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Poems On / About LIFE  3/3/2015 1:21:09 AM
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Best Poems About / On LIFE
 
 
 
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  37.     

A Hardworking Wind

Yesterday's bird-busy garden is gone:
A hardworking wind got up in the night.
A wind, to hear it, with much on its mind,
Impatient of trifles; with much to get done.

Songless this morning the birds look out
Upon a moody, unsure-of-itself dawn
Beneath wet, rain-swollen clouds
Hung low, rank on rank.

Even the bulbul, herald of dawn, is subdued
The Heuglin, daybreak's minstrel, is dumb
And high on his post, the lark holds his tongue.
Distant thunder rolls about in the foothills.
































nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
 
Terry Dawson

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  38.     

Solitude

Through the dark winters of loneliness
Dreaming - hearth-fire of the mind -
Is friend. And fellowships imagined
are the summers of Companionship
In our yearning.
























l sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad sad
winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter winter
solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude solitude life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
 
Terry Dawson

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  39.     

A Cloudy Thought

I'm oddly old

young-mind paradox

eyes glassed
see all
play ‘Catch-a-Subject'

snapshot brain races
blowing in the words

oldoldoldoldold!

I'm effin' old
legs last another walk
along the high street

eyes crawl flit crawl

FLIT!

The Leggy Girl
gorgeous
captured
lashes long
longing
accentuate the blink of blue

solid bounce of bust
titillates

SHE KNOWS

knows not of me
feeling her with metaphors
notching up a fantasy
with palimpsest
and ink
deep I go

oldoldoldoldold!

I'm youthfully old
no subcutaneous fat for Slaughter
Mark R. Slaughter's wiry arm
twisty stubborn

my psalm of life
my pen
my strange imagination
battle on

a back-street wander steals a shifty cat
death-night charcoal
he's fifteenth century lore and ghost
and eyes me up for terror target

he'll do for written thought!

on: the morrow of a day
and I meander by the water

the pond ponders
shares my recollections
captured in a unison of gliding ripples
riding o'er the mirror
like fingers lightly stroking mammary skin
a sensuous trail
to happen o'er her nipples

and in the blur
reflections
dance in grand contortions
thro' a space-time wake of swans
consumed in melancholic muse

oldoldoldoldold!

I'm old
yet I'm at home with age
age-old age
adage-riddled
strewn across a page
drowned
in second-rate sketches

I catch a cloudy thought
within the yin and yang of sleep
search inside my drunken face
jaundiced with the nicotine
of thigh-blessed cigars

ears closed
I droop to Thirties' blues
draw on the harp
forget the worries
let whiskers grey.

…

Though sparse,
The mist of mind hangs;
And yet I capture all the
Strumming chords,
Finger-picking neural play
To freshen up the brain,
Goad me think:

For once I do -!

And yet again,
I think of you!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012











































































































































Lines of Life
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012

life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life

and how they take us far!
 
Mark R Slaughter

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  40.     

Snobbery

A solitary rose in red attire
Condescended:
A fleeting glance -
She apprehended
My affections,
Turned away
From me, a stray -

Stubble weed -
Genes to build an oddity:
Common seed -
Happy-go-lucky entity
In dull array.

The rose glowered,
But in ascension
Slipped a view of blight
Upon her regal greenery:
Black spot!

In all her bold perfumery
And blushing flower,
The sheen of vulnerability in jet
Reminded me how snobbery
And haughty shower
Tarnish with an underlying debt!

She wavered in her shallow play -
Man-bred -
Hardiness foregone.

The rose no longer shone.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
From: Poetry Rivals 2010 - A New Dawn Breaks
Forward Press











































































































Life creeps:

life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life life
 
Mark R Slaughter

Read more poems from Mark R Slaughter >>>
   
 
 
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