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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/22/2014 10:41:11 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  85.     

A Winter Pond

Sting-chill of winter matt –
Her frozen hand caressed us all;

And calming bleach of silence
Pressed upon the rustic scape
To leave an ashen underbelly –
Once raging summer chroma.

Even Winter’s gelid lungs laboured
Under heavy drag of flakes –
Their pilgrimage: to stay a deadened floor
In crunch-white peace.

And round about, the weight of time
– Collapsing under Winter’s drag –
Transmutes to grey: it’s three o’clock –
No lights pricking black out here! –
Even the night globe,
The Great Reflector – stonewalled;
Camouflaged by lead-laden cloud
Lolling in the claustrophobic noon.

At ground, a farm pond –
Seized in a dark hiatus –
Offered up repentance –
Why, it dared to harbour life!

I forgave it in my desperate gaze
Upon the crazy-paving surface,
That sealed in the black-chill temperature,
Where at bottom, something nithered
Still survived.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010



















































































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

   
   
 

  86.     

Death of Dusk

The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.

Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.

A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –

we have unnerved the very firmament.

But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.


I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.

Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind

while you lie as dead in your box.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

















































































dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  87.     

Tale of Three Cities

New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.

Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .

V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.

Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.

Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
































































city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  88.     

As I ventured to the Wood

As I ventured to the wood,
I stopped to draw on dewy air; let
Droplets shimmer in my hair, that
Rested on my tranquil head – as
In a sense of cosy bed.

As I ventured to the wood,
A gesturing cuckoo perched above,
And then in song with cooing dove,
‘You're welcome’, bade he, ’Enter please
To roam our land with gentle breeze.’

As I ventured to the wood,
A fallow deer of limpid eye
Gave care to glance at lucky I.
The heavenly aura 'bout her glow had
Charmed me, like a fine Bordeaux.

As I ventured to the wood,
A dazzling flower waved her face
In blazing show of dance and chase, and
Reddened bright in shade of dawn, she
Flirted like a prancing fawn.

As I ventured to the wood,
A butterfly had graced my arm,
And knowing I bid him no harm, he
Splayed for me hypnotic wing in
Colours for to urge me sing!

As I ventured to the wood,
The radiant sun shone down on me.
He flushed and beamed ‘I say to thee,
You bless your land; be filled with pride, and
Cherish e’er yon countryside! ’





Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved




























































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
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter