Poetry Blog by Many names, many faces...

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Ann Foxglove on Era (Sat, 10 Jul 2010 07:40 pm)

Ann Foxglove on Behind the curtain (Sat, 10 Jul 2010 07:39 pm)

Deborah Jordan on Tales of Bothnia (Fri, 11 Dec 2009 09:03 pm)

on Looking back... (Thu, 10 Dec 2009 11:43 pm)

on Looking back... (Sun, 4 Oct 2009 09:08 pm)

Deborah Jordan on Era (Sat, 26 Sep 2009 02:24 pm)

Nichola Burrows on Era (Fri, 25 Sep 2009 01:28 am)

on Era (Thu, 24 Sep 2009 10:04 pm)

on Era (Thu, 24 Sep 2009 09:46 pm)

Deborah Jordan on The consort of Vulcan (Wed, 23 Sep 2009 12:41 pm)

Confession

Fear it haunts our heroic friend;
for 'he.' The man sworn to defend,
what is so rightly good.
As any-fine man should.
Though, even the purest of hearts canst' crumble,
churned by the grind lain out in front;
chewed an' mauled beyond bitter remnants,
of nothing but crumbs...

“I was a nipper new an bold,
foretold I'd be something greater than great.
That no mortal man had dared to...

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The Wheel

She cries, she cries. Stop!
I would wade all the oceans-
To extinguish one teardrop.

For when we meet, our eyes. Gaze fixed.
Sparkling jewels that would cause the sternest of vessles to - capsize.
Transfixed... on the sapphire marbles lain infront of mine eyes.
As there before your guise your lips replies for they plot an devise sad an uncertain prlonged goodbyes.

Having gone year...

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Miss Rose

A Woman of bones, a skeletal mass,
To make herself known on this frightful day.
Eyes hollow, hair combed with glass.
Those whom bellow a scream may pass.
And hear whispers in the ear from thee lass:
'Edwina Rose' The banshee... she'd say.

Standing above;
The highest cliff.
An' empowering Wiff,
A leathered laced-glove.
Left-Handed.
Wif Ropes Banded.
Arms fo...

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Rare Spark

My first sonnet, be gentle :)
 
 
Spring's arrival strikes to this profound decor,
of a' rosemary's sweetness she likes the one' who's for.
Mystery... quelling the statement of this untimley starry night,
Long to search for recognition, this blinding blurry light.
Often wanting to find that whom was behind th' mold,
could certainly have more to the mind than appearance would behold.
For such a feeli...

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Tales of Bothnia

 ..For Deb:

 

Fly from thee, my friend to be,
Our Voyage thro' the lucid sea.

 

"Indeed, thee Bothnian Sea."

 

Ay, throughout the Bothnian Sea,
we go my friend to be.

 

"Th' Horizon is closer cant yee see?"

 

We must pass thro' Archipelago,
To the gulf! make haste! we go!
we must reach the Bothnian sea!
Be where our sins repented, our conscience free.

 

"yee, thee wonders of th' Bothnian ...

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Looking back...

Think of what? his own accord..
Of riches only he could afford,
Dwindled through his late wife,
A bounty bound to the knife.
Than he; 'The man' whom lost a thousand shillings further.
Cannot cry murder... murder.

 

Shakespeare I set a dote to thee,
your written word hast help't me see.
Oft' I mistook for thought,
Seeking answers I haf' sought.

 

Metallica; boxes filled with dust;
Inhalation of coppered...

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Behind the curtain

In a land divided by mesh
Molten dew of the furnace,
Steel grasped by ember’d flesh.
charred thro’ bone, uphold the aegis,
Fists tought, body stasis.
Cherub busks an’ orniment dwellers,
Mask privacy of fortune tellers.

 

When is now an’ now is when,
In times we must make our own.
Acheive the status known as zen
To keep our repressive thoughts still sown.
Even then... we are still alone.
Land divided by mes...

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Era

So I lie here sickly,
Shackled to thy bed.
As you came in my chamber,
Thinking thy dead.
Enter thy chamber,
Come sit on thy bed.

 

No bone I can move,
No thought can be said.
Though your with me thy dear.
Next to thy bed.
Nursing me better...
As the rest think thy dead.

 

As the clock strikes twelve,
All over the land.
The people are praying,
For this pain I withstand.
The people are praying,
For this horrid...

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The consort of Vulcan

"Tis in my memory lock'd,
and you and only you yourself,
shall keep the key of it."

 

Ah, how folly to think that such a lovetale could so' avail,
How treason, betrayal - could be a reason to preserve this script.
Know of nothing that knowingly could avail,
From the very cloudy crypt,
He longed for her veil to so unveil...
Yet the tooth of wrought remained still gripped...

 

As she by carriage throu...

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Personality

Living life free at last,
not to threat the music past.
Tis a time of quarrels qwelt.
quicker than ice doth melt.


Though surely one should know,
that no being can forgo.
A presence quiet a presence quaint.
of strokes elegantly my brush do paint.

Mona you lie two sides to a coin,
weighted in a silvry sheek-wrapping blanket,
Tarnished unrevealed. To be avoided,
A knee-jerk of ones delicate loin,

Be him: T...

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