Lawless are they that make their wills their law… Shakespeare.

Under the Gun

Once upon a time I lived with you,
The best of friends, we were tried and true.
Now the tide has turned and the war’s begun,
Nothing’s the same when you’re under the gun.

I did everything I possibly could,
Went out of my way far more than I should.
Remained to the end when you’d been shunned,
How easy to forget when you’re under the gun.

Took you to the mountain, took you to the sea,
Tried to understand why you always disagree.
Put you together when you came undone,
But it makes no difference when you’re under the gun.

Now with hindsight it seems so clear,
All the things that you said were just a veneer;
Tied up and tangled in the lies that you spun,
Nothing makes sense when you’re under the gun.

In the shadow of doom my heart it mends.
I know I’ll be strong by the time it all ends.
Thought I’d seen everything under the sun…
Till the day I found myself under the gun.

Thank you, I am only too happy to share whatever comes through. Words like yours make it all worthwhile, dear ‘butterfly’.

you are a song, a song of love
forged in a sacred vale;
a song set free over hills and lea
and carried on ocean gales

you are a song, an ancient song
sung in heaven’s bright fields
forgotten in haste when shown the waste,
the door behind you sealed

you are a song, a doleful song,
a tune so biting and thin –
the piper unfurls his loneliest skirls,
welcoming travellers in

you are a song, a by-gone song
of memories that reappear,
a flower so fey in autumn’s bouquet
with winter drawing near

you are a song, a song that soothes,
after the verdict is in
a song that survives through countless lives
surrendered like ashes to wind

you are a song, a song that soars,
o’er whistling peaks and plateaus,
high up above the dream of the dove,
where only the eagle goes

you are a song, a nameless song
a splendour that daily grows,
a song unsung, an unspoken tongue,
that only the heart may know…

How History tends to echo!

How indeed.

death results when war
breaks out between opposites;
pride comes before a fall

Hi, All. I took a little time out of my schedule this week past to write the following poem. I have added the second poem, to alleviate the somewhat dark mood of the first. Love in Spirit to you all, D.

bye bye sun,
It’s been a fine day,
but now the night’s turn has come

lay down your fiddle,
lay down your bow,
hark to the beat of the drum…

The Torturer

A skeleton dances a dance macabre,
Atop the fevered, blood-spattered skull;
As the torturer fingers a gleaming barb,
His quarry’s head limp, eyes glazed and dull…

O’ torturer, o’ torturer, how fast do I fade,
How deliberate your stride, how so undismayed;
Your’s the sting of the whip and the bite of the blade,
Mine to concede how I’ve been played.

’Tis not I, o’ wretch, the hand that lays waste;
’Tis not I sought counsel of fools and ingrates.
’Tis not I that ravaged the innocent and chaste,
’Tis not I that chanced to tempt the all-fates.

O’ torturer, o’ torturer, oh so on point,
Were I none the wiser, were I so adroit;
My body to the dogs, my soul to anoint,
O’ grant me this mercy, that I may exploit!

Black is the craw of a life gone awry;
A dying man’s wish I’Il not deign to deny.
Know that your road I’ll thus fortify…
Wherever tears flow there mercy flows nigh!

07 05 2024

Craw; a less common word for crop, archaic

Mercy

Mercy marks thy way with ease,
When all else tried but failed the test.
Soiled pride bends the knee
And disappears to take its rest.

Mercy marks thy way with poise,
When angry face, no longer red –
Tired of its endless ploys,
And temper tried, is put to bed.

Mercy marks thy way with grace,
With all resistance fading fast;
That foiled fear takes its place,
And new winged life be born at last.

Mercy marks thy way with peace,
When all forbearance comes undone.
And all love’s ways that are Thy Ways
Reveal their shining face as one!

HUuu

Dear friends, I am staring down the barrel of an upcoming crossing of swords, and will need every ounce of strength, wit and focus I can muster. I will therefore return here to the Cornucopia in approximately a month’s time, at the latest. Apologies for the cryptic preamble, but at this point, the less said the better. In the meantime, I will leave you with this extended poem, a veiled, albeit thinly, recounting of an encounter with one of those beings that are caught between the worlds, and which, as it turned out, I was destined to move on (to where ever it needed to be )… Thanks all for enduring my company thus far.

The Demon In The Room

I awoke that night in a cold dark sweat,
My head pounding, my body wet.
It was plain to see I was some kind of threat
To the demon in the room, so hard beset!

I’d been running at length and needed too rest,
To regain my strength and get back to my best.
“Rooms are all full”, she said, off the cuff,
“‘Cept for one out back, if you’re desperate enough.”

Now, I’m seeing double, my head in a spin,
There’s the strangest feeling in the room I’m in;
Cedar smoke I remember, and the deathly cold,
Before suddenly waking in a full chokehold!

I could feel its hatred, its murderous will,
Its suffocating grip as it went for the kill;
The pall was heavy and cold as lead,
In the room with the demon on top of my head!

Thus enwreathed, I held off doom,
Struggling to breathe in the twilight gloom;
Far away a mighty host
Heard the cry; O’ Holy Ghost!

Out of the whirling, blinding moil,
For a moment then, the thing recoiled;
I seized the respite and began to declare,
The most sacred of names and pure of prayers!

Looking for a place to lay my head,
I stumbled onto a succubus instead;
No one had ever made it through a single night,
No one had ever had the stomach for a fight!

As the night wore on, my strength increased;
Its assaults were absorbed and then released.
It had no answer to the Holy Name;
No trespass offering, no blood payment came.

By dawn its world had been displaced,
Its bed despoiled, its bower disgraced;
Finally accepting all that it feared,
With an angry fist it disappeared.

I slept the next day and all the next night,
I slept like a babe till the morning light.
When at last they came with water and bread;
“Can’t believe you’re alive”, was all they said.

Well, the moon was high on the night they wed,
Till her lover was killed in this very bed.
On him she stored what wealth she had,
In days long gone, before these last so bad…

I’d been running at length and needed to rest,
Regain my strength, get back to my best.
“This one’s on the house”, she said in her way,
As I thanked her and left, blessing the day.

I’ve lifted the following four short poems from The Saker’s
Moveable Feast Cafe, circa January, 2021. The lines flowed
forth from a number of friends who took up my suggested
exercise of writing a short poem about love.

teranam 13

Love as a Verb

Love is not trite –
beats not its own drum –
silently does what needs
to be done.

At times it is tough
doing what’s best,
When Robin kicks
Junior, out of the nest

Anonymous

love’s homework

how fine are these new verses two
that do what’s right for me and you

and love cannot be trite
manifesting God’s might

perfection is all too alone
the fledgeling robin’s flown

onto my garden bower
singing to every flower

roses are red and violets are blue,
two’s company and three are too!

ioan

I’d like to be there
fly around and sing
and that, from all
my love and heart

forgetting sadness, tears,
the loneliness in night

when, at the end at least,
everything is light,
when the residents will be
only kids like you and me.

Dimitar

love is sincere, love is true,
love is the best medicine for you

sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet,
sometimes it’ll knock you off your feet

and just when you think you’ve used it all up…
love will appear and fill your cup!

destiny determines the
conditions at one’s birth,
free will is what we do
with those conditions

no man is ever
completely right,
nor is any man
ever completely wrong

forget the world, become the
king and ruler of your own life

love is not a matter of belief,
but of demonstration

a hairsbreadth of difference
divides heaven and earth

those who love me
love me for what I am,
those who hate me
hate me for what I am not