The Dread Pirate Buttercup

A Voyage of Existential Comfort

Upon Blue Sheets

Image

My body laid upon blue sheets

like maps of my world

 

You build upon me

Rolling, unrolling

a corner,

until frayed.

 

My Mecca,

in which your passion,

your future,

could lie.

 

Extravagant curves,

bends,

stairs that lead to

only you know.

 

Never finished,

never fully realized.

Always a secret

 

passageway here

 

My body laid upon blue sheets

 

Its edges

worn from use.

A warm feeling through

out.

 

You will someday

complete

All that I would ever be.

 

Written so very long ago …….

Chessmen

I am in to games and nostalgia today. Another lovely memory ,from another lovely writer.

Poesy plus Polemics

I learned the game
from a Cuban boy
near the copper-green
cast of Liberty’s robe

where his family
of chemists
fled ass over teakettle
north to escape

from Fidel’s
fatal handcuffs
the father now swept
iron shavings

from factory floors
so the son could
become engineer
and my tutor

their story was newer
but nonetheless
similar hearkening
to my own parents

who fled in an
earlier time
not from jailers but
abject privation

the boy taught me well
and to this very day
more than fifty years
hence when I

contemplate chessmen
I ask myself
what would
Antonio do

 

 

(originally posted November 2013)

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Behind the Meeples: The Scofflaw Story (PT. 1)

Great piece on the passion of games. This one took me back.

The Impervious Scofflaw

My investigation into the popularity of board games begins here.

We’ll start from the very beginning (a very good place to start) and as close to home as I can get – my own relationship with games over the past 28 years.

The Beginning (Age 3-8)

I learned to read super early – I was reading independently by the age of three.  I mention this not to brag, but to shed some light on exactly how long stories and the written word have been a part of my worldview.

I was the kid reading by himself on the playground.   And, to a degree, I liked it that way.  Sure, I would have liked the other kids to talk to me (without making fun), but there was just something so amazing and magical about the other worlds where books transported me.

My social development took a little coaxing. Even…

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Fibonacci Sequence 2

Black Magic!!! Dark Poetry Arts!! So many feels on this poem .

Poesy plus Polemics

fibonacci spiral

Fibonacci 8

Buy
No
Excuse
For more than
The cost of failure

Fibonacci 9

Run
For
Your life
Or perish
From apathetic
Self-satisfied citizenry

Fibonacci 10

Black
Curse
Befalls
Anyone
Crossing the shadows
Dragons cast upon moonlit grounds
Where not even magic of wizards can rescue you

Fibonacci 11

Purge
From
Your veins
Infectious
Hedonist microbes
Before they consume a new soul
Inflicting the pain of pleasure and lost compassion
Leaving a humanoid husk of intractable selfishness, courting catastrophe

Fibonacci 12

Cut
Swaths
Bravely
Through jungles
Dark with ignorance
Overgrown with choking tendrils
That bind up the intellect, stunting development
Of mechanisms for perfecting mind, body and soul of the whole human being,
Reducing mankind to a race of idiot drones, unable to fend for themselves beyond filling bellies from accidental harvests

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Complicated Measures – Billy Ramsell

This makes my word muscles ache. I love the metaphysics of it. This is why I love poetry!!

poetry by skull

Today is National Poetry Day, so I have decided to break from the norm of spouting my own creations and instead share with you some of my favourite poetry. Billy Ramsell, a fellow Irish poet, is truly a master of his craft and anyone with an interest in poetry would do well to read his work. If you would like to find out more about him, you can find his website here.

Picture 3
We were in bed together listening to Lyric,
to a special about the Russians,
when the tanks rolled into Babylon.

For a second I could feel their engines,
and the desert floor vibrating,
in the radio’s bass rattling your bedroom
as the drums expanded at the centre of the Leningrad,
as those sinister cellos invaded the melody.

We’d been trying, for the hell of it,
to speak our own tongue
and I was banging on about Iberia…

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Word worlds

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Hot coffee, Hot tea

It all pleases me

A writer’s

Delight-ers

I make soft rhymes

mine

words are my sugar

commas, my cream.

 

All of my writing

and comfort moonlighting

is peppered with

hot ‘postrophes.

 

So for all my companions

Keats

Carrolls

Sir Gaiman

 

A tip of

My

comma-spliced

herbal spiced tea

 

Word fun with Scofflaw!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In case of these three

Image

In case of these three things

I am not myself

I am yet another

I am everyone else

Break…

Ode To Something Great

Lavender,

warm earth and Petrichor

got her through the church’s door

Played Heaven’s thoughts upon her

a part as ruin’s daughter

Claimed by the war of Fathers

So Lavender I brought her

   

A great-great something

Something great indeed

   

Betrays an author’s hidden heart

Breath relieved of words,

with speed,

with ink,

the truth of love

Coffee colored pages of

Dust, I turn them into art

To earth instead she fell

some years later

Brings the smell

Lavender

warm earth and Petrichor

So sweet,

The least that I can bring to her

To rest

upon her feet .

In response to weekly writing challenge

poem- the other place

I am so excited about the Awesome Poems and poets I have found since beginning this Blog a week ago. I feel like if I had only know sooner. Then I think ahh yes but you are here now. So enjoy with me. One of my favorites of the day.

Shawn L. Bird

I’m making this up as I go along

You in the other place

Singing echoing off the walls

in an imaginary  paradise.

You in the other place

Eden entwined between

sheets and dreams

making it up as we go along

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Inherited

I love this poem. I feel like each stanza peels away, Much like the idea the poem itself addresses.

Listen for the Reverb

Plain stripes;
Damask of blue;
Floral repeating pattern;
Wider stripes in green;
Fern leaves overlapping.
Layers of wallpaper hidden
for years, left as a lazy
reminder. One piled onto
another in a mesh of history.
Drag a nail deep enough,
carving through a family
and then another to reach
the final image.
Revealed only to the one
determined to look closely.

This was a part of my Three Random Words project using the words “carving, mesh, wallpaper” and it was inspired by the range of wallpaper that you see in National Trust properties, in particular how all of the layers have built up over time and the history that each layer must have seen.

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