Submissions by LeMuseNoir
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
When it comes to writing poetry- I am rather like Mark Twain- for I tend to "follow the cat of inclination".
SELF POEM
Published
12th Mar 2013 7:10pm
12th Mar 2013 7:10pm
Self Examination with Slight Recrimination
Dedicated to - Know Thyself - for reminding me that the "who" is just as important as the "why"
I took apart my clockwork head
To see what makes me tick
Examined every nut and bolt
The large- the small - the thin and thick
Tinkering with every single cog
From large to lilliputian
Searching among mechanical stuffs
For spiritual solution
Springs and axles
Sharp toothed gears
All in gleaming array
Tight wound springs of hopes and fears
Hardwired into my days
I started in to probing
With fingers...
I took apart my clockwork head
To see what makes me tick
Examined every nut and bolt
The large- the small - the thin and thick
Tinkering with every single cog
From large to lilliputian
Searching among mechanical stuffs
For spiritual solution
Springs and axles
Sharp toothed gears
All in gleaming array
Tight wound springs of hopes and fears
Hardwired into my days
I started in to probing
With fingers...
1012 reads
11 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 11:48pm
10th Mar 2013 11:48pm
On the human skull who sits on the shelf overlooking my computer
Deadication - For my favorite "zenmind headskull poet- Dan X
There you sit - day after day-
I suppose I take you a bit for granted
But I suppose that can't be helped
Been together almost thirty years now
You and I-
Which makes you -- I suppose --
My single longest successful relationship
--- sigh ----
And yet I know so little of you
I know - of course - how you
Came to be with me
Christmas gift from my friend
Barre
Found you- according to him
In a small out of the way
Junk shop in
Chicago-
And he has never...
There you sit - day after day-
I suppose I take you a bit for granted
But I suppose that can't be helped
Been together almost thirty years now
You and I-
Which makes you -- I suppose --
My single longest successful relationship
--- sigh ----
And yet I know so little of you
I know - of course - how you
Came to be with me
Christmas gift from my friend
Barre
Found you- according to him
In a small out of the way
Junk shop in
Chicago-
And he has never...
914 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Mar 2013 10:04pm
9th Mar 2013 10:04pm
Lines for Paul
Oh my poor sad Quixote
I fear dolorous times
For you
Poor mad La Mancha
The arms of the Inquistion
Are long
Their judgements harsh
And their dungeons
Deep and cold
Though not I fear
As the one
Where you already dwell
She was not saintly Dulcinea
Nor sinful Aldonza
For both are gone
Long and long
Lost in the mists
Of time and memory
Sad knight errant
your vision now
Not dream
But nightmare
Only Sancho left
Who cannot excuse
Nor heal
But can understand
That dreams
With their radiance...
I fear dolorous times
For you
Poor mad La Mancha
The arms of the Inquistion
Are long
Their judgements harsh
And their dungeons
Deep and cold
Though not I fear
As the one
Where you already dwell
She was not saintly Dulcinea
Nor sinful Aldonza
For both are gone
Long and long
Lost in the mists
Of time and memory
Sad knight errant
your vision now
Not dream
But nightmare
Only Sancho left
Who cannot excuse
Nor heal
But can understand
That dreams
With their radiance...
764 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Mar 2013 9:05pm
6th Mar 2013 9:05pm
An Odd Day
This morning for the first time in a long time,
Yet more frequently than I care to realize,
When I searched for the door I couldn't find it.
The ivy too thickly grown - I suppose,
Or perhaps I've lost the knack.
Not that it matters anyway
For I seem to have misplaced the key.
And, come to think on it,
The robin has been strangely quiet of late.
I wandered far and wide - searched the entire wood
Hoping to find that one tree.
You know, the one with the crude sign
That reads -"Mr. Saunders".
Funny- I thought I knew the way so...
Yet more frequently than I care to realize,
When I searched for the door I couldn't find it.
The ivy too thickly grown - I suppose,
Or perhaps I've lost the knack.
Not that it matters anyway
For I seem to have misplaced the key.
And, come to think on it,
The robin has been strangely quiet of late.
I wandered far and wide - searched the entire wood
Hoping to find that one tree.
You know, the one with the crude sign
That reads -"Mr. Saunders".
Funny- I thought I knew the way so...
663 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
3rd Mar 2013 10:15pm
3rd Mar 2013 10:15pm
a selection from - RUEBI LIPZ - A Tale of Gin, Jazz, and Murder
The Ruebi Room, which could comfortably hold roughly sixty patrons, was jammed with at least eighty, for it was Satyrday night, and nearing ten p.m. - and the flotsamed and jetsamed denizens of the "low-class" end of Queensville were reaching the frenzied point of trying to find something- anything- in an attempt to distract themselves from the recognition that their lives were made of-and for- ordinariness.
The hum and buzz of the meaningless words of too many people, all competeing to say nothing at the same time, set the very air of the over-crowded room thrumming. The...
The hum and buzz of the meaningless words of too many people, all competeing to say nothing at the same time, set the very air of the over-crowded room thrumming. The...
858 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2013 6:10pm
2nd Mar 2013 6:10pm
Love In Red Mesh Bags
Love is yellow
Not pink or red
Not blue like in that song
Not purple like passion
Love is yellow-
A long time ago - a different century-
Thursday night - 9ish
Supper done - books out - big test tomorrow
Econ- (arrgh!)
Suddenly there comes a tapping-
Raven?
Door on chain - face in crack
Man-
Stranger - but not mysterious
"Hi - this is going to sound weird-"
O.k.
"Is this you?"
Holds out magazine - open to "letters" page
"Wow - I didn't know about this."
"So it is...
Not pink or red
Not blue like in that song
Not purple like passion
Love is yellow-
A long time ago - a different century-
Thursday night - 9ish
Supper done - books out - big test tomorrow
Econ- (arrgh!)
Suddenly there comes a tapping-
Raven?
Door on chain - face in crack
Man-
Stranger - but not mysterious
"Hi - this is going to sound weird-"
O.k.
"Is this you?"
Holds out magazine - open to "letters" page
"Wow - I didn't know about this."
"So it is...
929 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Mar 2013 4:24am
1st Mar 2013 4:24am
ALL THE PROUD YOUNG HORSES
Dedication - To Kexby & Jessop for the reminder and the inspiration
Pa will be 95 come St.Patrick's-
More time behind than ahead.
"Don't buy me no green bananas!" he says.
Spends alot of time with his memory-
"Best friend a man can have at my age."
"Never talks back -and remembers everthing the same as I do."
A lot of memories of a young man working on a farm-
A young man with a strong back, a stronger will, and a pair of matched horses.
I've heard it all before of course,
Pard - the plodding one - Joe - the...
Pa will be 95 come St.Patrick's-
More time behind than ahead.
"Don't buy me no green bananas!" he says.
Spends alot of time with his memory-
"Best friend a man can have at my age."
"Never talks back -and remembers everthing the same as I do."
A lot of memories of a young man working on a farm-
A young man with a strong back, a stronger will, and a pair of matched horses.
I've heard it all before of course,
Pard - the plodding one - Joe - the...
998 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
28th Feb 2013 1:54am
28th Feb 2013 1:54am
Verse Vampiric
There is a night so black, so deep, darker than is death or sleep.
Midnight hours, on and on, bereft of stars, devoid of dawn.
An endless, seamless, sable void, of nightmares born and dreams destroyed.
There is a grief that will endure beyond the tomb and sepulcher.
A mirrored hallway where will pass, unreflected in the glass
Formless ghosts of memory, in silence, towards eternity.
There is a solitude so vast it spans both the future and the past.
Of such an overwhelming scope, it stifles joy and withers hope.
Midst an endless sea, an isle of stone -...
Midnight hours, on and on, bereft of stars, devoid of dawn.
An endless, seamless, sable void, of nightmares born and dreams destroyed.
There is a grief that will endure beyond the tomb and sepulcher.
A mirrored hallway where will pass, unreflected in the glass
Formless ghosts of memory, in silence, towards eternity.
There is a solitude so vast it spans both the future and the past.
Of such an overwhelming scope, it stifles joy and withers hope.
Midst an endless sea, an isle of stone -...
996 reads
9 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
26th Feb 2013 7:47am
26th Feb 2013 7:47am
Songs for Deaf Ears
Oh, children of the night, how you sing-
Howl and gnash your teeth.
Trying to scream down the moon
Until your tender throats bleed.
But the moon has not moved ----
How you bloody yourselves-
Tearing at tender flesh with ink-stained fingers.
Signifying something -- but what?
Confusion? - Compunction? - Contrition?
Your melody resonates - but the lyrics escape me.
What is it you sing - of? - for? - about? -
Seek you the hidden door to Midian?
Long for sinister transubstantiation,
The communion of the damned,
Hemlock cup - the...
Howl and gnash your teeth.
Trying to scream down the moon
Until your tender throats bleed.
But the moon has not moved ----
How you bloody yourselves-
Tearing at tender flesh with ink-stained fingers.
Signifying something -- but what?
Confusion? - Compunction? - Contrition?
Your melody resonates - but the lyrics escape me.
What is it you sing - of? - for? - about? -
Seek you the hidden door to Midian?
Long for sinister transubstantiation,
The communion of the damned,
Hemlock cup - the...
891 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Feb 2013 9:03pm
25th Feb 2013 9:03pm
Decisions - Decisions--
Shall I cast my nighted colors off,
Set aside the pleurant shroud?
Dress myself in cap and bells,
Attire my frame in motley proud?
But would those who know me best prefer
To see me thus transformed to jongleur?
Shall I be but whimsy's fool,
And full capricious so cavort?
Rather than with solemn step
And doleful march make my transport?
But, wil'st my feet not find it hard
To change funeral march to galliard?
For my play is in the final act,
Is it not too late to change the show?
To take up now the rogue Falstaff...
Set aside the pleurant shroud?
Dress myself in cap and bells,
Attire my frame in motley proud?
But would those who know me best prefer
To see me thus transformed to jongleur?
Shall I be but whimsy's fool,
And full capricious so cavort?
Rather than with solemn step
And doleful march make my transport?
But, wil'st my feet not find it hard
To change funeral march to galliard?
For my play is in the final act,
Is it not too late to change the show?
To take up now the rogue Falstaff...
692 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Feb 2013 6:02am
25th Feb 2013 6:02am
Just Asking
Do they still hail thee bright spirit who walks in beauty like the night?
Compare thee to a summer's day who was a phantom of delight?
Does boy still stand on burning deck whilst all around have fled?
Does there-on still my captain lie fallen cold and dead?
Does Kubli Khan in Xanadu still live in pleasure dome?
And be it ever humble is there still no place like home?
Can one wander lonely as a cloud midst crosses row on row
While daffodils and poppies there still do dance and blow?
Do'st sweet Afton yet gently flow by the road to Mandalay?
Does Sally in our...
Compare thee to a summer's day who was a phantom of delight?
Does boy still stand on burning deck whilst all around have fled?
Does there-on still my captain lie fallen cold and dead?
Does Kubli Khan in Xanadu still live in pleasure dome?
And be it ever humble is there still no place like home?
Can one wander lonely as a cloud midst crosses row on row
While daffodils and poppies there still do dance and blow?
Do'st sweet Afton yet gently flow by the road to Mandalay?
Does Sally in our...
767 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Feb 2013 2:56am
24th Feb 2013 2:56am
Carpe Veritas
If rhyme and time and youth were mine
And my looks more "Ganymedic"-
Then I too might well eschew
These few lines as comedic.
For youth and truth- alas- forsooth-
Are not served in equal measures.
Surging hormones and erogenous zones
Oft blind us to subtler pleasures.
Cast not then away pearls of yesterday
In favor of today's new bright bangles.
Nor heart ignore whilst you explore
That which swells and throbs and dangles.
There's one single thing to which I cling
And recite it as my credo.
There are more things...
And my looks more "Ganymedic"-
Then I too might well eschew
These few lines as comedic.
For youth and truth- alas- forsooth-
Are not served in equal measures.
Surging hormones and erogenous zones
Oft blind us to subtler pleasures.
Cast not then away pearls of yesterday
In favor of today's new bright bangles.
Nor heart ignore whilst you explore
That which swells and throbs and dangles.
There's one single thing to which I cling
And recite it as my credo.
There are more things...
747 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by LeMuseNoir
