Double-Words

Double-Words
Here is a list of Double-Words to use to make a poem. Select only 20 duble-words from my list below. I will allow 2 poems per person in this challenge. So lets have some fun with your poem.
1.Ill-Treat
2.Dutch-Treat
3.Dead-Meat
4.Winter-Clad
5.Goose-Egg
6.Two-Edge
7.Canterbury-Bell
8.Woolly-Head
9.Second-Rate
10.Freckle-Face
11.Slow-Paced
12.Hour-Glass
13.Fairy-Tale
14.Chimney-Sweep
15.Bo-Peep
16.Honey-Sweet
17.Sparrow-Grass
18.Resting-Place
19.Weeping-Tree
20.Meadow-Sweet
21.Blink-eyed
22.Rainbow-Tinted
23.Soar-Falcon
24.Master-Hand
25.Tragi-Comic
26.Terror-Smitten
27.Hunger-Bitten
28.Pigeon-Livered
29.Death-Damp
30.Death-Warrant
31.Good-Marrow
32.Chimney-Corner
33.Thunder-Showers
34.Powder-Monkey
35.Dead-Day
36.Judgement-Day
37.Leaden-Gray
38.Passion-Play
39.Water-Crane
40.Abbey-Lsnd
41.Stage-Whisper
42.Toll-Man
43.Beacon-Tower
44.Wonder-Song
45.Head-Hunting
46.Reed-Bunting
47.Seer-Seeker
48.Swash-Buckler
49.Master-Spirit
50.Chapel-Royal

Bo-Peep





Underneath a meadow-sweet,
is incomplete without a weeping-tree.
What a nice resting-place in the sparrow-grass,
so honey-sweet.

Bo-peep lost her sheep and comes in a chimney-sweep.



A fairy-tale set in an hour-glass,
by a slow-paced, freckled-faced, second-rate, woolly-head.

The canterbury-bell towed upon the hill,
for the two-edge goose-egg in winter-clad.



Waiting for the judgement-day of dead-meat to eat,
that was a dutch-treat,
not a ill-treat.

 
By starstruck13


© 2010 starstruck13 (All rights reserved)

wow starstruck, you put a lot of time and effort into this comp.
good girl

thank you muggle

Irony

"Stare at her, deep
ill-treat her, like dead-meat.
Her love is invisible;
like a knife-two-edge and second-rate,
blunt and slow-paced.
The hour-glass slips
Life! It's no fairy-tale
with honey-sweet drippings.
It's no rabbit hole, no resting-place.
It's primordial, bizarre.
Look at her, dour;
a weeping-tree-gaunt,
under the sky-rainbow-tinted,
with clusters of estoiles.
Such a tragi-comic tale!
Look at her eyes-terror-smitten;
look at her cheeks, hunger-bitten;
she stands, her head bent and shoulders stooped
like it's judgment-day.
No more passion-play
After all you are no seer-seeker
or no horse mounted swash-buckler.
Not even some master-spirit
with your zen in a bubble.
You are a shadow, a blur; freckle-face
You are a fiend, blink-eyed
And she is a nude model
on the stolen potrait."

*Stream of consciousness piece.
Not sure about the spelling
of estoiles.

On netherworld's threshold

On golden sands I stand
Looking towards Rainbow-Tinted
Skies, so vast above so high
There shapes of spirits fly
A soar-falcon, surely
So colourful like a butterfly

Putting up my hands
I touch the falling colours
Of dusts, created by a Master-hand
Swirling worlds in creation
I watch the Passion-Play
Of flowering life in motion

Fluid golden songs ululating
Down valleys of crimson
Voices affirming life
In a Stage-Whisper
Leaden-Gray rocks above
Form sombre grim canopies

This side of forever
A created Resting-Place
For unknown gods, maybe a tired sojourner
Awaiting the Judgement-Day
Yet basking in Thunder-Showers
Celebrating this dark existence

For where goes a poet’s mind
But in Meadow-Sweet
Where all live entwine
In life in love in rest, asleep
A land without Terror-Smitten
Hearts, dreading a Dead-Day

Would that towards the East
A  Honey-Sweet Knight
A dream now, a beloved stranger
Would gallop up like a Fairy-Tale
Prince, on his stallion riding proud
And sweep me off forever

This willowy Weeping-Tree
Where I wait patiently
Will become a precious memory
Two-Edge in its existence
For a while I will wait
And repose on this Sparrow-Grass

In this land of forever,
I watch the Hour-Glass
Where bursts of Love’s colours
Swirls, and births blooms,
Souls in new deaths return,
Creations of new universe
Ever swirls in sweet new inceptions

Slow-Paced life, it seems
That again returns for another round
But in this land of Forever
The Hunger-Bitten does not stay
Nor the Pigeon-Livered
They thrive for rewards, for Nirvana

summit
i liked your take on these double-words almost like taking a breath of fresh air

idryad
loved your lines you performed a wonderful poem using these double-words

Dementia's laments

I live again to relive the pain
the time when love became
my Death-Warrant
turning me into this woman

If only there were things like
a Good-Marrow
I would sit at the Chimney-Corner
and enjoy the Thunder-Showers

I feel like a Powder-Monkey though
Sitting inert in this Dead-Day
Awaiting a tired Judgement-Day
Looking out to a sky of Leaden-Gray

In my past the Passion-Play
that took over my innocence
Like a Water-Crane  plunging and thrusting
nothing loud, only in a Stage-Whisper

It was  the Toll-Man
that collected his due
raped this body, soiled this mind
that became a Beacon-Tower for sex

I wish I could trill a Wonder-Song
Instead of silently Head-Hunting
Creating illusive Reed-Bunting
In this sad and tired mind

I would like to meet a Seer-Seeker
Or a Swash-Buckler ...
But the Master-Spirit most of all
I will meet him at the Chapel-Royal
in the sky

idyad
another awesome poem submitted by you

Among the Meadow-Sweet
Stands a Weeping-tree
Ginger hair Freckle-face beauty
I approached Slow-paced
Wrapped my arms around her hour-glass shape
As Rainbow-tinted tears fall fast
Merging with Death-damp in winter-clad
She speaks in a stage-whisper
Of her death-day the end of our fairy-tale
Then my whole world turned leaden-gray
Thunder-showers fall from these eyes
As I curse the Master-spirit
Like a master-hand her mere finger stops the falling storm
Allowing me to hear the wonder-song
She sings smiling reflecting a Canterbury-bell
Honey-sweet lips embracing my own
We decide to go home
Dear Judgment-Day we won’t stop running
This death-warrant is nothing
In the shadow of our love

october arts
i feel in your poem you used the double words wisley

Dead-day

Story time for the innocent and young
I want you to imagine a placid fairy-tale
Think of the princess on her wedding day
Honey-sweet as she draws down her pure white veil

But outside the window… thunder-showers
Leaden-grey clouds to corrupt your soul
Distorting the light from the beacon-tower
Did she ignore the black death-warrant?

Of course she did, caught up in the carnal passion-play
Everything else became second-rate  
Hunger-bitten she let him feast
Terror-smitten she became a wraith

But how could the sand have emptied so fast?
The hour-glass was full when the story first began
Judgment-day waits for no weak mind
Slow-paced just isn’t one of it’s traits

We could stage-whisper and pretend it all away
Seer-seeker? Fire him, no more do we wish to play
Bury your head in the glistening past shed sand
Head-hunting fails when there’s none to be found

Oh sorry, I forgot you’re only a child
I never meant to ill-treat you, that wasn’t nice
I could tell you the princess is in her peaceful resting-place
But that would make me a horrible liar

She claimed too much, gave too much
Master-spirit came to collect
That is why this tale is fatefully called…

Dead-day.

mask-wearer
a good use of the double words used in this poem

My Lost Love    

I remember
my honey-sweet
freckle-faced
by the weeping-tree
gone days of rainbow -tinted
the years since
have just sprinted
we were young
but master-spirited
where have you gone
you used to live in
the meadow-sweet .

I was your friend
good-marrow
you were my guide
my beacon-tower  
and then you died
my lovely flower
blink-eyed
I cried through years
for hours
leaden-day
with thunder-showers
a death-warrant came
like head-hunting cowards .

No more sun rays
death-damp a dead-day
a gone wonder-song
we used to play
it's just so wrong
a judgement-day
could come along
and steal you away

No more smiling face
end of passion-play
the fairy-tale ended
at your resting-place
the grave is small
and since has aged
it's no chapel-royal
but at peace here you lay .