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Best Poems From
MARK R SLAUGHTER
(1957)
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25.
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February Rain
To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February
Eons from the autumn shower
Even from a summer berry!
Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.
The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism
Even if the hammering stops!
Metallic chills entrap machines
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead and little said!
But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts but nil of yield;
Perhaps hell starve; perhaps hell drown.
Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
Mark R Slaughter
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26.
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
Youre fired! He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangmans rope!
So now Im free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Mark R Slaughter
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27.
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Photograph
My stare,
like a statue's -
not a blink,
wink
or twitch -
Deepened in the history.
I lifted generations to my chest,
But the frame jealously clamped itself
Around the black and white haze of years.
Time drifted;
Memory tears;
Wet warmth washed the venerable glass
That mothered the dulling gloss,
Kept it clean from dust of contemplations.
Duty interjected.
I bore a smile,
Telling nod -
Acknowledgment -
Then unknowingly placed the fading vision
Back down on the sideboard
Until another year
or so.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
family family family family
family family family family
family family family family
family family family family
family family family family
family family family family
family family family family
Mark R Slaughter
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28.
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Premeditation
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.
And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
Mark R Slaughter
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