An ode to devastate an elegy
The words confined to muse
Time spent counting our abuse
Clock hands now in syzygy
Delicate time, the filigree
formed from faceted refuse
Hung from sleeve and nigh accused
clock hands caress soliloquy
But for our stance to be forgotten
and time turned back upon it’s face
the world outside is dull and fractioned
and I fear a fall from [...]
May 29, 2007
Categories: Metrical, Poetry, Sonnet, Technical . . Author: organbone . Comments: Leave a Comment
Implant a man inside the brain
which never was a man
Supplant the lipid gone insane,
a limp incestuous plan
Arrange the seating at the party
whose comp’ny never comes
The party strange and surging hearty
alarmed in dream and surly won
Two doctors useless dancing, paid
to diagnose the indication
Five years manipulate my mainstay
of infernal vindication
And now the machinations of dirty dream
awake to [...]
April 30, 2007
Categories: Metrical, Poetry, Sonnet, Technical . . Author: organbone . Comments: 1 Comment
Bit open lower
lip to keep from feeling pain
of entropic loss.
Watching you watch me
walk away wondering what
either has done wrong.
Sorry you’re sorry
or maybe angry, hurt, done
with dealing with it.
March 7, 2007
Categories: Haiku, Metrical, Poetry, Technical . . Author: organbone . Comments: 1 Comment
301A
Overworked, tired
but up till three playing your
video games hard.
I cant stay still in
my room, instead, I’ll stay in
someone else’s room
301B
Humorous, nervous,
and random interjection.
Smile like you’re not here;
Ten miles tall and just
as loud, cocked eyebrow, knife tongue
tickling and biting!
301C
Library tan and
laboratory humor, book
nosed, laughs open-armed.
Brooding eyes smile, age-
laden happiness, subtle
rock star in sheep’s clothes,
301D
Silent stone and [...]
December 11, 2006
Categories: Haiku, Metrical, Poetry, Technical . . Author: organbone . Comments: Leave a Comment
Your hips sometimes move
like a flamenco dancer
and I am afraid
of someone cutting
in to steal our dance alone.
The tiger’s eye ring
wrapped- like my hand around
yours- around your small
marriage finger reminds
me of your gold ring on mine.
The cigarette I
promised not to smoke (since it
takes away the years
I promised to you) is now
crushed underfoot, gone unsmoked.
September 18, 2006
Categories: Metrical, Poetry, Tanka, Technical . . Author: organbone . Comments: Leave a Comment