a calendar
circe
borne of its radiation
like a weed freshet grown
striving life from the harsh
striations
a douse of summer
freezing into snow

time
when summer softness
blew a heat sufertuge
of colour
on sculpted cheeks
thin with hunger
appellate desire
a consumption of wolves
blown like black
sirens
through forest
citidels

wear a coat of arms
and put ones heart
in a jar

To err is human
to lead is but natural
to fight and win
is a desire
of all normal

only the brave bold and beautiful
differ,

they want to be always a leader
and
hate intervention
as we all dislike to be deferred
and
so we fight from the higher planes we exist
our position hope no one alters
nor us does desist

1. “When I have FEARS that I may CEASE to BE…” (Keats)

2. “I MET a TRAV’ller FROM an ANtique LAND.” (Shelley)

3. “Shall I comPARE thee TO a SUMmer’s DAY?” (Shakespeare)

So here I write a trenchant little verse
which stands like rigid hemp upon the shore
and through the terms strike daily to disperse
my laxness into discipline and more

Ron

sunlight
reflects
from dilated
pupils
as introspective
contemplations pour
into sour sweat
that accentuate the stench
of self worth
enclosed in
the savage essence
of being.

Written by MDT View profile MDT
Published 17th September 2013 12:59pm
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