Wilting where willows weep,
minute malachite mendicants measure
summer’s sultry season softly.
Tag Archives: rhyming poem
Excerpt from PotPP
Outside our town there was a glade
where coats of comely mallow swayed.
Their beauty made the billows weep
and caused blithe bumblebees to leap
upon those vivid violet thrones
to gather dusty yellow stones.
The wooers chose that pretty place
to slyly bask in joy’s embrace.
Each morning at the stroke of nine
they hurried past the prickly pine
to wallow in warm waiting arms
and revel in each other’s charms.
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“Plight of the Peevish Peddler” is a 2,360 word narrative poem, written in iambic tetrameter that I wrote about a year and a half ago. This excerpt is from the poem’s second section.
Canine Calamity (a Clogynarch)
I went to London with my hound.
She ran away on foggy ground.
I questioned and cried.
Alas, my voice died!
Has her hide
found the pound?
for a friend, on her birthday
This birthday is a time to think
of moments now gone by,
while sipping on a vinous drink
until your glass is dry.
Facebook Ghost
This morning close to six past eight
I placed a bagel on my plate,
then opened up my Facebook page
to see what news was all the rage.
Kate Leary had a baby boy;
she barely can contain her joy.
The selfie squad was here of course;
that gal by Ann looks like a horse!
My social justice friend is back;
for starting fights he has a knack.
It seems that Susie’s Grandma died.
I read her post and nearly cried.
Joe’s breakfast bowl looks so delish,
I wonder if that’s meat or fish?
Naomi’s pics are always great;
that’s all she posts at any rate.
Last night Sebastian got quite drunk
in his own words, drunk as a skunk.
Tom’s sister did a 5K run;
I gather it was lots of fun.
Jill’s birthday party is tonight
the theme this year is Rainbow Bright.
I comb my fingers through my hair
and try to think of things to share.
But on this windy autumn day
I just don’t have that much to say.
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*edited after initial posting
Beyond the Lee
A skirt of stars falls to the earth
as mischievous men drink in mirth
to celebrate their trying trek;
all hearts and hands are now on deck.
What shall tomorrow’s sunrise bring?
Into which waters will they spring?
Neither man nor beast truly see
what terrors lie beyond the lee.
Hunger
In this moment of perfect pain,
tears wash away within the rain.
And as frail feet meander home
wet worlds descend from heaven’s dome,
soaking skin in salty splashes,
driving me on with lusty lashes.
As night approaches, fear sets in
then grim visions begin to spin.
Do demons linger by the fire?
plotting to place me on their pyre?
My feet tarry at this divide;
pupils careen from side to side.
A critical choice must be made
no one will come to offer aid!
This way? That way? How do I pick?
Silent clocks tick loudly, quick! quick!
I shall follow this unknown lane,
in hopes that I might live again.
sundry folly 