Poets Corner

Discussion in 'Around the Campfire' started by Dundee, Aug 14, 2017.

  1. Georgek

    Georgek George

    Messages:
    257
    Hello Dundee,

    Many thanks for your kind post.
    I thought perhaps the following may be of interest to you? I apologise for not actually being a poet.

    Tired Love

    Did I not say that I loved her.......as I held her hand so tightly when there was a tempest?

    When the sea was calm and the sky was blue.
    Her youthful smile most radiant, as our souls entwined

    For we had sailed many journeys and spoke of oneness

    Then when the sea had unleashed it's rage once more...
    Did I not go back to hold her hand?

    But the hand had wizened and the soul had tired, as I gently let her go.

    The Goldsmith Line


    Through labyrinth paths that liaison by
    Elusive sites with brick wall heights
    I wondered along through dismal skies
    All chocked with slime and traffic grime
    Until I saw the Goldsmith sign
    Across the road where commuters pass
    All bagged with blue they formed a queue
    To draw a line for the bus and crew
    I watched a while as the dead stood by
    Then saw my love as she waved goodbye
    No laden load had slowed my path
    For the bus had come from journeys past
    To take them back through hills so vast
    Where forests lie that reach the sky
    So blue am I from days gone by....to catch the bus from the Goldsmith Line.


    Tax on My Soul

    He taxes your belt, as well as your pelt

    Hold on to your heart, lest he takes it apart

    Pay a price for your labour and one for your sabre

    Give him his tithe, because that is his right

    You labour all day, like man in the hay

    He cannot be caged, as he looks at your age

    Don't die in the straw, for the devil will call

    Two coins on your eyes as you lay on the ice

    Leave a penny for heaven and two for the preacher

    As the money he takes is for him to be richer

    Not to carry your coffin on backs that are cloaked

    The tax man won't choke from the crippled and old

    Lack of your gold; may render him cold.........

    Yet he searches your soul, to seek out your goal

    He hides in your 'will' and even your till

    Escape him you must, but he catches your dust

    Useful were you, to the church and the few

    But he taxes your faith despite all the money you gave.

    The psalms that he holds are from farms he has sold

    Lest they call him to hell from palms that are broke

    He seeks all the answers through time and debate

    Yet when he is gone, others will come.

    Pray to your God, for the ones he forgot

    Lest you meet him in Hell with the souls he had got


    Drummers





    Drummers

    The wind blew on this ill sought morn
    When cannons glowed red through dead men’s corn
    Rap-a-tap-tap the cap and the badge
    Twelve drummer boys rapped as the guns went tap
    Solemn men’s faces and young boys with braces,
    Marched as a band with a rap-a tap-tap
    They raced in haste with no time to waste
    A bugle blew loud as men hit the ground
    To charge up the mound, by a captain's a shout
    Then a drum hit the ground with one less sound

    Over the hill there was death gore and howlers....
    The drums beat no louder as guns filled with powder
    Blasted the sky and the tap of the drum
    As smoke filled the air and the lungs of the young
    On a still Summer’s day some people may say:-
    Drummers are heard along a cattle master's herd
    With a sound of a chirp, along a woodpeckers mirth,
    A bugle is heard from the tap of a birch
    Twelve drummer boys tap
    As they take off their hats
    Then mist comes down from the hill and the pound
    Covers the spot where the grasshoppers hop
    Silence then falls, on the stones and the hay,
    As the wind and the rain beats down on our brains
    Like tears of pain; all nurtured and strained
    Harmonically sweet from a drummer boy's beat


    The Steam of Matilda and Her Builder


    The new engine belched,
    A hiss and a pop that sounded loud with a resounding pop.
    Wheels turned round, as her furnace burnt proud
    A the whistle blew loud and people gathered round,
    She careered down the track as men plundered back
    A thunderous crack, there was no holding back

    Matilda was fast and right on track.
    Down the rails she roared.
    Then beauty astound, there was countryside all around.
    She went past a station and picked up some people
    Then went down the line all wrought and feeble
    Picked up a Lord who was solemn and bored
    Then at the next station, ready and patient,
    More people had gathered for poor old Matilda
    She chugged along, and saw two men of the cloth
    Who waved to Matilda along with their oath

    Rain clouds had gathered at the girth of Loch Lomond
    That drenched poor Matilda all hammered and battered...
    More steam did she 'drink', as the faster she spun.

    Then tiredness came in one mighty strain
    For Matilda had slowed as she gave a loud hiss
    To let us all know that it was her last kiss.
    Her journey had started with one mighty puff
    All welcome was she..............
    But to die on a track, there was no turning back
    Many journeys she had made in more than a day

    Her journey had ended, as it began;
    Clap of the hand and a porter's cry.
    Like a woman's birth and a baby's cry
    To salvage Matilda at her poor demise
    Is the same as a man when scavengers pry?
    To blow clean as a whistle or die in the thistles
    A solemn disgrace is to die in a race, all battered and rattled
    Without an embrace, no honour or grace........regardless of race

    For a journey we take just like the train.
    At times it is late; as we all have to wait,
    To keep to our paths as long as we last.
    Work too hard and we die on our track,
    All clogged and choked with too much smoke
    Man or machine, our fates are the same.
    The earth claims us all....both cogs and lords.

    Poetry by George
     
    Last edited: May 18, 2019
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  2. Dundee

    Dundee Fading day by day.

    Messages:
    978
    George, you write some of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read. It is the sort of work you purposely read slowly so you can take in the tale without missing anything. Twice in that last post your words literally gave me goosebumps.
    You are a Poet my friend by any standard, and very good one too. Thanks for posting :)
     
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  3. Dundee

    Dundee Fading day by day.

    Messages:
    978
    But the hand had wizened and the soul had tired, as I gently let her go.

    I watched a while as the dead stood by
    Then saw my love as she waved goodbye
    No laden load had slowed my path
    For the bus had come from journeys past

    For a journey we take just like the train.
    At times it is late; as we all have to wait,
    To keep to our paths as long as we last.
    Work too hard and we die on our track,
    All clogged and choked with too much smoke
    Man or machine, our fates are the same.
    The earth claims us all....both cogs and lords.



    My God George each time I read this through I hear something I missed before.
    It is like your words have a life of their own, and tell you a bit more of their life as you spend time with them.
    And Tax on my soul, you have fit a lifetime in a verse, so powerful.
    And drummers, I could hear them, and the guns as I read

    I don't know what to say :)
     
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  4. pepe

    pepe Noble

    Messages:
    527
    I wrote a forum poem once. Went like this.

    Here I stumble upon this thread
    When really, I should be asleep in bed
    Why the draw and why the pull
    Unless I post, I don't feel full
    It's like a drug with hidden agenda
    Bite my shiny metal arse.

    Love Bender.
     
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  5. Dundee

    Dundee Fading day by day.

    Messages:
    978
    Thanks to the folks that were able to help.
    I finally found enough bits to reconstruct the lost poem, Taken months. Hope you get a laugh out of it.


    "The Greyman"

    A Parody of "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe



    Once when I was feeling teary, I wiped my eyes cos they were bleary,
    With a cloth that lied upon my workshop floor.
    Then at a start my teeth were gnashing, due to a light that came a flashing,
    Just like a star, but only flattened, flattened like a plate that I had used before.
    "Tis just a star" I laughed, "just like the ones I'd seen before",
    Nothing fearful, that was all.

    And well It is that I remember, that next to the glow of dying embers,
    Shone three small beams of light from out the fireplace open door.
    From the glow I sought to borrow, the last of warmth before the morrow,
    But from the fireplace only sorrow - sorrow for the heat that was before.
    Longing for that radiant heat, the heat that came once through that open door,
    But Sadly now it was no more.

    But now the light I'd felt for certain, had ceased to flash behind the curtain,
    Filled me - filled me with a dread that I had never felt before.
    That star that I had thought looked flattened, was clearly not the light of Saturn,
    Was glowing bright, and ceased its flashing,
    This set again my teeth again to gnashing,
    It is a star, I cried and nothing more.

    I took a breath that made me stronger, then my feet began to wander,
    Towards the curtain at the window, certain its a star and nothing more.
    Although my eyes first thought it flattened, one short look and I was crappin,
    This light so sure was I was flattened, shone a silver beam upon my workshop floor.
    Though my mind I thought imagined, from the light i thought looked flattened ,
    Still shone a silver light upon my floor.

    Through the open window peering, I saw the beam that I was fearing,
    Emanating from that flattened plate that I had seen before.
    But from behind glowing beam unbroken, came five short words, "I heard them spoken"
    "Take me to your leader", said a voice so strange that I had never heard before.
    I stopped in place my progress thwarted, thinking of the voice distorted,
    And the words that I had never hear before.

    With no clear plan I started running, from this silver light so stunning,
    But still I heard the words again, but louder than before.
    This can't be real, I thought in gladness, such events are purely madness,
    A moments pause I took to my composure gain,
    My courage buoyed by my decisions, I quickly turned with clearer vision,
    I turned and walked towards my workshop door.
    Tis just a star, and nothing more

    All at once the door I opened, and not a single word was spoken,
    There before me was a sight that I had never seen before.
    You must believe my heart implores thee, standing there so slight before me,
    A small grey man with eyes like satin, stood there looking through my workshop door.
    Standing silent looking through my workshop door.
    Black almond eyes they met my gaze,
    Then nothing more.

    I woke to see its large head smiling, then all at once I started crying,
    In fear of the evil grin upon the face the grey man wore.
    Though your shape be roughly biped, you’re not from earthly place that I’ve been,
    What distant place come you this night within your flattened plate.
    Please tell me what I am to call you, and set me free I must implore you,
    Of these bonds that hold my naked form within these silver walls.

    Then myself in ways unmanly, a panic spell quite overcame me,
    A fearful sight the grey face beaming with those almond eyes he wore.
    You my friend I must beseech thee, if your eyes could only see me,
    Lying flat upon that table standing from the silver spaceships floor.
    I turned my head as well as able searching for an exit door,
    But all I saw were walls and noting more

    Then as much as I was able lying flat upon the table,
    I asked the grey man what intent had he upon my helpless form.
    But by now his grin had faded, close into my space invaded,
    Almond eyes moved closer, to my bedside within those silver walls,
    My form in those black eyes detected, fear on my face was now reflected.
    The quiet whisper I detected, echoed lightly from within those silver walls.
    With evil voice now spoken, And then he grinned ...
    “I’m going to probe you”

    His words a moment sat quite latent, then I with realization fainted.
    In dreams my thoughts were roving, on this pending awful probing,
    Trapped upon this ghastly table, with movements of my limbs disabled.
    Slowly now the grey man pondered, gathered tools from over yonder,
    Then placed upon the table close, such tools as I had never seen before.
    Such fright I bore.

    The grey man cast his gaze most slyly,
    Sitting by the table smiling, on a stool that rose up from the shiny silver metal floor.
    My mind began to race now thinking,
    How to escape this sinking feeling, that such devices cannot bode,
    An outcome beneficial to my person on this table off the shiny metal floor.
    In fear I swore.

    Looking at the table pensive, I spied such tools that looked offensive,
    These tools that on my person shortly bore.
    With thought it took a bright utensil, roughly shaped just like a pencil.
    Moving slowly almost gliding, to where my nether regions hiding,
    Neath a shroud of silver cloth than hung down almost to the floor.
    Could I look?, no never more.

    The places that those tools inspected, a description now, I safely censored,
    To your imagination shall I leave the humiliation I endured.
    Beast I cried, the devil sent thee, what purpose serves this pain you rent me,
    Lying here inside these silver walls.
    Oh how I wished for refuge safe behind my workshop door,
    I thought though, no nevermore.


    Go away you grey skinned devil, said I to it your purely evil,
    What brought your blue light shining on my workshop floor.
    My thoughts of you will always taunt me, and all night lights will surely haunt me,
    Oh tell me why you cast your silver light, so shining on my workshop floor.
    What needs of me to set me free,
    And ner bring your black eyes back to visit yonder workshop door.

    The creature listened to my rantings; now my breath was fairly panting,
    From the lashing that my tongue had rent upon the grey thing standing on that silver floor.
    Take your silver can around us, and never yet come back to hound us,
    Lest next we meet, prepared I'll be with golden sabre I once wore.
    This heartfelt speech on oath I ranted, I screamed at it though single handed,
    Go now beast and come back never more.

    So be it now with fear or humor, the grey man started walking to me,
    Standing close now, holding black eyes on me at a steady gaze.
    With one quick move and no word spoken, at last my silver bonds were broken,
    Now without restrains I started running, my legs like bees were fairly humming.
    I ran at once to find myself back standing safe outside my workshop door.
    Shall I leave it? No never more.

    At once the glowing plate enchanted, rose straight up from where it landed,
    Flashing, flashing up into the darkened sky.
    And now those black eyes always leering, come to me at night when dreaming,
    And no comfort now I get from embers shining on my floor.
    But now at night while under cover, my saber sleeps just like my lover,
    Sleeping now my hands rest on its slender hilt.
    For ever more

    Greywolf (AKA Dundee)
    2017



     

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