“ What Price Serenity ” ~ for quietude I seek ~

My wants,

More self-indulgent                       

Than essential

Be dwindling now,

As I compose

To thus appease,

A mind at times

Neglectfully in need…

 

I’d worried some

Of human habits

I struggle to let go,                                      

This mortal urge

That one so finds                                          

Bent still akin

To Babbitt kind,

The while hardly

Be sufficient time

To nourish soul,

Now meagrely mine…

 

Hence hasten I

To now replace

All glitters false,

That I may face,

Lest suffer risk

The quietude I seek,

No matter be

This price one paid

Alas to gain serenity!

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“ Amity ” ~ of a kind ~

I look for words

That reach,

To help me find

Amity alter time,

Enough to assign

A brutal world

Grow less unkind…

 

Words I may find,

Could so discern

Amity of a kind,

Would so touch man

To finally be as one,

Hence to bind a lifetime!

“ Dreams for Reasons ” ~ of phantasmagoric delight ~

 

If you can reach

Beyond reality,

To thus so dream

With cerebral acuity,

You may transcend

Wonted portend,

In out of person                                                          

Sleep nocturnal,

If operose plight

Leaves you contrite,

In nightmares lined

With shades of night,

And issue begs

Be rid of fretful sights,

You might extol

Such dreams

Held ever bold,

Be screened

From light of day,

And duly purged

From nightly dreams,

Whose phantasmagoric lean

Meant be our night’s delight!

                                                                              ode to Edgar Allan Poe

 

“ Agonies ” ~ of an aspiring poet ~

 

 

Words swirl round

A restive head,

Like leaves scatter

On autumn winds,

As reach I in vain

To save words thin

From ensuing rain,

As I awake to tears

Lo threaten blur

Words I propose,

Thought cogent prose…

 

Hence agonize

To give words life,

Probing to shape

Morphologically,

As in a duel of fate

Each dubious choice,

Be cause poem unfolds…

 

Whilst I persist

To disgorge such,

The like express

Words nobly knit,

Tho they oft trap

Rather than flow,

Or eke in anguish

Desperate whispers,

Of an aspiring poet!