"worlde" poems
From chivalry came chastity
but your loved
held
the key
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ."
I laugh
the road over the Hog's Back
closed because....it melted
was the sun ever so
back in your day
eh Kit?
and what do I read
Mr. Marlowe?
why words, Kit, words
that word magician
Dr. Burgess he presumes
to bring you back
to life again
and so it seems
I see your blood Kit
streaming in the firmament
nay only a Deptford sunset
dragged screaming from memory
your blood upon the page Kit...
mere cherry juice it
stains the words
and so to Deptford I
do go
thanks to Madame Remembrance
I a poor
purveyor of poetry
clutching at words
and here
a great reckoning
not in a little room
but on a lost street
staining the scene
a sickly yellow
and so enough
of Prologue...
Act 1 begins
a smiling ruffian
see his knife smiles too
the blade eager for blood
alas I
in so much pain I
have no fear of death
indeed would welcome
the flicked knife
if it would release me
from my life
a man prepared
to die if it be so
"Come live with me and be
my love..." I doth quote
in my best Passionate Shepard
"Wot?" he wots
scared of my insouciance
the ghost of Marlowe by my side
ahhh he the very villian
a scar from eye to smile
he aims to do the same to me
"Where, rogue... did
they get thee?" I mock
"VILLIANS 'R' US?"
Marlowe's ghost laughs
"Aye lad...aye lad
to him!"
"Only one of us..."
I warn my hellhound
"....will come out of this alive!"
I pause for effect
"And I'm afraid
it won't be( hee hee ) thee!"
I take a determined step
towards my would-be
now trembling killer
who all this wordage
being too much for him
he flees
ahhh the glint of words
defeats the glint of steel
he my would-be-not-to-be-death
"What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth,
Or Monster turned to manly shape
Or of what mould or mettle he be made...?"
I declaim to an audience
of cats and cans and
other streetly filth
I...I. . .unable to
find the next line
and so I etc., etc., etc.
and once more
I am of Guildford yet again
30 years or more away
and there melts a road
upon the Hog's Back
and I laugh to be alive
"Doth teach vs all to have aspyring mindes:
Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous architecture of the worlde.."
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
"When the Thin Whyte Duke
And the Prince lay colde
When the fools stande talle
And the bigots bolde
The man of orange shall seize the throne
From the one they calle "The Clyntoone Crone"
Then men wille weepe and children waile
(The internete declare a "FAILE")
To no availe fore I have seene
The worlde will ende in twenty hundrede and sixteene!"
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
The Olde Worlde Tea Shoppe
established
nineteen sixty-nine
tells me all I need to know
about
the condensing of time.
The village green has seen
better days,
the people too.
Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 1:05 AM UTC
". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . "
I laugh
the road over the Hog's Back
closed because....it melted
was the sun ever so
back in your day
eh Kit?
and what do I read
Mr. Marlowe?
why words, Kit, words
that word magician
Dr. Burgess he presumes
to bring you back
to life again
and so it seems
I see your blood Kit
streaming in the firmament
nay only a Deptford sunset
dragged screaming from memory
your blood upon the page Kit...
mere cherry juice it
stains the words
and so to Deptford I
do go
thanks to Madame Remembrance
I a poor
purveyor of poetry
clutching at words
and here
a great reckoning
not in a little room
but on a lost street
staining the scene
a sickly yellow
and so enough
of Prologue...
Act 1 begins
a smiling ruffian
see his knife smiles too
the blade eager for blood
alas I
in so much pain I
have no fear of death
indeed would welcome
the flicked knife
if it would release me
from my life
a man prepared
to die if it be so
"Come live with me and be
my love..." I doth quote
in my best Passionate Shepard
"Wot?" he wots
scared of my insouciance
the ghost of Marlowe by my side
ahhh he the very villian
a scar from eye to smile
he aims to do the same to me
"Where, rogue... did
they get thee?" I mock
"VILLIANS 'R' US?"
Marlowe's ghost laughs
"Aye lad...aye lad
to him!"
"Only one of us..."
I warn my hellhound
"....will come out of this alive!"
I pause for effect
"And I'm afraid
it won't be( hee hee ) thee!"
I take a determined step
towards my would-be
now trembling killer
who all this wordage
being too much for him
he flees
ahhh the glint of words
defeats the glint of steel
he my would-be-not-to-be-death
"What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth,
Or Monster turned to manly shape
Or of what mould or mettle he be made...?"
I declaim to an audience
of cats and cans and
other streetly filth
I...I. . .unable to
find the next line
and so I etc., etc., etc.
and once more
I am of Guildford yet again
30 years or more away
and there melts a road
upon the Hog's Back
and I laugh to be alive
"Doth teach vs all to have aspyring mindes:
Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous architecture of the worlde.."
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
INTERCESSION
I sweeten her life
with my voice.
Recite
as she dies
poems she likes
scattered fragments of her
childhood
the dictionary has a word for it
"loveless"
as clinical as that.
It pins her
like a butterfly
in a collection
in her father's study.
There is only my voice.
She smiles.
Steps into the poem
It closes
about her.
". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ."
There are no more words.
Only thought
that places her
in her poem
this her heaven.
My words
an intercession
taking her beyond
this world.
The words
love her.
I close her eyes.
I close my eyes.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC