.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
Hal drew his sword from it’s long sheath
and faced his nemesis on this dark heath
and fought for life and fought till death
his enemy taking his last foul breath.
Long times this family feud had raged
and in its wake young men had aged
for now the devil would breathe no more
till others rose to settle the score.
Returned he then to his peaceful life
sharing in joy with his new young wife
and she did bear him fine young sons
he hoped his violent past was gone.
But the devil will often find ways back
and thus with time came a new attack
so Hal’s son drew his father’s sword
this ancient duel his family reward.
The feud had lasted for ere so long
kinsfolk recalled it oft in song
of troubles over betrayals done
and deathly duels betwixt each first son.
And then one day Hal’s nemesis fell
and hurt them-self as he could tell
he lowered his sword and approached his foe
removing helmet let long hair flow.
This time it seemed there was no heir
but duty fell to the eldest there
and so the woman had taken up sword
for she too felt her kin’s reward.
But Hal had fallen deep in love
so swore that he’d not raise a glove
and she too felt her heart was won
the betrayal forgotten they were as one.
©Joe Wilson – A son’s tale…
This was just a story set in medieval England
where unimaginatively all first sons are called Hal.
I’ve tried to write it in that kind of style.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
He strew stars skyward
Unimaginatively
He's funny that way
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC