Submissions by Misconducted
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 10:56pm
16th Jul 2010 10:56pm
Haiku collection
Greetings from Ronda,
Earnest. The green hills belie
The ring where bulls die.
-
Tourists take the first
Path. "South Panoramic Site";
A quiet(er) respite.
Earnest. The green hills belie
The ring where bulls die.
-
Tourists take the first
Path. "South Panoramic Site";
A quiet(er) respite.
709 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 10:54pm
16th Jul 2010 10:54pm
brevitas
Gothic
Of crucifix, in pride of place,
Of stainéd glass, and greying stone,
Of autumn wind, and white pall-lace.
Oh, to be here, and be alone.
-
What riches lie beyond the veil,
When hands grow cold, and skin grows pale?
The only wealth that follows you
Is a heart, happy, free and true.
-
A Hillscape
Swifts array
In sleek diplay
O'er shaded halls,
Arboreal.
-
For Adrian
For admonition, tender-wrought,
For never-tiring heed,
For mindful help whenever sought;
My best...
Of crucifix, in pride of place,
Of stainéd glass, and greying stone,
Of autumn wind, and white pall-lace.
Oh, to be here, and be alone.
-
What riches lie beyond the veil,
When hands grow cold, and skin grows pale?
The only wealth that follows you
Is a heart, happy, free and true.
-
A Hillscape
Swifts array
In sleek diplay
O'er shaded halls,
Arboreal.
-
For Adrian
For admonition, tender-wrought,
For never-tiring heed,
For mindful help whenever sought;
My best...
#gothic
#sea
#moon #nature
#moon #nature
2845 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 2:19pm
16th Jul 2010 2:19pm
Ode to a Passing Dawn
Why look! See there; the dawning-sun;
A-shimm'ring red, and gold,
Planting diamonds in the clouds like
Jewelléd crowns of old?
Those clouds, they hold nothing but rain,
The sun, it burns my eyes.
Don't mock me with these jewels you see,
Alighting in the skies.
Oh why so bitter, dearest friend?
Can you not share with me
The celeste joys abound above,
That I am wont to see?
There is no joy; while it is day
And thus we're kept apart,
There's nothing in the heavens that
Can reconcile my heart.
That only we were...
A-shimm'ring red, and gold,
Planting diamonds in the clouds like
Jewelléd crowns of old?
Those clouds, they hold nothing but rain,
The sun, it burns my eyes.
Don't mock me with these jewels you see,
Alighting in the skies.
Oh why so bitter, dearest friend?
Can you not share with me
The celeste joys abound above,
That I am wont to see?
There is no joy; while it is day
And thus we're kept apart,
There's nothing in the heavens that
Can reconcile my heart.
That only we were...
977 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 2:17pm
16th Jul 2010 2:17pm
I want it back
I want it back!
I claimed as much.
But did they listen?
No.
Apparently
When I'm stuck here
It's what they say
That goes.
And though you'd think
That maybe I
Could just follow
The tracks
Through concepts
And ideas
Then I'd find
My own way back?
Alas, I fear
A route so simple's
Simply not
The case;
It seems to me
That now it's only
Doomed to go
To waste.
What could they want
With it anyway?
I can think of
Nought.
Cruel muses,
Please return to me...
I claimed as much.
But did they listen?
No.
Apparently
When I'm stuck here
It's what they say
That goes.
And though you'd think
That maybe I
Could just follow
The tracks
Through concepts
And ideas
Then I'd find
My own way back?
Alas, I fear
A route so simple's
Simply not
The case;
It seems to me
That now it's only
Doomed to go
To waste.
What could they want
With it anyway?
I can think of
Nought.
Cruel muses,
Please return to me...
986 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 00:04am
16th Jul 2010 00:04am
Two Steeds
Frothing homeland-chesnut mare,
Ablaze-perspiring in the heat
And shimm'ring, Godless desert air
Misses the earth beneath its feet.
Palest palfrey-majesty,
Bedeck't in glimm'ring barding bright
Belies his lord's integrity
With steady-mounting battle fright.
A response to both Adrian Blamires' "Cavalry Miniatures" and "Two Swords". I heartily reccomend you read both.
Ablaze-perspiring in the heat
And shimm'ring, Godless desert air
Misses the earth beneath its feet.
Palest palfrey-majesty,
Bedeck't in glimm'ring barding bright
Belies his lord's integrity
With steady-mounting battle fright.
A response to both Adrian Blamires' "Cavalry Miniatures" and "Two Swords". I heartily reccomend you read both.
794 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Jul 2010 00:02am
16th Jul 2010 00:02am
Retirement
It's on the news; another dead
Suicide bomber - in his bed
His time expired.
Life was better when he was young,
Before he had retired.
Suicide bomber - in his bed
His time expired.
Life was better when he was young,
Before he had retired.
807 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Jul 2010 10:31pm
14th Jul 2010 10:31pm
How do you dare?
"How do you dare?" He asks her thrice,
And turns unsteadily around.
"Drunk as I am, that is no vice,
No crime, to match that awful sound
Crept from your lips within his arms.
Your fleeting faith belies your charms.
Call yourself fair?"
And turns unsteadily around.
"Drunk as I am, that is no vice,
No crime, to match that awful sound
Crept from your lips within his arms.
Your fleeting faith belies your charms.
Call yourself fair?"
786 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jul 2010 10:26pm
14th Jul 2010 10:26pm
Ruins and Remains
Skeletal, concentric arches
Ricocheting birdsong sings from.
Rubble, cold on dew-drop't grasses.
Ever present, ghostly birdsong.
Phantasms of fog eternal
Haunt the ruined amphitheatre;
Man, ephemeral, autumnal;
Shades of the stage's creator.
Delphic oracles surround me,
Striding from the cloying mists where
Druids, garbed in papal vestry
Scream civilisation's whisper.
Still the doves and wrens alight though,
Deft, on pillars cleft in twain, and,
Heedless of the seeds that man's sown,
Brush so gently by my shy hand....
Ricocheting birdsong sings from.
Rubble, cold on dew-drop't grasses.
Ever present, ghostly birdsong.
Phantasms of fog eternal
Haunt the ruined amphitheatre;
Man, ephemeral, autumnal;
Shades of the stage's creator.
Delphic oracles surround me,
Striding from the cloying mists where
Druids, garbed in papal vestry
Scream civilisation's whisper.
Still the doves and wrens alight though,
Deft, on pillars cleft in twain, and,
Heedless of the seeds that man's sown,
Brush so gently by my shy hand....
886 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Jul 2010 4:50pm
13th Jul 2010 4:50pm
Garage-iad
Time and fickle fate I sing,
And the luck that they to mortals bring.
Oh ancient muses guide me well
As Virgil did through Dante's Hell.
Calliope your lyre play
And rouse your kin Melpomené
That my tale might be justly told;
Of great despair, in days of old.
That curséd morn, when sun uprist
And the fair land of Britain kiss'd,
Revealed a fated, woeful one
Who, in misfortune scorned the Sun.
The aegis of the 'Garage'-land
Did he pound with accursed hand.
Oh damnéd fate! Oh gods above!
Ruled over by almighty Jove!
Oh...
And the luck that they to mortals bring.
Oh ancient muses guide me well
As Virgil did through Dante's Hell.
Calliope your lyre play
And rouse your kin Melpomené
That my tale might be justly told;
Of great despair, in days of old.
That curséd morn, when sun uprist
And the fair land of Britain kiss'd,
Revealed a fated, woeful one
Who, in misfortune scorned the Sun.
The aegis of the 'Garage'-land
Did he pound with accursed hand.
Oh damnéd fate! Oh gods above!
Ruled over by almighty Jove!
Oh...
747 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jul 2010 4:49pm
13th Jul 2010 4:49pm
Arms and the Man I sing?
"The sweet piano writing down my life"
Contends the peaks, the sweeter pinnacle,
For where, in notes, lies ever-ardent strife,
And where, in strife, the gath'ring orchestral?
The languid violin, its solemn song,
It seems at odds with darkling, fog-robed heath.
Where fits the violin on journeys long,
And where, amongst its song, sing swords unsheathed?
The solemn song on tongues of heroes lies,
The rousing chorus in the ardent quest,
For where, but under wanderlust-filled skies
Could such a hallowed inspiration rest?
Contends the peaks, the sweeter pinnacle,
For where, in notes, lies ever-ardent strife,
And where, in strife, the gath'ring orchestral?
The languid violin, its solemn song,
It seems at odds with darkling, fog-robed heath.
Where fits the violin on journeys long,
And where, amongst its song, sing swords unsheathed?
The solemn song on tongues of heroes lies,
The rousing chorus in the ardent quest,
For where, but under wanderlust-filled skies
Could such a hallowed inspiration rest?
1126 reads
13 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
13th Jul 2010 00:14am
13th Jul 2010 00:14am
Not bitter at all...
"No, not bitter at all!" He said,
Scuff of the toe, flick of the head.
Two nods, an uneasy sigh,
Turn on the heel and brisk goodbye.
Streetlamps cut through chill of dusk
While, striding through the shrivelled husks
Of hoar-rimmed leaves, he paces back
And forth, a lonely, bitter track.
"No, not at all!", his mind echoed,
While ever back and forth he strode;
"I hope you find love ever more
In the heart of your precious whore."
Scuff of the toe, flick of the head.
Two nods, an uneasy sigh,
Turn on the heel and brisk goodbye.
Streetlamps cut through chill of dusk
While, striding through the shrivelled husks
Of hoar-rimmed leaves, he paces back
And forth, a lonely, bitter track.
"No, not at all!", his mind echoed,
While ever back and forth he strode;
"I hope you find love ever more
In the heart of your precious whore."
948 reads
5 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
13th Jul 2010 00:12am
13th Jul 2010 00:12am
Christabel Continued
O'er the misty moor most wide
Did Bracy, baron's bard then ride,
As, bidden haste by agéd lord,
He sought, 'fore night could fall again,
To reach the closest river-ford
To the foreign town of Tryermaine.
For when the bard had bidden been,
In his breast he'd felt a swell,
Though born of gaze of Geraldine
Or a passion in his lord he'd seen
It was not within him to tell.
No less, he pressed forth dusky road,
As sun's glow from horizon crept
And to the skies the wan stars leapt;
Last vespers turned to night-bound ode.
His...
Did Bracy, baron's bard then ride,
As, bidden haste by agéd lord,
He sought, 'fore night could fall again,
To reach the closest river-ford
To the foreign town of Tryermaine.
For when the bard had bidden been,
In his breast he'd felt a swell,
Though born of gaze of Geraldine
Or a passion in his lord he'd seen
It was not within him to tell.
No less, he pressed forth dusky road,
As sun's glow from horizon crept
And to the skies the wan stars leapt;
Last vespers turned to night-bound ode.
His...
846 reads
0 Comments
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