Hi all, my apologies for not letting you know beforehand. I left today for vacation and most likely will not be back until Sunday. I may post some writing that I do on the trip once I get back, but I will not be posting again until then. Thanks everybody for reading and sticking with me!
Tag Archives: history
Wanna Get Married?
Afternoon, all. Here I am now, again, sitting here. I am thinking, wondering maybe. Dreaming of dark hair and red lips. Satisfied and unsatisfied, finding not that which I’d like to find when I go looking. Please enjoy the poem, friends.
Some Kind of Relationship
Do you think there’s someone out there?
Someone who just knows where?
They’ve found their place and it’s with you.
Just a table set for two.
An aching, tired body,
battered and bruised.
I sleep as soundly as I can,
for only in my sleep do I heal,
for only in my sleep do I not feel.
As heart it twists and stomach it turns
That feeling inside,
that something that burns.
Forget-me-nots come in with the tide.
The onion-hat of sultans sits so sublimely on his head.
A man who now alone rests among the dead.
Like before I’ve said,
all the gold’s been turned to lead.
Princess On A Train, The Train
Today I have for you the story of a girl on a train. The story of a girl of such ethereal beauty, abundant character, and brazen intellect that one could hardly consider her real. The story of our lady, that one who is champion for us so that we may live again in that kingdom of golden plenty. The story of that girl who is the light when all is in darkness. The story of that one who I only hope that someday I can be compared against in half as favorable a light. Please enjoy the poem today. This one means a lot to me.
Our Lady, The Traveller
So many fears
And so many tears
The story of a girl on the subway
A girl crying on the train
A girl with eyes so vibrant and beautiful
The war for Helen of Troy might seem like a playground spat
Were she now to be the focus
This girl on the subway
With jet black hair
And the fairest of skin
Sweeter than honey
Feeling less than sunny
The days for her
Already long
Grow longer still
She waits for her mind to come home from war
For her love to come knocking at the door
Staring out the window
Seeing stations pass by
She tells herself that little lie
“I’m ok! I’m alright,” she’ll cry,
As her manicured nails dig into her thigh.
Recalcitrant as she is
In her rebellion against the crown
She fears now the forces rallied to her opposition
As their war horns sound
But our lady, my lady
The princess and heir
So beautiful and fair
Those horns that sound
Her allies to her aid
Riding down the mountain in that most righteous cavalcade
That girl crying on the subway
She’ll find the words with which to say,
“I’m ok. I’m alright.”
And on that day,
She’ll have the strength to fight.
Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall In Love
Consider it, my friends. To be in Paris in the 1920s, to escape and find that magic! To take it and bring it back to the present to find yourself and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Take that magic and that majesty you found in the past and apply it to the world at large. Oh, to be in a wonderful world of wizards and sorcerers, casting their magics on pages and canvases and the keys of pianos. What a wonderful world it will be, filled with art and song.
Carnival Comes to Paris
There’s flying and there’s dying
Both ending on the ground
Hearing that one final sound
Make refuge there, in burial mound
A man in a three-piece suit
Playing the piano
Can’t help but fall in love
Fly away, little dove
All affairs fair at the fair, long as you can pay the fare
Car broke down
Grab the spare
It’s a long way back to town
One day soon we’ll be back home
One day soon I’ll read that tome
Evil little lexicon
Stare me down, thereupon
Sitting on the shelf
Bore your holes
Whack those moles
Cross the bridge and pay the tolls
Find yourself and find our souls
Tragedy In Antiquity
Good morning, all. I have been thinking much on history’s many people. I find it easy to remember the events, the macro, so to speak, but it can often be difficult to fathom that every individual person that has ever lived was in fact a person, that they loved and hated and joked just the same as now. I try to think of them. Even if I can’t remember their names, I try to remember them. To not let their stories be forgotten if I can help it. They existed. Try not to forget.
Aegyptus
An ancient Pharaoh rests in her tomb
Dreaming dreams of her Kingdom’s doom
Before her death it did so loom
But come to pass it did so soon
Great commandments of a God
Covered now in sand and sod
Her people, their Pharaoh, did they laud
But now you’ll find but just facade
Dead and gone
Ghost and a pawn
She never did so see the dawn
As coffers drained and blood was drawn
O Cleopatra, last of the Pharaohs,
Bite of an asp, or so many arrows?
On a path that suddenly narrows
Sleeping now in holes and barrows.
Your Love, Marcus Antonius, Mark Antony,
Does he so too rest in sand and sod?
Poems by Sam 