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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  7/27/2014 11:11:44 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  9.     

An Illusion

Speak to me –
Speak thro’ drifting clouds

O! sing to me –
Sing as if the sun would throw a flare
To give to harmony

Then call to me –
Call across the drowsy valleys –
Spread the word you care!

Now come to me –
Abandon now
My inner dreams
That lay illusions bare.

Then pray for me –
Pray that I recover
From reality:

But no! I ask, how could you,
For you were never there.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
















































































































It's Drizzling Dreams.

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
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
   
 

   
   
 

  10.     

A Little Ditty

O! love to me is but a season –
Seldom does it overstay,
And tho' I pain to seek a reason,
Like the dream, it fades away

To leave me once again in awe
Of how the heart can render raw
In loss of love; but then to soar

Atop anew! – and hail adieu!
To her who fled from chance I gave
To see us wed: Then on,
To court another fairer face –
And lose again in end of chase!

I curse the seasons evermore –
They tease me thro' their metaphor:
Starting fresh, their vigour young,
Yet oversoon, the ditty sung.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011












































































































Raining Love

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
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love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  11.     

It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009





























































































































The Reign of Death

Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  12.     

Upon the Arid Lakes

Someplace
A field of flowers
Rousing under remnants of the dawn:
Out there! from death, I rose
Above the silent many –
A distant will-o'-the-wisp
Reflecting under airs of minor ninths –
How rich the ambience they threw!

What theme of prosody
Had rendered me? –
Tho’ silent were its words:
A broken soul in pulsing pain –
Thou mustn’t guess what goes behind
The sick and ghostly screen of war!

In sallow-grey and other ashen hues,
Disrobed of warming flesh
That reassures the bones,
A twisted pose
Portrayed my physicality –
Not unlike the carcass of a prey;

But as a cloud of thought, I mused,
Exacerbating woes
Collected in a life dispatched
In freely flowing blood,
Conferring crimson shades
Upon the arid lakes aflood
With glorious tides of nascent buds
Begetting innocence.

And as we glowed in ruddy shades,
I asked: ‘What future lies ahead?
What terror trades? ’


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011






































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Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter