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(209)
by Dave
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1236257
A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination.
A sig awarded for winning "The Anything Goes Poetry Contest"

A log of our magnificent journey.

Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
November 18, 2022 at 6:14pm
November 18, 2022 at 6:14pm
#1040810
one
more day

wonderful
to be alive

in sunshine or rain
there is joy in my heart

for each and every day
I shall be forever grateful


Notes on the Octet form of poetry

November 8, 2022 at 11:48am
November 8, 2022 at 11:48am
#1040403
When Elmer Gantry praised the Lord,
his congregation sat entranced,
as air crackled with Gospel zeal
down the hallways to his sermon.

Immoral sinners felt the heat
when Elmer Gantry praised the Lord
and promised they would burn in Hell
for indulging carnal desires.

They were cautioned to tread softly
and not do anything foolish,
when Elmer Gantry praised the Lord
in tone so sharp it made them quake.

Heaven's field of fragrant daisies
awaited those who would repent
and fill the plate they passed around
while Elmer Gantry praised the Lord.


Notes
November 7, 2022 at 4:16pm
November 7, 2022 at 4:16pm
#1040380
Sunday morning church,
where bells are ringing
and folks are singing,
"We shall overcome!"

Sunday morning perch
beside the dumpster,
abandoned youngster
prays that help will come.
October 23, 2022 at 2:36pm
October 23, 2022 at 2:36pm
#1039598
The old house reeked with the musty milieu that comes from neglect. Dust clouds and cobwebs greeted us as we mounted the front steps to the porch.

For some reason, my grandfather Abaddon Webster had bequeathed the old place to me in his will when he finally succumbed after spending the last years of his life in a nursing home. My new bride Monique and I decided that refurbishing the two-story New England structure with quaint gables and a wrap-around front porch would be a better investment than pouring rent money into an apartment.

Since the place was obviously without electric power, we had purchased some nonperishable provisions and lanterns to tide us over until we could get the place straightened out and have the power restored.

When we entered the main room, we were relieved to find protective coverings spread over most of the furniture. We made our way to the kitchen and deposited the bags of supplies on the table. Then we set about exploring the remainder of the house.

Removing the coverings from the furniture in the den, we found rich upholstered chairs and sofas adorned with strange embroidered glyphs in gold and silver on a burgundy background. The walls were covered with shelves full of all manner of tomes, ranging from tales of high adventure to strange writing in alien gibberish. “The Testimony of the Mad Arab” proclaimed “The wolves carry my name in their midnight speeches, and that voice summons me from afar with unholy impatience,” and warned of horrors that stalk about and lurk in wait at the door of every man. “The Book of the Dead” told of profound secrets handed down from generation to generation by worshippers of the Ancient Ones. “The Maklu Text” cautioned that incantations shown therein “must not be shown to any but the properly instructed, and when used, the markings must be burned utterly, and the ashes buried in safe ground where none may find them.”

Needless to say, these writings were a bit disquieting and dampened our enthusiasm for the refurbishment project. Thinking a good night’s sleep would refresh our resolve, we fixed some savory strawberry jam sandwiches to eat and then retired to the bedroom on the second floor. I removed the dusty old bed coverings, and Monique spread fresh satin sheets with a lavender fragrance over the mattress. In the security of each other’s arms, we extinguished the lantern and went to sleep.

Somewhere in the night, Monique nudged me and asked, “Did you just hear something in the attic?”
October 21, 2022 at 2:18pm
October 21, 2022 at 2:18pm
#1039515
Hallowe'en,
a night for waking dead folks,
crammed full of creepy cuisine.

"Trick or treat!"
kiddies shout in unison
in pursuit of something sweet.

Children scream
when skeletons suddenly
jump up in frightening scheme.

Party starts
with Frankensteins frolicking
and ends with some tasty tarts.

Ghastly scene,
which we all love and cherish,
becomes happy Hallowe'en.


Notes on the Treochair form of Irish poetry

October 11, 2022 at 1:53pm
October 11, 2022 at 1:53pm
#1039063
Remember the brave
and all that they gave
to stop the tidal wave
of brutal tyranny.

Remember the cost
in precious lives lost
when opposing paths crossed
on beach at Normandy.

Remember the gore
when so many more
never saw the war
past that bloody shore--
a day of agony.

Remember their names
etched on that wall.
They answered the call
and gave their all
so we can be free.
October 3, 2022 at 2:19pm
October 3, 2022 at 2:19pm
#1038546
TXTNG cryptography befuddles me.
It's not EZ
2 C value in such cultural debris.
It's so cheesy.

My GF K8 has such an obsession,
she falls into a ST8 of depression
if she can't TXT.

She's so perplexed,
I think she needs an intercession.


Notes on Fabliau
September 17, 2022 at 5:02pm
September 17, 2022 at 5:02pm
#1037813
Before rooster crows, bugle blows,
"You gotta get up! You gotta get up!
You gotta get up in the morning!"

and recruits hit the deck a-running,
while drill sergeant barks commands,

and thus begins career
of military regimen
and selfless service
to nation's purest values,

career of distant duty,
maintaining vigil
to keep enemy at bay
and ensure the flame of freedom
keeps burning for all to see.
September 9, 2022 at 12:37pm
September 9, 2022 at 12:37pm
#1037537
“Every moment is a fresh beginning.”
~ T.S Eliot


The past is gone and out of sight
in life's complex motif,
as present time has taken flight
without a sign of grief.

Today, my life begins anew
with fresh ingredients
in Mother Nature's potluck stew,
including ripe suspense.


Notes on the Hymnal Stanza form of poetry

Let the creativity flow from your soul! *Cool*
Dave
"The Poet's Place
September 2, 2022 at 10:51am
September 2, 2022 at 10:51am
#1037212
One fine day, as I was searchin' for my Muse,
the Storymaster wrote some code that he could use
to build a sanctuary for writers,
so we could tarry and pull all-nighters,
trying to light the creative fuse.


         May the goblins of gab ignite your conflagration
         with a gallon of pyrotechnic inspiration.
         May the witches brew a ton of titillation
         in the cauldron of your imagination.


The folks at Writer's Cramp will test our wits,
and Stormy Lady's words will give us fits,
but kansaspoet's ghost still lingers here
to make it absolutely clear
that quality counts in a poetry blitz.


         May the goblins of gab ignite your conflagration
         with a gallon of pyrotechnic inspiration.
         May the witches brew a ton of titillation
         in the cauldron of your imagination.


While the werewolves are howling at the moon
and graveyard residents moan their gruesome tune,
we'll write it all for posterity,
each and every monstrosity,
thanks to Storymaster's creative boon.


         May the goblins of gab ignite your conflagration
         with a gallon of pyrotechnic inspiration.
         May the witches brew a ton of titillation
         in the cauldron of your imagination.



Notes

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