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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/11/2014 12:41:02 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  73.     

First rose

A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010








































rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  74.     

Mist

Entranced in mist –
Mind mist; kind mist –
In a lea near woods –
Child woods; wild woods,
In shade serene –
We intertwined,
Exchanged a kiss.

Regal plumes of wings
Fluttered off and on
Attractive blooms:
Perfumed whores with
Nectar bribes.

The lea was our escape –
Innate – as of a child’s imagination;
Our psychotropic fantasy –
Legendary dynasty,
Silent in a deafening
Bliss of nature.

We – a creature paired
In one through coupled hands,
Caracoling, jaunting over
Grassy calluses –
Forgot about the world –
Cruel world, hard world,
In merciless extreme.

For now, we were the dream.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
































































dream dream dream dream dream dream dream dream dream dream
dream dream dream dream dream dream dream dream
dream dream dream dream dream dream
dream dream dream dream
dream dream
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  75.     

Her Bum

‘Does my bum look big in this? ’ She glared.
I gulped and stared upon the floor.
I must escape; the bedroom door
Was open. ‘Run! ’ my senses cried.
But I was numb – nerves were fried!

‘Well? ’ She scowled. I sought a subterfuge.
‘It’s absolutely huge! ’ I thought –
But how to tell her that–? A short
And blighted life she’d wreak on me.
And so to Wife, on bended knee

I prayed ‘Oh please release me from this hell! ’
She gave a yell: ‘So is it big? ’
I looked again – a mammoth rig
Was hanging down – but how to say?
An honest man would surely pay!

I stuttered ‘Err... well, yes it’s nice.’
Her voice was ice: ‘But in this? ’
I tried diversion with a kiss.
‘I love you’ also burbled out – but
I was heading for a rout.

I drew a breath. ‘Be a man! ’ I growled
Inside this howling, quaking head.
‘Well actually love, ’ and now I’m dead,
‘It’s colossal – a real whopper... ’
The bedroom shook; I couldn’t stop her.

I daren’t publish anymore…




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010





























































woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  76.     

Payment

A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.

I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.

I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.

Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’

I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010























































































O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter