Moloch trail
Trace the maps of history
Why men fail
Drain the taps of mystery
The monster's in the house
The monsters in the house
Talking heads leave their beds
To talk about campaigning heads talking
Who can decipher all the fodder
When the heads are all just squawking
The Turks are my friends,
and towards them my support tends,
But the english are my countrymen,
adopted yes, but shud I support them ?
my mind is in a state of agitation,
who to support, that is the question !
I think I will take the easy way out,
every good play will get a shout,
Tomorrow, like today, I will be an egalitarian,
Neither English, nor Turkish, but just an Indian
(Ode to the England vs Turkey FA Cup qualifier tomorrowO
Gautam is an Indian,
and a football fan.
I doubt you'll get chlamydian,
and you're quite good with a pan.
Crack some brews, enjoy the screws
that muddle every match,
cook a curry, just don't hurry,
masala needs it's time,
watch the game and have some snacks,
and celebrate the flurry:
Men with legs, and balls to boot,
whoever wins will end this rhyme...
but in the meantime, watch the game,
and let's all hope it won't be lame.
Yo cav - how u doin' mate ?
Not too bad. Had some good work lately, a nice thing after a bit of a dry spell. Getting into the busy season now, and through Christmas. How are your adventures going?
Where once a ladder to my rooftop garden led
There now leans a tattered runner and a single tread
The petunias and roses are no more
The crazy wind sweeps the barren floor
The hummingbirds all have fled
Sweet expectations fell down dead
I felt that one Edgar .... nice
Sometimes I'll break into rhyme
I find it helps to pass the hours.
I produced one today
But I erased it away -
Most foul, most foul,
Like limburger on a tray;
I will come with a vowel
And a tender growl:
Next day we will play.
Immaturity
IMMATURITY
When in doubt,
pout.
When no result,
Sulk.
When ignored,
Bored.
When discovered,
recovered.
No subject
Hello all,
Have you ever read a poem with no subject at all?
One that went on about everything but yet nothing at all.
Or one that had a title about a subject but had no subject still.
Have you ever felt that a poem without a subject had a mysterious thrill?
Just because it would keep you asking, "what is this saying for real.''
Well i haven't yet, but i have written many still.
One's with no idea, no humor, and no chill,
I am not to good at this yet, but neither are many others.
But Ill just try again until our four fathers have three brothers.
Hey Curious
Your first post is a poem;
How thrilling.
Some folks like to cuss
And be destructive
Others, more balanced perhaps,
More receptive, more sensitive
Seek other modes of contact
And achieve their aim
Without stridency.
Crane wrote that a man must fight
Earn his badge expend his might
Then let the ages determine the right
Though a million corpses the pages blight
hehe Spontaneous you say.
Asking me to bring my brain out to play.
Be careful what you ask for, you just might get your way.
Let's see where do I go from here?
Take a ride on the milky way,
Or ask the man on the moon what happened during his day?
Does he look forward to the rising sun?
So his time to rise and stay in the skies is done?
I don't know about this spontaneous
It's quite a strain on the gray matter, brainious.
Hehe..I think, my welcome, about now, has drainioused.
giggle,
C2mml
Reminds me of the spontaneous songs Dylan wrote: The "I Shall Be Free"s for instance.
Chaos 'n' babies -
When daughters give birth!
Rose up at four
And rushed for all we're worth,
Then sat back and waited nine hours,
Ate bad food and stewed.
Was it worth it to greet eight pounds of screaming fury?
Pure joy trumps all grief acrued.
(Yes, folks: My daughter had a baby girl today, my seventh grandchild. They named her Joey Michelle.)
The power of one, edgar.
cornstarch and delicacy,
soft touch and petals,
deep in the heart of me,
sweet breath of eternity.
and the beat goes on...
edgar................................................wonderful
