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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  2/1/2015 4:10:55 AM
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Sea Fishing Off the Jetty

Out on the jetty, men froze -
All in the game of casting rods

Midnight laughed, chose another
Wave to throw upon the mortals

So they turned up the Tilley lamp -
Warmed up hope and gave comfort

The blue-black clouds, overweight
With snow and gloom, dumped their icy guts

Gales ripped, night ghouls howled, and
Banshees wailed from stinging snow

But Man's WWII tenacity stood up hard
In granite block - Man must show manliness,
Beat the wretchedness of Nature's raw power,
Take home the catch - the worthy catch -
Raison d'κtre; tell His women of the perils endured

The essence of sea fishing purred.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

sea sea sea sea sea sea sea sea
sea; sea; sea; sea; sea; sea; sea
sea sea - sea sea - sea sea - sea sea
- sea sea sea sea sea sea sea sea
sea; sea; sea; sea; sea; sea; sea
- sea sea - sea sea - sea sea - sea sea
Mark R Slaughter



Stem Cell

Nondescript ball, nonchalant in rest from function:
Purpose immense; programmed to construct; make healing.
Trigger your switch; signals now received: instructions.
Replicate; grow; energy for purpose; differ-
entiate; feed, speeding up your drive; survive: now
Build to replenish as to see regeneration.
Organs anew! Or you shall repair with flare, so
Shine, you small cell – swell! Do we see child alive to
Thrive – or is tissue now of recovered state, orn-
ate once again, working as before? Pronounce and
Demonstrate life: be your small mind so kind oh
Stem Cell.
Mark R Slaughter



The Chess Game

To see that regal chessboard stand -
Prominent, eminent, historically grand;
Refined in polished real-wood veneer,
Exuding class for all to revere.

But of a moment, the board stood incomplete -
No fighting ranks prepared to meet.
No chessmen stood, enticing war,
To challenge and strategise, for points to score.

Now herald the players, unleashing their men -
Staunton of course, deployed with aplomb.
The doughty queens now ready to stride,
Primed for action; taught with pride.

White strikes! A pawn runs out.
Black retorts, to match with clout!
King's knight responds, standing his ground.
So Black - determined -considers his round.

The pause is short - his bishop attacks.
White sits pensive, mulling his tracks.
The opening plan now truly played,
Middle-game tactics drive the crusade.

The players settle, planning their ploys,
Though hide their fears with manly poise.
Cerebral ardour tautens nerves,
Insidiously draining on vital reserves.

Could Black now gain an upper hand
To steal the game and take command?
The board is dripping with bloody affray,
And tension stirs to heighten the play.

But with the foes in violent flurries,
Battling hard against their worries,
White - drawing on years of crafting his game -
Renders a move of great acclaim!

The audience smiles - Black is lampooned!
He now must heal this mental wound -
For pride is scarred and troops laid bare.
A recovery plan must Black prepare.

And though he tries to change his track,
All moves are trounced in flying attack.
The crippled king must face his doom,
As pungent death imbues the room.

Beads of sweat reveal his fate:
The binding path to certain mate. So
Black now humbled with vicious sting,
Resigns his fight, and tips his king.

Players stand, shake, and retire
As White now beams with clever fire.
The audience drowns in technical chat…
Look, Black has lost - and that is that!

Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
Mark R Slaughter



All on Earth

I died so many times in empathy,
Cried so many rhymes in sympathy,
Dreaming out the horrors in the dark –
Imbibing all the agony. Embark
I must, on travels out from gentle home –
A flagellating path; a track to roam:

I am to Hell to go, to ruin, aflamed,
And there, in queerest irony, be framed
In curse: what all on dubious earth have done:
The race to kill our planet has begun.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Mark R Slaughter
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter