Once, wants....
Many, plenty,
Do you kiss these cherries because they are ripe,
Or because they are tasty?

Maybe, the honey from our bee,
Our petals and pollen may congregate,
In beautiful unison.

Maybe that sound is silence.

Perhaps, you just can't hear.

When I first read this poem I found it highly erotic. However, on a second reading I took something different from it - the piece seemed more like a general comment on society. Either way I enjoyed it! Welcome to the thread Pankration

A visit to Castlerigg

Fourty-two grey megaliths
Of metamorphic slate,
Castlerigg survives today
Retaining thirty-eight.

A temple east of Keswick where
The mountains are arrayed;
Stood there on a northern dawn,
The pilgrimage I'd made.

When I saw the mountain heights
Surrounding that old ring
Hazy blue and faraway,
My heart began to sing.

Just above the peaks there rose
A golden sun at last,
Slowly lifting, conjuring
Our Neolithic past.

Next to Stonehenge, Castlerigg
May seem a lesser star
But of all the ancient sites
It's loveliest by far.


©

Call to War

Skeletons dance in frenzied fury.
Demons scream their thoughts of glory.
Nemean lions roar their victory roar;
When the piper plays his call to war.

Werewolves howl at the smell of flesh.
The undead pray to meet their deaths.
The Mummy chants its incantation;
As it strives through war to gain salvation.

The Snow-Giant bellows words of fear.
As the enemy approaches; battle is near.
And goblins unleash their poisoned darts;
On human soldiers with frozen hearts.

Dragons swoop to seize their prey.
As Hades' army have their day.
And Orpheus smiles at a hearty yield;
Three thousand souls for the Elysian fields.

Nevertheless, I guess you'll be watching "Secrets of Stonehenge" on Yesterday at 8pm tonight.




Phew! Thank goodness I woke up. I was having a nightmare there.

Nonsense Biz, it's light and airy.

Hahahaha! Please give me some advance warning when you post a scary one.

I didn't watch it Biz - I'd already seen it three times


I thoroughly enjoyed this one BE The image ratio here is amazing, with nearly a different horror species in every line. A truly macabre hall of fame. All of them are great and the frenzied skeletons reminded of those in the old Jason and the Argonauts film.

Thanks Musty.

Seeker of Fame, Seeker of Fortune

Seeker of fame, seeker of fortune
Dare you enter a realm of insane distortion?
Where grasping hands reach for doors embedded with jewels.
And unknowingly enter the false world of fools.

Where the golden sun bathes all with its rays,
And materialists kneel as the priest of greed prays-
Waving pictures of a smiling Washington;
Then hungry winds blow all towards the searing sun.

Which explodes with joy at receiving victims well earned.
And hurls them down, like Icarus; bowed, defeated and burned.

I should have guessed. There isn't anything on at the moment which hasn't been repeated ad infinitum it seems to me - except for the Olympics of course.

We've nearly reached the finishing line thank goodness.

It's such a blessing to have been born without "the gift" of burning ambition - speaking personally of course.

With Time

A swan to another
that elegantly glides
across and far
and ever so wide
baby cygnets that follow
in forth and in rhyme
after mother leads
towards and with time.

I liked this, it presents a lovely image.

I thought I'd better post a light one especially for Biz.




My Secret Garden

When I'm in need of solace
My spirit seeks to find;
The door only I can open
That's hidden in my mind.

It leads me to a paradise
A place of love and care;
Of butterflies and birds that sing
Friendly creatures everywhere.

I can sit beneath a citrus tree
Where I eat the fruit of life.
Take a sip of lemon tea;
In this haven from all strife.

I can smile at laughing children
As they chase the busy bees.
Feel the breeze upon my face;
See the swaying of the trees.

I can watch the flowing fountains;
Sparkling waters, crystal clear,
And view the distant mountains
In freedom from all fear.

I can be myself forever
Do things without a care;
For in my secret garden
Love is everywhere.

Another corker BE I love the way you described dollars ( I think ) without naming them, just the picture of George Washington. Clever that and throwing Icarus into the pot gave the ending a nice mythical feel. I'm not a great fan of materialism - I find it a blind alley, so this poem chimed strongly.


Really beautiful Sandy I can't remember if you've posted before, but if not welcome to the thread

Just superb

The Grey Skies of my Childhood

The grey skies of my childhood seem
So faraway and yet
This poem tries to catch their theme
And pay a long-held debt.

I watched how summer’s blue decays
To learn before age seven
The opposite of sunny days,
Another shade of heaven.

First moments at the school, a change
When overcast preserves
Of cloud lit faces new and strange,
Affecting my young nerves.

The church looked more inviting if
In dark rain-soaked condition,
Then by the crypt we’d make a myth
With monsters in position.

A car in Clacton, Uncle Len
Drove on to coming thunder,
I still recall the instant when
Great music worked its wonder;

On Uncle Len’s car radio
Fast Beatle strings recruited
A fan for life, the storm let go
And Eleanor it suited.

Most early weather thoughts I save
Beam strongly, warm and bright
But grey skies of my childhood gave
A contrast to the light.


©

I remember my trips to Clacton very well too.

Wonderful images of childhood here Musty.

I love swans and have some crystal ones.


Thank you kindly sir. I love mine. We'll gather lilacs in the Spring again.

Everyone should have an Uncle Len - and enjoy The Beatles.

Thanks BE & Biz I've been waiting for ages to slot the first time I ever heard Eleanor Rigby ( in Uncle Len's car ) into a poem. I'll never forget that moment in 1966 - and it did happen during bad weather

Gimme Shelter, 1969

The Rolling Stones knew doves had lost,
Knew peace had been repelled,
How all along the watchtower
The innocents were held.

When Brian Jones departed us
They gave free at Hyde Park
A concert for the people and
A Stone out in the dark.

Within this time of turbulence
They also wrote a theme
To illustrate the conflicts
Which denied the Sixties dream.

Guitars weave gently, soft as silk
Yet throb with deep unrest,
Confirming in a studio
The Stones were at their best.

Those subtle licks were almost like
Pale Eastern village lamps
As images of Vietnam
Came bleeding through the amps.

Eventually a voice arrived
Then loud the band evoked
The roar of bombs and rifles and
The aftermath that smoked.

A song for fear of coming war,
When in the rising swelter
We reached the moon but on the earth
Some pleaded gimme shelter.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3rnxQBizoU

Delightful allusion, imagery and commentary Musty.

Blinding stuff indeed!

You are without any shadow of a doubt the finest poet on this thread.

Ta Troy I find the song Gimme Shelter timeless - it applies to the Iraq invasion as well as it once did to Vietnam.