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My Quill

Submitted by Robert Tucker PhD on Sun, 2018-08-26 11:28

Day Dream

The grand master hung over me
And shadowed all but the rolling sea
In the flowered green hollow of the valley
The fairies and elves danced with glee
From the perch high above I could see
The coloured bridge that often covered me
There In that unknown to dare all fantasies
While travelling untested paths to condone
All I did see whilst contemplating alone
In the vision that willingly guided me home
And each moment spent at dusk
A new adventure was mine to entrust
And guide those to a needed seer

For Mia

In the golden light of forever
shes skipping and dancing about.
She's running along with unicorns
of this dears I have no doubt.
On earth she was a treasure
that god had lent for a while,
gentle blessings were bestowed
from her laugh and in her smile.

Warm baths and warm hands
some of her favourite things,
nail polish of various colours,
until she heard an angel sing.

Literary Devices Sample Poem II [Critique Workshop]

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Breathing Ecstasy

she was
his glory
which he
wore so
in her
he rejoiced
through him
she was sublime
they drew ecstasy
with each

Flower Found

On the sidewalk
she laid there,
a delicate island
surrounded by stone.

How long had she lain
In fear of being trampled
by important, impatient
people, I do not know.

But when she saw me
it seemed, I could be wrong,
but colors seemed to brighten
and her sweet scent exuded.

She came into my hands
thankful -her bruised
and tender head.

But such sweet scent,
her lovely face,
were more thanks
then ever I could repay.


The next time a thought comes
A hungry long-necked vulture

And it tries to shred your peace
Eyes homing on horses fleeing lions

Open up your palms
Maybe hooves might outdo paws

Keep them abut, reader’s style
Neigh too, nothing’s new about roars

Count all the sprawling whorls
As you sprint, kick from the rear

There are a billion patterns of you
Dizzy them with a circuitous race

Lines of beauty thicker than despair
The vulture would seek a meal elsewhere


Moon light slips and seeps to touch
your delightful savoury curves as I peep
let my fingers trace their softness
to bring you pleasure quivers of joy,

Uncovered your glow with warmth
tremble in desire as my tongue probes
freely invade the privacy of your body
taking turns to lick dig and delve with zeal,

Raving uproars, barbaric clamour for more
induce a mayhem of desperation within
surge of a breathless surrender to my whim
cool work, widen’s resources to my glee,

The Superlative Moon

The silvery lustre in its new found aura
touched by passion softly unveiled
manages a shy smile to the warmth
of burning raptures woefully induced,

Seduced layers kissed by stars vanish
as her trembling mounds and craters
challenge gravity to cry, ooze and froth
inflame desire in misty uproars of thirst,

Invading beam of joy merges to herald
enveloped by ecstasy in skilful surrender
to thrusts and recoils in rapturous activity
reaching a new state of no return apogee;


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