lithedark

I once met a snake, not a slithery snake
Not a slick-backed old snake or slimy slim snake
But a snake all the same and Jake was his name.

He came once a-hissing and said he was missing
Got lost reminiscing and soon found dismissing
He’d lost his own way and he chose here to stay.

“You cannot be here!”, I cried out with fear
“The coast is not clear! Some people come near!”
“This room is for dining!” and he said, “Stop whining.”

“I will speak nicely”, he said quite concisely,
He grinned so spicily and cried quite precisely,
“A dining room spot is such a nice plot.”

I then racked my brain, for phrases in vain,
“You’ll get in the grain, or plug up the drain!”
“You’ll get in my tea, then where shall I be?”

It was too late, I was doomed to my fate,
With a snake for a mate, he’d seen through my bait.
He’d gone straight to sleep, my pillow to keep.

For my friend, Abi Power. Thanks for reading.

Making rhymes a world apart
They’re torn so fast from poet’s heart
I sit and dream away the days
And plot my diction driven art
Penning phrase with which I part
Create a boxing wordy maze

I struggle seeing through the haze
Of choppy words that seem to faze
My sense of artist’s urgency
To put down words in many ways
Writing just to quell the blaze
And set these captive words so free

But as I free these words of me
A sense of dire need to flee
This art that mends the holes in soul
And gives me reason just to be
Not friend of verse nor enemy
But just a slave to poem’s toll

Would that I could rove the waves
In a large hollow black ship
To scuddle over the ocean’s back
And give my skulking foes the slip!

My hosts outfit me rather well
With a rich new set of gifts
Cloak and sandals, a blade of bronze
Just sent me out like this!

Sailing over the wine-dark sea
Avoiding all the traps
Charydbis and Scylla know
My men were made to last!

Through clashing rocks and Siren song
Go past Aeaea Isle
Don’t stop for the Laestrygonians
Their tastes are rather vile!

Cannibal giants, those terrible men
They match the Cyclops’ hate
Ripping ships and sails asunder
Dooming guests to ghastly fate!

Row around the House of Dead
Pay those specters not a glance
Stray far from Helios’ prized cattle
When facing gods, take not a chance!

At last we reach the sandy beach
Of Ithaca’s welcoming shores
Suitors holed up in our houses
Reaping of our stores!

Death to one and death to all
As arrows fly so fast
And mighty spears to help the cause
To kill those suitors to the last!

Thanks we owe to Zeus’ daughter
The pale-eyed one, to note
Resting now on safe home soil
No more burdens must we tote!

I love this poem. Turns out, I wrote it on Kambrie’s birthday years before we met. Thanks for reading.

Step inside my chamber dear, shrug away the cold.
Come and sit beside the fire, tell me what you will.
I will listen long my dear, putting thought to quill.
Tell me what you have to say, I’ve been waiting for you here.
Tell me that you’ve come to stay to stop the flow of tears.

Look into my eyes, my dear, tell me what you’ve seen.
Silver sails and hidden trails for which I truly yearn,
Tell me that you felt it too, felt the passion burn.
You’ve seen so much and know the world, I can only guess,
Have you come to be with me, or forsake me for the rest?

Let me hold you close, my dear, take in the starry night.
Give me words you’ve learned while gone, whisper in my ear.
Tell me til the sun does rise, chasing stars from here.
Your eyes are wet with sadness dear, tell me what ails you?
Amber orbs of love and care, wet with sadness’ dew.

I thought this was different! It’s mostly the same and the speaker is very selfish. The girl with the amber eyes has forever been my metaphor for the girl I love. Turns out her eyes were blue. Thanks for reading.

Desecrate, salivate, tempting tempers irritate.
Swindlers singing, screaming, clinging,
To their bottles, voices ringing.

Culiminate, infuriate, heated hearts just palpitate
Neighbors worry, whimper, scurry
Tuck their tails, fleeing flurry.

Originate, commemerate, silky shadows permeate
Duck and cover, hide my blunder
Protected by the guise of thunder.

This poem has a specific rhythm; maybe I’ll record myself reading it aloud. Thanks for reading.

How I sing a dirge contently
Of tremor plain and clear fluently
Nevermore stately, blatantly
And to try, quaintly, love

This went into my highschool yearbook; count the number of letters in each word. 3 141592… it’s actually 19 places, 20 digits total. What a mess. Thanks for reading.