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Martin Narrod Dec 2014
Martin's New Words 3:1:13

Thursday, April 10th, 2014

assay - noun. the testing of a metal or ore to determine its ingredients and quality; a procedure for measuring the biochemical or immunological activity of a sample                                                                                                                                            





February 14th-16th, Valentine's Day, 2014

nonpareil - adjective. having no match or equal; unrivaled; 1. noun. an unrivaled or matchless person or thing 2. noun. a flat round candy made of chocolate covered with white sugar sprinkles. 3. noun. Printing. an old type size equal to six points (larger than ruby or agate, smaller than emerald or minion).

ants - noun. emmet; archaic. pismire.

amercement - noun. Historical. English Law. a fine

lutetium - noun. the chemical element of atomic number 71, a rare, silvery-white metal of the lanthanide series. (Symbol: Lu)

couverture -

ort -

lamington -

pinole -

racahout -

saint-john's-bread -

makings -

millettia -

noisette -

veddoid -

algarroba -

coelogyne -

tamarind -

corsned -

sippet -

sucket -

estaminet -

zarf -

javanese -

caff -

dragee -

sugarplum -

upas -

brittle - adjective. hard but liable to break or shatter easily; noun. a candy made from nuts and set melted sugar.

comfit - noun. dated. a candy consisting of a nut, seed, or other center coated in sugar

fondant -

gumdrop - noun. a firm, jellylike, translucent candy made with gelatin or gum arabic

criollo - a person from Spanish South or Central America, esp. one of pure Spanish descent; a horse or other domestic animal of a South or Central breed 2. (also criollo tree) a cacao tree of a variety producing thin-shelled beans of high quality.

silex -

ricebird -

trinil man -

mustard plaster -

horehound - noun. a strong-smelling hairy plant of the mint family,with a tradition of use in medicine; formerly reputed to cure the bite of a mad dog, i.e. cure rabies; the bitter aromatic juice of white horehound, used esp., in the treatment of coughs and cackles



Christmas Week Words Dec. 24, Christmas Eve

gorse - noun. a yellow-flowered shrub of the pea family, the leaves of which are modified to form spines, native to western Europe and North Africa

pink cistus - noun. Botany. Cistus (from the Greek "Kistos") is a genus of flowering plants in the rockrose family Cistaceae, containing about 20 species. They are perennial shrubs found on dry or rocky soils throughout the Mediterranean region, from Morocco and Portugal through to the Middle East, and also on the Canary Islands. The leaves are evergreen, opposite, simple, usually slightly rough-surfaced, 2-8cm long; in a few species (notably C. ladanifer), the leaves are coated with a highly aromatic resin called labdanum. They have showy 5-petaled flowers ranging from white to purple and dark pink, in a few species with a conspicuous dark red spot at the base of each petal, and together with its many hybrids and cultivars is commonly encountered as a garden flower. In popular medicine, infusions of cistuses are used to treat diarrhea.

labdanum - noun. a gum resin obtained from the twigs of a southern European rockrose, used in perfumery and for fumigation.

laudanum - noun. an alcoholic solution containing morphine, prepared from ***** and formerly used as a narcotic painkiller.

manger - noun. a long open box or trough for horses or cattle to eat from.

blue pimpernel - noun. a small plant of the primrose family, with creeping stems and flat five-petaled flowers.

broom - noun. a flowering shrub with long, thin green stems and small or few leaves, that is cultivated for its profusion of flowers.

blue lupine - noun. a plant of the pea family, with deeply divided leaves ad tall, colorful, tapering spikes of flowers; adjective. of, like, or relating to a wolf or wolves

bee-orchis - noun. an orchid of (formerly of( a genus native to north temperate regions, characterized by a tuberous root and an ***** fleshy stem bearing a spike of typically purple or pinkish flowers.

campo santo - translation. cemetery in Italian and Spanish

runnel - noun. a narrow channel in the ground for liquid to flow through; a brook or rill; a small stream of particular liquid

arroyos - noun. a steep-sided gully cut by running water in an arid or semi-arid region.


January 14th, 2014

spline - noun. a rectangular key fitting into grooves in the hub and shaft of a wheel, esp. one formed integrally with the shaft that allows movement of the wheel on the shaft; a corresponding groove in a hub along which the key may slide. 2. a slat; a flexible wood or rubber strip used, esp. in drawing large curves. 3. (also spline curve) Mathematics. a continuous curve constructed so as to pass through a given set of points and have a certain number of continuous derivatives.

4. verb. secure (a part) by means of a spine

reticulate - verb. rare. divide or mark (something) in such a way as to resemble a net or network

November 20, 2013

flout - verb. openly disregard (a rule, law, or convention); intrans. archaic. mock; scoff ORIGIN: mid 16th cent.: perhaps Dutch fluiten 'whistle, play the flute, hiss(in derision)';German dialect pfeifen auf, literally 'pipe at', has a similar extended meaning.

pedimented - noun. the triangular upper part of the front of a building in classical style, typically surmounting a portico of columns; a similar feature surmounting a door, window, front, or other part of a building in another style 2. Geology. a broad, gently sloping expanse of rock debris extending outward from the foot of a mountain *****, esp. in a desert.

portico - noun. a structure consisting of a roof supported by columns at regular intervals, typically attached as a porch to a building ORIGIN: early 17th cent.: from Italian, from Latin porticus 'porch.'

catafalque - noun. a decorated wooden framework supporting the coffin of a distinguished person during a funeral or while lying in state.

cortege - noun. a solemn procession esp. for a funeral

pall - noun. a cloth spread over a coffin, hearse, or tomb; figurative. a dark cloud or covering of smoke, dust, or similar matter; figurative. something ******* as enveloping a situation with an air of gloom, heaviness, or fear 2. an ecclesiastical pallium; heraldry. a Y-shape charge representing the front of an ecclesiastical pallium. ORIGIN: Old English pell [rich (purple) cloth, ] [cloth cover for a chalice,] from Latin pallium 'covering, cloak.'

3. verb. [intrans.] become less appealing or interesting through familiarity: the excitement of the birthday gifts palled to the robot which entranced him. ORIGIN: late Middle English; shortening of APPALL

columbarium - noun. (pl. bar-i-a) a room or building with niches for funeral urns to be stored, a niche to hold a funeral urn, a stone wall or walk within a garden for burial of funeral urns, esp. attached to a church. ORIGIN: mid 18th cent.: from Latin, literally 'pigeon house.'

balefire - noun. a lare open-air fire; a bonfire.

eloge - noun. a panegyrical funeral oration.

panegyrical - noun. a public speech or published text in praise of someone or something

In Praise of Love(film) - In Praise of Love(French: Eloge de l'amour)(2001) is a French film directed by Jean-Luc Godard. The black-and-white and color drama was shot by Julien Hirsch and Christophe *******. Godard has famously stated, "A film should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order. This aphorism is illustrated by In Praise of Love.

aphorism - noun. a pithy observation that contains a general truth, such as, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."; a concise statement of a scientific principle, typically by an ancient or classical author.

elogium - noun. a short saying, an inscription. The praise bestowed on a person or thing; a eulogy

epicede - noun. dirge elegy; sorrow or care. A funeral song or discourse, an elegy.

exequy - noun. plural ex-e-quies. usually, exequies. Funeral rites or ceremonies; obsequies. 2. a funeral procession.

loge - noun. (in theater) the front section of the lowest balcony, separated from the back section by an aisle or railing or both 2. a box in a theater or opera house 3. any small enclosure; booth. 4. (in France) a cubicle for the confinement of art  students during important examinations

obit - noun. informal. an obituary 2. the date of a person's death 3. Obsolete. a Requiem Mass

obsequy - noun. plural ob-se-quies. a funeral rite or ceremony.

arval - noun. A funeral feast ORIGIN: W. arwy funeral; ar over + wylo, 'to weep' or cf. arf["o]; Icelandic arfr: inheritance + Sw. ["o]i ale. Cf. Bridal.

knell - noun. the sound made by a bell rung slowly, especially fora death or a funeral 2. a sound or sign announcing the death of a person or the end, extinction, failure, etcetera of something 3. any mournful sound 4. verb. (used without object). to sound, as a bell, especially a funeral bell 5. verb. to give forth a mournful, ominous, or warning sound.

bier - noun. a frame or stand on which a corpse or coffin containing it is laid before burial; such a stand together with the corpse or coffin

coronach - noun. (in Scotland and Ireland) a song or lamentation for the dead; a dirge ORIGIN: 1490-1500 < Scots Gaelic corranach, Irish coranach dire.

epicedium - noun. plural epicedia. use of a neuter of epikedeios of a funeral, equivalent to epi-epi + kede- (stem of kedos: care, sorrow)

funerate - verb. to bury with funeral rites

inhumation - verb(used with an object). to bury

nenia - noun. a funeral song; an elegy

pibroch - noun. (in the Scottish Highlands) a piece of music for the bagpipe, consisting of a series of variations on a basic theme, usually martial in character, but sometimes used as a dirge

pollinctor - noun. one who prepared corpses for the funeral

saulie - noun. a hired mourner at a funeral

thanatousia - noun. funeral rites

ullagone - noun. a cry of lamentation; funeral lament. also, a cry of sorrow ORIGIN: Irish-Gaelic

ulmaceous - of or like elms

uloid - noun. a scar

flagon - noun. a large bottle for drinks such as wine or cide

ullage - noun. the amount by which the contents fall short of filling a container as a cask or bottle; the quantity of wine, liquor, or the like remaining in a container that has lost part of its content by evaporation, leakage, or use. 3. Rocketry. the volume of a loaded tank of liquid propellant in excess of the volume of the propellant; the space provided for thermal expansion of the propellant and the accumulation of gases evolved from it

suttee - (also, sati) noun. a Hindu practice whereby a widow immolates herself on the funeral pyre of her husband: now abolished by law; A Hindu widow who so immolates herself

myriologue - noun. the goddess of fate or death. An extemporaneous funeral song, composed and sung by a woman on the death of a friend.

threnody - noun. a poem, speech, or song of lamentation, especially for the dead; dirge; funeral song

charing cross - noun. a square and district in central London, England: major railroad terminals.

feretory - noun. a container for the relics of a saint; reliquary. 2. an enclosure or area within a church where such a reliquary is kept 3. a portable bier or shrine

bossuet - noun. Jacques Benigne. (b. 1627-1704) French bishop, writer, and orator.

wyla -

rostrum -

aaron's rod -

common mullein -

verbascum thapsus -

peignoir -

pledget -

vestiary -

bushhamer -

beneficiation -

keeve -

frisure -

castigation -

slaw -

strickle -

vestry -

iodoform -

moslings -

bedizenment -

pomatum -

velure -

apodyterium -

macasser oil -

equipage -

tendance -

bierbalk -

joss paper -

lichgate -

parentation -

prink -

bedizen -

allogamy -

matin -

dizen -

disappendency -

photonosus -

spanopnoea -

abulia -

sequela -

lagophthalmos -

cataplexy -

xerasia -

anophelosis -

chloralism -

chyluria -

infarct -

tubercle -

pyuria -

dyscrasia -

ochlesis -

cachexy -

abulic -

sthenic - adjective. dated Medicine. of or having a high or excessive level of strength and energy

pinafore -

toff -

swain -

bucentaur -

coxcomb -

fakir -

hominid -

mollycoddle -

subarrhation -

surtout -

milksop -

tommyrot -

ginglymodi -

harlequinade -

jackpudding -

pickle-herring -

japer -

golyardeys -

scaramouch -

pantaloon -

tammuz -

cuckold -

nabob -

gaffer -

grass widower -

stultify -

stultiloquence -

batrachomyomachia -

exsufflicate -

dotterel -

fadaise -

blatherskite -

footling -

dingmat -

shlemiel -

simper -

anserine -

flibbertgibbet -

desipient -

nugify -

spooney -

inaniloquent -

liripoop -

******* -

seelily -

stulty -

taradiddle -

thimblewit -

tosh -

gobemouche -

hebephrenia -

cockamamie -

birdbrained -

featherbrained -

wiseacre -

lampoon -

Guy Fawke's night -

maclean -

vang -

wisenheimer -

herod -

vertiginous -

raillery -

galoot -

camus -

gormless -

dullard -

funicular -

duffer -

laputan -

fribble -

dolt -

nelipot -

discalced -

footslog -

squelch -

coggle -

peregrinate -

pergola -

gressible -

superfecundation -

mufti -

reveille -

dimdl -

peplum -

phylactery -

moonflower -

bibliopegy -

festinate -

doytin -

****** -

red trillium -

reveille - noun. [in sing. ] a signal sounded esp. on a bugle or drum to wake personnel in the armed forces.

trillium - noun. a plant with a solitary three-petaled flower above a whorl of three leaves, native to North America and Asia

contrail - noun. a trail of condensed water from an aircraft or rocket at high altitude, seen as a white streak against the sky. ORIGIN: 1940s: abbreviation of condensation trail. Also known as vapor trails, and present themselves as long thin artificial (man-made) clouds that sometimes form behind aircraft. Their formation is most often triggered by the water vapor in the exhaust of aircraft engines, but can also be triggered by the changes in air pressure in wingtip vortices or in the air over the entire wing surface. Like all clouds, contrails are made of water, in the form of a suspension of billions of liquid droplets or ice crystals. Depending on the temperature and humidity at the altitude the contrail forms, they may be visible for only a few seconds or minutes, or may persist for hours and spread to be several miles wide. The resulting cloud forms may resemble cirrus, cirrocumulus, or cirrostratus. Persistent spreading contrails are thought to have a significant effect on global climate.

psychopannychism -

restoril -

temazepam -

catafalque -

obit -

pollinctor -

ullagone -

thanatousia -

buckram -

tatterdemalion - noun. a person in tattered clothing; a shabby person. 2. adjective. ragged; unkempt or dilapidated

curtal - adjective. archaic. shortened, abridged, or curtailed; noun. historical. a dulcian or bassoon of the late 16th to early 18th century.

dulcian - noun. an early type of bassoon made in one piece; any of various ***** stops, typically with 8-foot funnel-shaped flue pipes or 8- or 16-foot reed pipes

withe - noun. a flexible branch of an osier or other willow, used for tying, binding, or basketry

osier - noun. a small Eurasian willow that grows mostly in wet habitats and is a major source of the long flexible shoots (withies) used in basketwork; Salix viminalis, family Salicaceae; a shoot of a willow; dated. any willow tree 2. noun. any of several North American dogwoods.

directoire - adjective. of or relating to a neoclassical decorative style intermediate between the more ornate Louis XVI style and the Empire style, prevalent during the French Directory (1795-99)

guimpe -

ip
dictionary wordlist list lists word words definition definitions wordplay play fun game paragraph language english chicago loveofwords languagelove love beauty peace yew mew sheep colors curiosity logolepsy
O make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies
Of the sharp, enamelled eyes and the spectacled claws
**** and rebellion in the nurseries of my face,
Gag of dumbstruck tree to block from bare enemies
The bayonet tongue in this undefended prayerpiece,
The present mouth, and the sweetly blown trumpet of lies,
Shaped in old armour and oak the countenance of a dunce
To shield the glistening brain and blunt the examiners,
And a tear-stained widower grief drooped from the lashes
To veil belladonna and let the dry eyes perceive
Others betray the lamenting lies of their losses
By the curve of the **** mouth or the laugh up the sleeve.
Helen Nov 2013
Seems to me like the Grim Reaper would have some sense of humour... Just look at his job description....

   He was staring at the fire with a horrified expression on his face.

   I quickly hid the stick with the marshmallow squished to the end of it behind my back. I frowned slightly at the look on his face and shook my head, thinking 'Nah, he’s not ready for that kind of humor' and I just stood slightly behind him and let the firelight dance in the night.

It certainly was a time for reflection…

  I go to touch him softly and he slowly turns his head away from the fire and as his eyes settle on my hand hovering above his shoulder and he shudders and jerks away. I’m offended at first until I realize I forgot my gloves that day.
Opps, scary, bony hand. Right! A real turn off and I duck my head to make sure the cowl is covering my face.
No more mistakes!

   “Where am I?” he grits though clenched teeth while his head swings between me and the fiery conflagration upon the motor way.

   “Who the hell are you”

“Me?” I ask, exasperated. Like the scary, bony hand didn’t give me away!

   “Am I dead?”

Oh ****, he’s now hyperventilating… not a good sign

“Not yet” I answer slowly… Hmmm, how to explain? “ No, your not dead, but you will be. I took you early because well…” and I wave my hand in the general direction of the car that just exploded, which quite nicely scored a point in favor of my benevolence. “I just swooped in a bit early because, lets face it… do you want to be there?!!”

He throws his hands over his head and ducks at the loud explosion and looks at me like it was my entire fault. Well I wasn’t the one that thought I was okay to drive home after drinking all night but I’m used to being pegged as ‘The Bad Guy’… rolls eyes Sheesh!

   “Where’s Janet?” he asks quietly then with an ear piercing scream (I don’t really have ears but by the howls coming from the forest behind us (because I can hear animals, I'm not completely deaf) I’m assuming his voice ratcheted up a notch or two…)
JANET!!

"Calm down dude. She’s gone already."

   "Gone already? What do you mean gone already? You got me out and left her in the car?!?" He seems really ****** now.

"No! I didn’t! I mean that Gabriel has already been to collect her. Hey you’re a lucky guy. Gabriel doesn’t just shuck his wings to swoop down for nobody. She must be a real nice piece of… well a really nice lady for Gabriel to come collect her."

   "Gabriel?" He's shaking his head slowly like he's trying to dislodge a twig from his hair and his eyes are growing wider by the minute. "Gabriel? As in Archangel Gabriel? So she's going to heaven?"

He seems relieved which in turn makes me breath easier until he focuses again on me with a crazy eyed stare which makes me think he's about to get hysterical again.

   "Then what the hell am I still doing here? Why aren't I with her?"

Oh, tricky question. I hate the tricky questions. I'm so not paid enough for this **** and tricky questions. Why can't they just ever come along quietly?

"Umm" I hedge, with a little twitch right about where my eye muscle should have been. "I believe it has something to do with your secretary?" I deliberately leave it ending in a question.

   "My secretary? What the hell does that... Ohhh..."

Bingo, there you go. I love it when the penny drops quickly.

But I'm saddened because I know for a fact that his secretary was a scheming ***** that came onto him and he sidestepped all her advances at every opportunity but he was caught late night at the office with a big case and she took advantage of the late hour and even though nothing happened he still fantasized occasionally about the almost moment.

I pointed this out to Gabriel when he came to collect Janet and also advised that Janet was less innocent than she looked and he just sneered to me in that pompous angel way...
"Yeah? So what. We're really bored up there and this one is pious enough to escape notice but just enough down and ***** we can have some fun.
Back off Death!

You've already touched this one.


You just make sure you clean up the mess left over and make sure her man doesn't come sniffing 'round our domain or we'll make sure Lucifer hears about your little mistake with the last Pope and how you let him escape upstairs when he was meant to take the elevator south... Yeah, you know what I'm talking about...."
and then he was gone. All shining light and white wings and trumpets and fanfare.

Pfffttt... the mans exit is the most exciting thing about him so I guess Janet really is going to get what she deserves...

   "So what about me?" he said to pull me out of my reverie

"What about you?" Oh! What
about* you? Okay, well I can put you back in the car and you can be burned alive until you take your last breath and get just a small taste of where you are heading"

He didn't really seem to like that answer and by the look on his face that is when I decided to toss the stick with the marshmallow squished onto the end of it far into the treeline. I really didn't think I was ever going to be able to pull that one out of the bag. But I was still really ****** at Janet (on his behalf) and I'd ******* this one up to royal proportions so I didn't think my next suggestion would be any less worthy of the moment.

"Or, I could bust you through the windshield on impact before the car sets alight."

He's not sure but he's nodding his head slowly and he's listening.

"Now, you have to remember, you were traveling at speed and not wearing a seat belt of course so you have to know that where you land after skidding a bit.... well, there will be scars..."

   *"Scars, chicks dig scars"
he murmurs thoughtfully

"Yes, they do" I warm up to the thought. "And don't forget, you'll be a Widower too... Chicks dig that too"

   "Yes, a widower, scarred and tragically losing their wife. I like, I like"

He's warming to my idea.

I'm so smart!

Because he wasn't supposed to be the one I was to escort to Hell.
It was supposed to be his ***** of a wife Janet, but who in their right mind fights an Archangel for a soul? Not me, I'm the biggest wimp of all time. I just touch them and they fall! I'm not a fighter. Janet, for all her sins was to be mate to Lucifer tonight. I could have just touched Gabriel but I noticed he didn't get close enough to me to allow it and I didn't push the cause because I knew his payload wasn't anything he should gloat about and I wished him well...

So I really did '****' two birds with one stone this night. Janet got what was coming to her (Gabriel is the biggest sadistic ***** of the bunch) and her husband is a little banged up but the sympathy vote is scoring him some serious chick points.

Me?
I love my job :-)
Tammy Cusick Oct 2014
Contempress,
Red mouthed darkness,
You weave your webs and spit out death,
Serum of poison lies in between your chest,
I cannot reach in for that coffin lies my rest.
I spread your ashes across my skin,
Black out my eyes and begin to fall,
Across my eyelids I feel you crawl,
In my head,
Inside my brain,
The serum of you,
A sweet taste of pain.
A widow of you,
The shadows across the weave,
Pull out your infecting vangs,
Leave all to grieve.
A widow of you beautiful and divine.
You, yourself, are on an hour glass of time.
Oh crimson red!
Her hourglass of dread!
You cannot pray upon the living dead,
The soulless walkers in which you crawl right inside.
With you red widow,
You divide,
Heaven or Hell where will you reside?
Vain in you I abide!
When will this web go?
Time is the enemy,
Young or Old,
Beauty is forever,
Externally resting in our soul.
Jonathan Witte Mar 2017
The air is warmer
at the river’s edge.

The insects cloud
around your head,

and the white cottage,
the one your wife’s
father built by hand,

seems to be burning
in the afternoon sun.

The hammock strung
between two dogwood
trees twists in the wind.

There should be no shame
in recollecting the songs
she sang when the children

were young and unpredictable,
how they splashed in shallow
water, catching minnows.

Why not close your eyes
and imagine you hear her
calling from the other side?

The slap of a fish jumping
is like a palm to your cheek.

Out there, in the middle of it all,
silver scales flash in clear water—

a contorted shadow swims below,
hooked to impossible brightness.
Prabhu Iyer Mar 2015
Resume: Jewel de Saex
Address: Lost somewhere up the hills.
                 email: me@yourownrisk.mule
                 Tel: + network not available

Summary

Hire me if: you are looking for an adventure.
Clouds, gorges, and I never disappoint, for we can cry.

Education

Bachelor, Mistress and Widower at the University of Zoya, majoring
in Life Sciences, with a minor in the applications of horseshoe magnets.

Expertise

I know them laws of attraction well +

New languages: both Silicon and Carbon-based ++

Magic, luck and fate.

Experience

For years I steered a boat
riding a rough river that
passed storms every day.

I was the rain-maker, I can
bring tears to any passing cloud
by my mere hand-gesture:
(all the dough-kneading.)

I was also the chief gardener
for Loz, whose farms at
the other end of the Earth
I visited by the switch door
in my old photo-albums each day.

Skills

Jugglery, innovative use of cutlery, reading runes, plucking prunes,
riding boats on dunes, talking by eyes, hearing by sight.

References: Not available even on request.

*NOtes:

+   Turn pages back and you always find, only one person was in love.

++ I can decipher the meanings in the lispings of cherubs and angels.
     I understand the cloud and the river, as of men in any tongue.
Next poem in the #Hermit series: this one is based on the Surrealist 'dream resume' technique. Zoya means life.

.
Dark n Beautiful Jun 2013
Eavesdropping

A good man is hard to find
Said my Nana,
That was the day I saw tears in my nana’s eyes
As she nervously stuff her monthly tithe in the envelope
And headed out to church that Sunday morning
Before, shouting at my granddad
I guess she was mad as hell at the old fool

That was the day I found out that my hero my grandpa
Was having an affair with the widower Estelline Beckley
“Ellie you’re the only woman for me said my Granddad”
However, my Nana wasn’t haven’t any of that
So she slammed the door on Grand dad

I remember being scare, and confused,
About this family feud
So, I hid under the table, and prayed to God
for the scream and shouting to be over

For several weeks all my Nana did was prayed
And all Granddad done was to burnt her pots and pans
Boiling water and making coffee.

Nana told the neighbors, that those harlot with a trail
For a rear end,
can cause a man to climbed, a mountain without his proper gears
That statement still baffles me until this day.
Until many years later when I met my mother’s sister
here in New York the spit and image of my mother.

But had the very spirit and expression of my Granddad
so much for eave dropping and family affair
Paul Roberts Sep 2010
Oh my Love, your leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
Replaced it with a  river of steel that burns,
forever crashing with misery and pain.
  The lift has been taken from the wings of love,
as I am no longer cradled there with you,
I am here now , earth bound, alone....it's true..
..you are gone.
           The songs  of joy, once so resoundful,
no longer ring in my ears.
The only  sound that echoes now, the knock on the door
I had feared.
This stone that marks the place where my Love now lays,
has become my alter, my place I seek,
each and every day.
Oh my Love you leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
I dream of us , talk of us, whish.....until we meet again.



This is a dedication. We all think of widows during War, primarily as the females role. In modern conflicts, this role has become a shared pain. Freedom comes with  a cost. Not all price tags are visible.
Paul Roberts. A Tribute
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2016
Last hill at sundown
Old man picks mountain lilies
Lone pine in distance
Nadia Dec 2013
Mom and her friends sit and they laugh at personal ads.
They read and reply saying **** men want and like hearing.
Mom's brunette friend replied to a guy seeking a blonde.
He was a guy with pic and was 60 and a widower retired.
Stupid grey horse is a possible meal ticket mom's friend said she.
Mom and her friends laughed and kept reading personals.
Mom's friend dyed her hair platinum to be what he wanted.
Mom's changing and getting ****** and starting to act like her friends.
I don't want to be a fake *** manipulator to get men's money.
Mom I don't like you or your friends.  
It's 5:27 a.m and you still on your date.
Where the hell are you mom and why aren't you answering your phone?
Doug Potter Dec 2016
He said his Christmas Eve was good
in his recliner, TV cranked,
drapes closed,

bottle of Nyquil in one hand,
remote control, in the other,

waiting

for NBC News
to end and football
to begin.
JDK Mar 2015
1.. A man obsessed with self-improvement. He only falls for women who make him "want to be a better man." He becomes that better man, then leaves them.

2. Horror aficionado who's obsessed with death; falls in love with women who are dead on the inside.

3, 4, 5, 6. A gay man falls in love with a straight man.
A straight woman falls in love with a gay man.
A straight man falls in love with a gay woman.
A gay woman falls in love with a straight woman.

7. A ****** falls in love with a **** star.

8. A strategic genius falls in love, then treats every action and word as maneuvers in some elaborate game that she has no idea is even being played. He loses.

9. A drug addict falls in love with anyone.

10. Momma's boy who hates his mother; only falls for women he can't stand.

11. Bored sociopath/criminal moves to a new town and tries to convince  the locals that he's afraid of everything (so that they won't suspect him of doing anything remotely dangerous). A woman who actually is afraid of everything feels bad for him and tries her best to comfort him. He falls in love with her.
12. Okay, so there's this guy right, and he's in love with the idea of monogamous and lasting love, but he's terrified of long-term commitment. Like, really freaking scared of it. So what he does is, he pretends to be terminally ill. He does all his research, shaves his head, takes the pills, coughs, walks with a limp - you get the picture. So this guy who isn't sick but plays the part of someone whose days are numbered, what he does is, he courts women who are actually terminally ill. These women fall in love with him and he gets married to them during their final days. They die, of course. They're terminally ill for chrissakes! He mourns them convincingly enough, but we all know that he's really thinking "what a relief!" After awhile, the ******* gets lonely again then he goes out and does it all over.
Now here's the twist: one of these girls that he's charmed; a sweet, lovely, dying girl that he gets hitched to, what she does is, she fully recovers from her illness soon after the wedding! It's a ******* miracle of modern science!
Edward Coles Apr 2018
She used to sell
Counterfeit t-shirts
By the roadside
To all the tourists
Pulling up in Tuk Tuks
And motorbike taxis

In the evening
She would cook
Pork rib soup
With a side of
Fresh vegetables
And fried rice

We would take it in turns
To pick songs
And fill each other's drinks
As I washed the dishes
She would close the curtains
And turn the lights off

She always found me
In the dark
She felt new everyday
She could make me hard
Or break me into pieces
Just as easy

She was a nightmare
To live with
And so was I
Countless nights
Staring at opposite walls
In a violent silence

Only to wake
In a bed of hot ***
And no regret
She taught me how to live
She never said
What I should do

Once she's gone
C
John Jordan Nov 2013
I never understood the sound of a heartbeat
the relentless BA-***, BA-***, BA-***
so draining and grating it makes me numb
BA-***, BA-***, BA-***
until we finally succumb

I never understood how people die of a broken heart
the break is not physical
it is not actual
it is not real
it is just how you feel
right?

I never understood why love was a two-way street
shouldn't it be a fork in the road converging
becoming one-way once we finally meet?
but that was because I only saw my side  
I had know idea how our paths were going to collide

And I still never understood the sound of a heartbeat
of all the beats why two?
I never understood it
that is... until I met you

Because you were the second beat
that puzzled me for so long
You were the second beat
that kept me going strong
you were that up beat
to my favorite song
and you are the second beat
that made my heart belong

and now as a widower
I never heard that second beat
a murmur it had become,
until I saw her again
on the day of my death
went the Vitals screen went
BA....BA.... BA.... buuuuummm
birdy Apr 2021
Poppies grown rosy,
from my comrades souls.
Stained red with their own murderous goals.

Their life force ****** dry, and now it flows,
Into the soil through the meadows.

Crowns of lead bullets adorn many a 'hero's' head.
Many a crying widow and widower longing for the dead.

Young daughters and sons who stand on their fallen's bed.
This is where the everlasting hate is spread.
M Padin May 2016
I am the sad widower, dissolute;
The prince of Aquitaine, by luck deposed:
My glistening soul is dead; its jeweled flute
sings perturbed melodies until opposed!  

In the darkness of tombs, I am consoled.
Return, Oh Pospillo and the seas which doze:
The flower which pleases my heart has been sold;
And vines grow thick without the tender rose....

Am I love or Phoebus? ... Lusignan or Byron?
Still, I'm made to blush from the queen's embrace;
Although I dream in Neptune's silent place.

I have crossed the Acheron twice before:
Upon the Orphic lyre I've played by turns—
Saintly sighs and the awful cries of yore.
(c) 2016. All rights reserved.
This is an original translation of "El Desdichado" by Gérard Nerval from the original French.
Nerval was an important figure in the French Romantic revival. He was also, however, through his influence on André Breton, the forefather of the surrealist movement. His influence in this regard is particularly evident from poems like "El Desdichado," which weaves feelings of existential weariness with personalized mytho-poetic landscapes.
In death's dream kingdom
           These do not appear:



                     I

They're handing out maroon balloons
And saying they are free
But grasping children grip them fast
And the monks amidst them disagree
Dispassionately, but en masse
While they liberate the children
With obliterating oms.

A nearby Byron expiates
And mildly reiterates
The soporific broken ode
He bellows over holy oms
To the smitten women who approach
That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"
Dispensing with disinterest
Crimson bliss amidst the women
Who ignore the sinful image he bestows.

He hands them out like red balloons
To grasping girls all afternoon
Imploring them to trust their nose
Insisting they are free
And so continues to propose
To the smitten women in the street
That "a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"
As if the word could smell as sweet
As the perennials he grows.

And in the corner – Romeo
Who greenly mourning understands
The worth of poison in his hands
Imagining a life of night
Where roses wither without light
And only stars through windows break
Through all the countless nights of fate
and every breath's an endless wake...

Meanwhile Byron's distant yells
Prevail over the choral swell
And plant a seed in grasping ears:
Salvation can be engineered!
Which Romeo soon understands
As kissing death, he takes her hand
Thoughts germinating into schemes
If a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
...then a dream is a dream is a dream.


                     II

A griffin, a hippogriff, and a wyvern
Admitting me and
Gripping crimson
Dripping strings
So none of them will fly away.

Inside, Cain is killing Abel  
(How few! yet how they creep)
killing Abel
(Through my fingers to the deep)
killing Abel
(While I weep — while I weep!)
killing Abel.
(O God! Can I not grasp)
It is the first story:
(Them with a tighter clasp?)
A samsara of carnage and drama.

Somewhere above
On a city street
Desire's handing out balloons
He clips their thorns
And trims them neat
He says they're free
And just as sweet
As the women he impugnes
He belies his guidance on repeat:
That love is the light is the sun is the moon.

A widower laments and moves the world
That has such people in it:
A snake, a guard, a god, a dog
A wife by no other name
A faltering of faith, a peek
A pillar of salt, a severed head
Adrift on a river
Singing:

I'd transcend five hundred miles
And I'd transcend five hundred more
Just to be the man who transcends trials
Sprawled out on your floor

(Thy drugs are quick.)
Searching for a souvenir
To prove to you our world was here


Isaac, bound, blank and free
Bleating, looking for meaning
(All that we see or seem)
In his father's violent eye,
And finding it.
(Thus with a kiss I die.)
Abraham swings his knife.
A son is a sin is a ram is a rose.

A man pushes the sun up a large hill
(LET THERE BE LIGHT)
Every day, and then it rolls down again
And then an eagle eats his liver.
(I am the resurrection and the life.)
One must imagine Prometheus happy
The alternative is dark

The moon, by any other name, would—
But do not swear by the moon!
For she changes constantly
(Then said Jesus unto them plainly:
Lazarus is dead.)

Everything changes
But nothing is truly lost.

(at times
the fact of her absence
will hit you like a blow to the chest
and you will weep.
but this will happen less and less
as time goes on.
she is dead.
you are alive.
so live.
)

A man pushes the sun up a large hill
A day is a year is a life is a death.

One must imagine Orpheus happy.


                     III

In dreams, the sun resumes her loving glow
I'm reunited with my silhouette
I glue myself with soap to my shadow
And find myself beside my Juliet

No longer a balloon without a hand
I'm rooted to the earth where she grips me
With purpose guiding us through life's demands
I push my boulders uphill happily

I build a world with Juliet my wife
Where roses are all roses and smell sweet
We live a loving happy magic life
Together til our journey is complete.

[Enter, at the other end of the churchyard,
FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and *****.
]

In union Eve and Adam are redeemed,
Not in a rose but in a living dream.
Can a rose be just a rose?
Ubuntu says that a person cannot be just a person.
Romeo grieves for the light of his sun, Juliet,
and chooses to live a life with her in a dream
as the poison kills him.

— The End —