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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  8/30/2014 11:26:35 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  69.     

As Winter raged

Winter was at war.
Her subterfuge:
Crumble grey-white flakes upon the scene.

The air, dead;
Dead too, the sound –
Blunted by the whitewash.
Motion, dead –
Bluing chill saw to that.

Everything ground to a halt –
Like an empty train, crawling, seizing;
Eventually to die sprawled along a ghosted platform –
A lifeless plain of concrete.

I still had far to go –
Or so this brain computed
– Tried to –
Inside my own raging storm of white noise,
Howling in its desperation.

Now wild, blitz-wild,
I bore an irrepressible thought –
A goal, focus, idée fixe:

To clasp a frosted hand around
A radiant mug of sugar-laden
Calorie-heavy
Full-fat milk chocolate –
Steam wraiths writhing over
A freshly-spooned whirlpool,
Sultry in their invitation:
‘Come, sip, sip some more;
Soothe yourself in balmy richness.’

I still had far to go…



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010















































































winter winter winter
winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  70.     

Dawn

Dawn blushed – betrayed her waking sky
To gently break another morrow fine.
Night waned – the black receding – highland
Reaching for the early morning wine.

The chorus rendered frantic caws and
Chirps and other avian song,
Mapping out the 'mine and yours, ' and
Goading more to sing along!

Quiescent water – deep of lake –
Reflected out the hazy red, but
Through the glass, a flick, a break:
An urgent tail from hidden bed!

And in the meadow, waking faces
Calmly spread a coloured veil;
The dew disclosing spider laces –
Oft with once a fly’s travail!

Dawn blushed; revealed her inner peace;
She handed on another blissful day.
Night ebbed, relenting to release of
Warming blood that gives to her display.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010




































































































Trails of 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
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  71.     

Hero?

Hail great hero!
Hero brave!
We praise you hero!
I your slave
Now duly fall
On giving knee
In hero worship
Unto thee!

Now did you hero save our globe
When draped in classic hero’s robe?
And did it flow as reddened blood
As battles raged in fields of mud?

Oh hero tell me of your fame:
Were writhing serpents fair your game?
Did you pierce the dragon’s heart
Intrepid hero; play the part

When Tyrant slain in hero’s fight
On quaking ground thro’ battle’s might?
And did you hero conquer evil -
Waste the minions of the devil?

Oh valiant hero, does your armour
Gleam from ventures steeped in valour?
Your sword oh hero, sparks a glint
From charging steel to give the hint

Of what great chapters Hero's Tome
Might tell to us when heroes roam
Through lands of yore when goblins vile
Sought a chance to kill for bile.

Oh hail thy hero,
Hero tall!
Bless you hero,
As I fall
In blushing shame,
I speak to me…

This mirror aids to fantasise
That I be hero worldly wise,
But meek and mild is all I am:
Hero naught; unbridled scam.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009






























































































Hero hero hero hero
Hero hero hero hero
Hero hero hero hero
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  72.     

Memory

Age gnaws at life
Without respite –
Incessantly; insidiously;
Unnerving in its non–rhythmicity:
Irregular pendulums–
Not on clocks–
Dump cold milestones:
Another wrinkle; another grey hair;
Another memory…

I stoked the fire.
A cackling ember broke ranks,
Deluded by escape.
I killed it–
As I do a memory.

It’s the pain you see–
The memory bears the pain:
It hurts my gut, my heart,
My eyes…

I up the volume–
Let the hi-fi sing
A solemn Herbert Howells–
Drowns the memory, see.

I turn to stoke the fire again,
Staying the blankness.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
























































memory memory memory memory memory memory
memory memory memory memory memory
memory memory memory memory
memory memory memory
memory memory
memory
mem...
m...
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter