I’m an artistic soul who runs amock
Given in to too many fantasies
Only a hammer to my name
Come and enjoy loving hard
And long haired legged truth
Driving a hard bargain
With a straw hat for the sun
Leaves a weary worker
Leaning in for two more glasses
Reminding him of a ghost
Running deep in his blood
Scoffing at each new penny
Spent in mirths dear folly
Along the road of distant drumming.
Tag: folly
Folly (day 1567)
These confessions of a dreamer
Leave me circling previous thoughts
With bold, easily identified colors
To indicate folly, where folly’s due.
It’s senseless to caress with timid eyes,
Without hunger biting down doors
And scratching the back of a ravenous beast.
I awake with my fingers gnarled around
Phallic dreams eloping with dense heat
Coiling into my dangerous heart,
Poised and set to pounce
Fond of a Maiden (day 1101)
When wanderers showed me another decision,
A lane up ahead lifted options adieu.
Where once was a path littered with madness unforgiven,
Turned swiftly to a road which lost was a given.
Down, through, and past ghouls where I roamed
A length I did witness had I hardly been borne.
Beyond intents, beyond deliberation
I was lost in a path for forever ambition.
Launched into desires like a reflection upon me
I shared all I had with a widow of seven.
She laughed at my folly through havens and glens
That caused me much heartache of which I’m still shaken.
I was laughing at the tragedy I’d been witness,
In all of my givens I was never victim,
Save only of dreaming eternal desires.
Here was my folly; deeper than madness,
Here was the road I had swiftly been given.
To which [luckily] my stars had been lifted to heaven
Aloud as I lay beneath all these twilights.
Then at once – without warning –
As I kissed my last maiden goodbye
I witnessed what I had openly given.
Shared with my gallantry: a picnic in the glen,
A light long been forsaken.
Here I was dined like a royal brandy-wine
A Mister to a noblette, a guru to affect.
Like my littered path of madness unforgiven,
I was handed a chance of a rosy countenance.
Here I was left as if struck by forever,
Struck daft by the eyes of life’s fairer.
So out of my lands I had mended and mined,
Through wild abandon chalked plenty with lust.
I found I had seen what’s never forgotten.
Here I was. Here I decided. And here
I lept at the chance to grow fond of a maiden.
Old English Accent (day 782)
It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:
Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown
And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew
The Warts of Worry (day 92)
A worry, once sought
Can never be left at a lick
Without a decision
Without ample evidence
We go on remembering the folly
In time, one may ring
Erasing the thoughts of doom we did have
But its wake shall produce
As an opening guide
One more to cover the path