Poetry Blogs (ancient)
poemagraphic on I never lied in the rose garden. (Cummings and goings) (2 hours ago)
The white ship slides serene, wind-blown,
heedless of its human burthen
while laying wakes but swiftly flown.
Mile-on-mile the dance of heathen
sunbursts play on flashing waters
pretty as maids, or bonds that weaken
as the leaving fades. The snows that fought us
in winters past, tall drifts in proud array,
melt clear in spring before our youngest daugh...
Friday 13th December 2019 1:08 pm
Astarte, Holy Isis, Diana,
unknown nymphs of wood or wave ,
all encompassing Nut,
whose gracile arch holds up the heavens clear.
of such fierce womanhood I would hear.
But ever does my old lyre Wish to strum,
Only for that bulbous bum.
Hittite badonkadonk! Great ass of Akkad!
Whose forebears defied the might of pharaoh ,
Thursday 24th January 2019 4:45 pm
While poring over dusty corners of an ancient night
I sang in darken'd evening flight, a voice edged
by the pain of doubt, a tempered blade to fight
an inner shout; the fearful dredge
of insomnia, the purgatory of my silent gaze;
remembrance too of sultry Australian dog days.
South-West karris loom ink-black, and rustle
as night-walkers, stepp...
Friday 27th October 2017 12:55 pm
King of the world for my time,
I ruled the world, and in my time
There was no death nor disease
(Except, of course, tooth disease
Which we will conveniently ignore).
My father was the sun, and I was
A simple farmer believing in the
Old ways before I met my destiny.
The creator of all things came to me,
And called me to be a prophet.
He asked me to spread his words,
To make his religion,...
Wednesday 11th January 2017 6:51 am