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"A YEAR OF SUNDAYS" - SUBMISSIONS - November 2023
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 3, 2023, 10:56:40 AM11/3/23
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Start posting!
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Ash Wurthing
Nov 4, 2023, 3:16:12 PM11/4/23
to
Diversion
She stabbed me in the eyes
with a brilliant light.
Her shell contained
all the magic invented –
the slight of hand
making the rest of the world disappear,
hunger go unattended,
all disease expelled.
The n4 bus arrived
and I boarded watching
her vision disappear
into diesel blue.
The day loomed,
six stops from this diversion.
~Reverie
Posted with author's permission. Ash posts for Ecthrois Grimm, Last Dance and now Reverie on AAPC, in AYoS only, since they don't wish to come here under the current conditions, but want their work posted to AYoS.
She stabbed me in the eyes
with a brilliant light.
Her shell contained
all the magic invented –
the slight of hand
making the rest of the world disappear,
hunger go unattended,
all disease expelled.
The n4 bus arrived
and I boarded watching
her vision disappear
into diesel blue.
The day loomed,
six stops from this diversion.
~Reverie
Posted with author's permission. Ash posts for Ecthrois Grimm, Last Dance and now Reverie on AAPC, in AYoS only, since they don't wish to come here under the current conditions, but want their work posted to AYoS.
Ash Wurthing
Nov 5, 2023, 7:01:20 PM11/5/23
to
Again for fun and something completely different-- a remix collab with Last Dance of the old favorite:
Another lil Ode to the Online Kerfuffle
/(Last Dance mix)/
O! The tumult and the turmoil!
O? Do I hear the woe of keystrokes gnashing?
Alas, they're aghast, so appalled they recoil
O! Have mercy upon the keyboards smashing!
What? There's no miracles workers on this wreck, just doctors?
I'm no real McCoy, but let me administer a dose of dreadful prose!
It's a bloodied slurred morning of a crossed swords day
Wills and egos have rallied, to flail and to flay
The tatting banners have unfurled, their hollow threats clattering
Aspersions will be brandished and comeuppances shattered
Intentions will be trampled, spurring retorts unflattering
As feelings are wounded, egos bruised and brows battered
So sound the charge and let the posts fly as they may!
Pummel "submit" and ride into the online fray!!*
and sitting and watching, on a nearby hill
the bemused and confused watcher awaits
with a pot of hot tea, and a nice warm pastry,
for any of those who stumble upward from the fray.
there's room on the blanket, to stretch out in peace
to smell the flowers and watch the sky.
no opinions are asked, no positions are offered
the watcher doesn't know or doesn't care.
because the tea smells like honeysuckle,
and the pastries are sweet,
up on the hill, in the nice, fresh, air.
~ Last Dance (of tGG)
* ~ Ash Wurthing
Another lil Ode to the Online Kerfuffle
/(Last Dance mix)/
O! The tumult and the turmoil!
O? Do I hear the woe of keystrokes gnashing?
Alas, they're aghast, so appalled they recoil
O! Have mercy upon the keyboards smashing!
What? There's no miracles workers on this wreck, just doctors?
I'm no real McCoy, but let me administer a dose of dreadful prose!
It's a bloodied slurred morning of a crossed swords day
Wills and egos have rallied, to flail and to flay
The tatting banners have unfurled, their hollow threats clattering
Aspersions will be brandished and comeuppances shattered
Intentions will be trampled, spurring retorts unflattering
As feelings are wounded, egos bruised and brows battered
So sound the charge and let the posts fly as they may!
Pummel "submit" and ride into the online fray!!*
and sitting and watching, on a nearby hill
the bemused and confused watcher awaits
with a pot of hot tea, and a nice warm pastry,
for any of those who stumble upward from the fray.
there's room on the blanket, to stretch out in peace
to smell the flowers and watch the sky.
no opinions are asked, no positions are offered
the watcher doesn't know or doesn't care.
because the tea smells like honeysuckle,
and the pastries are sweet,
up on the hill, in the nice, fresh, air.
~ Last Dance (of tGG)
* ~ Ash Wurthing
Michael Pendragon
Nov 6, 2023, 1:33:39 PM11/6/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 6, 2023, 5:24:29 PM11/6/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 6, 2023, 10:27:44 PM11/6/23
to
THE OCTOBER PEOPLE
"Beware the autumn people…
They sift the human storm for souls,
eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners...
The spider-web hears them, trembles -- breaks.
Such are the autumn people. Beware them."
-- Ray Bradbury,
"Something Wicked This Way Comes"
They walk the dark, untrodden ways
Where Autumn winds blow crisp and chill,
Where spiders bind the darkling days
In cobwebs on their windowsill,
And all the world is still.
Like shadows on an empty street
They skirt the night without a sound,
They haunt the paths where dead men meet
To whisper of unhallowed ground
Where years, like ghosts, are bound.
They come from dust, and seek the grave
The night wind stirs within their veins,
The eyeless worm has made its cave,
And ticks away within their brains
Till nought but death remains.
Beware the toad within their mouths
Beware their icy viper eyes
Whose writhing irises arouse
A morbid lust for sullen skies
Where dead men swat at flies.
October people make their way
Through life where every day is Fall,
Where leaves are brown and skies are gray,
They heed a different, far-off call
Yet go nowhere at all.
Their faces tell the tale of age
And yet they never age or die,
They're torn from off an ancient page
Or parchment scroll from time gone by
To vanish like a sigh.
October people read your soul
Tattoo your spirit on their skin,
Or bind you to a barber's pole
And watch the red-white colors spin --
Watch with a silent grin.
And when the harvest moon burns red
They stand like dead men at your door,
And call your name, though nothing's said
And draw you off forever more
To Styx's sunless shore.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
"Beware the autumn people…
They sift the human storm for souls,
eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners...
The spider-web hears them, trembles -- breaks.
Such are the autumn people. Beware them."
-- Ray Bradbury,
"Something Wicked This Way Comes"
They walk the dark, untrodden ways
Where Autumn winds blow crisp and chill,
Where spiders bind the darkling days
In cobwebs on their windowsill,
And all the world is still.
Like shadows on an empty street
They skirt the night without a sound,
They haunt the paths where dead men meet
To whisper of unhallowed ground
Where years, like ghosts, are bound.
They come from dust, and seek the grave
The night wind stirs within their veins,
The eyeless worm has made its cave,
And ticks away within their brains
Till nought but death remains.
Beware the toad within their mouths
Beware their icy viper eyes
Whose writhing irises arouse
A morbid lust for sullen skies
Where dead men swat at flies.
October people make their way
Through life where every day is Fall,
Where leaves are brown and skies are gray,
They heed a different, far-off call
Yet go nowhere at all.
Their faces tell the tale of age
And yet they never age or die,
They're torn from off an ancient page
Or parchment scroll from time gone by
To vanish like a sigh.
October people read your soul
Tattoo your spirit on their skin,
Or bind you to a barber's pole
And watch the red-white colors spin --
Watch with a silent grin.
And when the harvest moon burns red
They stand like dead men at your door,
And call your name, though nothing's said
And draw you off forever more
To Styx's sunless shore.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Michael Pendragon
Nov 7, 2023, 8:27:41 AM11/7/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 7, 2023, 8:45:59 PM11/7/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 7, 2023, 9:52:41 PM11/7/23
to
WITHERED LEAVES
Withered leaves blow in my door
And down the kitchen stairs,
Gather in corners on the floor,
Hide underneath the chairs;
A few still hang upon the trees
More pile up on my lawn,
They tumble in the morning breeze
And yet they're never gone.
My face is withered like the leaves
My hair has all turned grey,
My heart slows down its beat and grieves
For friends who've gone away;
Soon Old Man Winter will be here
To hide the leaves in snow,
Then like the leaves, I'll disappear
To where the old men go.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Withered leaves blow in my door
And down the kitchen stairs,
Gather in corners on the floor,
Hide underneath the chairs;
A few still hang upon the trees
More pile up on my lawn,
They tumble in the morning breeze
And yet they're never gone.
My face is withered like the leaves
My hair has all turned grey,
My heart slows down its beat and grieves
For friends who've gone away;
Soon Old Man Winter will be here
To hide the leaves in snow,
Then like the leaves, I'll disappear
To where the old men go.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Ash Wurthing
Nov 11, 2023, 7:05:27 PM11/11/23
to
Midnight
Now a heated bulb burns off
the dust, its aroma reminds one
of our dance memories –
when rugs were rolled back,
the music and heartbeat
were all we heard.
I can taste your lips
as if yesterday, touch the chiffon
as it swirled in celebration
of our destiny's fulfillment.
I turn off the light but never your image.
Now a heated bulb burns off
the dust, its aroma reminds one
of our dance memories –
when rugs were rolled back,
the music and heartbeat
were all we heard.
I can taste your lips
as if yesterday, touch the chiffon
as it swirled in celebration
of our destiny's fulfillment.
I turn off the light but never your image.
Michael Pendragon
Nov 12, 2023, 2:05:32 AM11/12/23
to
JACK-O'-LANTERN EYES
When night descends upon the land
And dresses Halloween in black,
A row of silent pumpkins stand
On front porch stairways, back-to-back,
With ancient faces carved from slabs of time.
From out the dark, their faces glow
Like demons from some warlock's spell,
They light the night for well they know
The secrets dead men never tell
When Hell's bells toll their long forgotten chime.
Tonight the veil twixt life and death
Is thinner than a baby's breath,
Owls chant their haunting shibboleth
And ghosts are on the prowl;
The black cats yowl and twitch their tails,
The stray dogs howl, the banshee wails,
The darkness of the night prevails
While jack-o'-lanterns scowl.
But look beyond their crooked grin
To see the fire that burns within
Behind their masks of pumpkin skin
Lie thoughts they can't disguise;
And years from now when I am dead
The myriad words I've left unsaid
On Hallows Eve can still be read
Deep in my jack-o'-lantern eyes.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
When night descends upon the land
And dresses Halloween in black,
A row of silent pumpkins stand
On front porch stairways, back-to-back,
With ancient faces carved from slabs of time.
From out the dark, their faces glow
Like demons from some warlock's spell,
They light the night for well they know
The secrets dead men never tell
When Hell's bells toll their long forgotten chime.
Tonight the veil twixt life and death
Is thinner than a baby's breath,
Owls chant their haunting shibboleth
And ghosts are on the prowl;
The black cats yowl and twitch their tails,
The stray dogs howl, the banshee wails,
The darkness of the night prevails
While jack-o'-lanterns scowl.
But look beyond their crooked grin
To see the fire that burns within
Behind their masks of pumpkin skin
Lie thoughts they can't disguise;
And years from now when I am dead
The myriad words I've left unsaid
On Hallows Eve can still be read
Deep in my jack-o'-lantern eyes.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Ash Wurthing
Nov 12, 2023, 6:03:35 PM11/12/23
to
The Ideal (put poetically)
All of this animosity of discord and uproar-
these States are hardly united any more.
Invidious, inglorious achievements to deplore
of those ignorant, who believe they know more.
The iniquity of unjust Rule of blind piety
is rooted in the treachery of its Society.
Votes for a more perfect plurality,
laws of a true and just rationality-
for parity rather than conformity,
require a more inclusive majority.
~~Ash Wurthing
All of this animosity of discord and uproar-
these States are hardly united any more.
Invidious, inglorious achievements to deplore
of those ignorant, who believe they know more.
The iniquity of unjust Rule of blind piety
is rooted in the treachery of its Society.
Votes for a more perfect plurality,
laws of a true and just rationality-
for parity rather than conformity,
require a more inclusive majority.
~~Ash Wurthing
Michael Pendragon
Nov 13, 2023, 9:00:55 AM11/13/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 13, 2023, 1:45:13 PM11/13/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 14, 2023, 5:33:13 PM11/14/23
to
THE NIGHT
"Do not go gentle into that good night…"
-- Dylan Thomas
When I, at length, confront that fearsome night
That waits us all when days draw to a close,
I shall not seek, nor go into, the light
That those who've gazed into its source suppose
The path and passage to some other clime.
When I, too soon, take to my final bed
To gather every moment that has passed,
I shall not wonder where the years have fled
Nor why my mayfly dreams were doomed to last
No longer than love's "Once upon a time…"
No, I shall pierce the darkness with my stare
Defiant as a dying candle's flame,
But in my heart I'll know no one is there
Nor any here to call upon my name.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
"Do not go gentle into that good night…"
-- Dylan Thomas
When I, at length, confront that fearsome night
That waits us all when days draw to a close,
I shall not seek, nor go into, the light
That those who've gazed into its source suppose
The path and passage to some other clime.
When I, too soon, take to my final bed
To gather every moment that has passed,
I shall not wonder where the years have fled
Nor why my mayfly dreams were doomed to last
No longer than love's "Once upon a time…"
No, I shall pierce the darkness with my stare
Defiant as a dying candle's flame,
But in my heart I'll know no one is there
Nor any here to call upon my name.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Michael Pendragon
Nov 15, 2023, 1:40:57 PM11/15/23
to
WE'VE SUCH
A LITTLE WAY
We've such a little way to go
A passing hour in the sun,
We've such a little way to go
Before our day is done.
We're only here a little while
To touch a hand, or dry a tear,
We're only here a little while
Before we disappear.
We've such a little way to go
An hour beneath a Summer sky,
We've barely time to say hello
Before we say goodbye.
We've only such a little while
And though our journey isn't far,
We'll walk our road a country mile
And wish upon a star.
"Gather ye roses," as they say
If roses you would claim,
We've only such a little way
And all roads end the same.
Now, as my days draw to an end,
The only thing I know
Is that death waits around the bend --
We've such a little way to go.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
A LITTLE WAY
We've such a little way to go
A passing hour in the sun,
We've such a little way to go
Before our day is done.
We're only here a little while
To touch a hand, or dry a tear,
We're only here a little while
Before we disappear.
We've such a little way to go
An hour beneath a Summer sky,
We've barely time to say hello
Before we say goodbye.
We've only such a little while
And though our journey isn't far,
We'll walk our road a country mile
And wish upon a star.
"Gather ye roses," as they say
If roses you would claim,
We've only such a little way
And all roads end the same.
Now, as my days draw to an end,
The only thing I know
Is that death waits around the bend --
We've such a little way to go.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
NancyGene
Nov 15, 2023, 5:00:46 PM11/15/23
to
Faleena*
by NancyGene
I hated El Paso, with its dirty streets and brash, drunken din.
My parents died and I was left, a young girl who learned of sin.
In Rosa’s Cantina, I served the drinks and twirled for cattle-trail money.
The cowboys all fell in love with me, and there was even one, he
Gunned down a man in a jealous fight, and rode out of town to where
I don’t know. But the poor, bold kid that he had shot I didn’t care
About, so I just went on with my days and tumbleweed nights until
The time I saw him riding into town on the road by cemetery hill.
He was coming back for me, and yet I never knew his real name.
The posse spied him too and shot him twice and still he came
On up to the Cantina, although he was clearly dying, so I went
Outside to see him--I remembered his face but his body was bent
And bleeding. He asked for a kiss, so I kissed him once, and then he died.
I went back inside to dance and sell drinks, and that’s the real downside
Of working at Rosa’s, where the young guys get killed and I remain here,
Still wishing just one was a doctor or lawyer, and so I feel a tear
Is staining my cheek for the quick-draw killer and the baby-faced fool,
Who thought they could win me through a fatal and meaningless duel.
I own the place now, Faleena’s, with its spit-polished wood and two swinging doors.
The doctors were old and lawyers had wives; cowboys marched off to the wars,
And years went by and my chance had died in the bar and the bloody sawdust.
El Paso has changed and I am not young; this Faleena no longer quickens male lust.
The sin is still here but hidden in church, and some ladies remember me when.
One Sunday I’ll go, just to see what they’ll do. When I die will they whisper A men?
*inspired by “El Paso” by Marty Robbins (1959)
by NancyGene
I hated El Paso, with its dirty streets and brash, drunken din.
My parents died and I was left, a young girl who learned of sin.
In Rosa’s Cantina, I served the drinks and twirled for cattle-trail money.
The cowboys all fell in love with me, and there was even one, he
Gunned down a man in a jealous fight, and rode out of town to where
I don’t know. But the poor, bold kid that he had shot I didn’t care
About, so I just went on with my days and tumbleweed nights until
The time I saw him riding into town on the road by cemetery hill.
He was coming back for me, and yet I never knew his real name.
The posse spied him too and shot him twice and still he came
On up to the Cantina, although he was clearly dying, so I went
Outside to see him--I remembered his face but his body was bent
And bleeding. He asked for a kiss, so I kissed him once, and then he died.
I went back inside to dance and sell drinks, and that’s the real downside
Of working at Rosa’s, where the young guys get killed and I remain here,
Still wishing just one was a doctor or lawyer, and so I feel a tear
Is staining my cheek for the quick-draw killer and the baby-faced fool,
Who thought they could win me through a fatal and meaningless duel.
I own the place now, Faleena’s, with its spit-polished wood and two swinging doors.
The doctors were old and lawyers had wives; cowboys marched off to the wars,
And years went by and my chance had died in the bar and the bloody sawdust.
El Paso has changed and I am not young; this Faleena no longer quickens male lust.
The sin is still here but hidden in church, and some ladies remember me when.
One Sunday I’ll go, just to see what they’ll do. When I die will they whisper A men?
*inspired by “El Paso” by Marty Robbins (1959)
Michael Pendragon
Nov 15, 2023, 8:05:58 PM11/15/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 15, 2023, 8:58:38 PM11/15/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 17, 2023, 3:07:42 PM11/17/23
to
THE MARK OF DEATH
Death put his mark on me last night
As I lay down to sleep,
Death placed his mark on me last night
My soul now his to keep.
Death laid his hand upon my head
As I lay in my bed,
Death set his mark upon my head
To claim me for the dead.
Death burned his seal upon my brow
To claim me as his own,
Death set his seal upon my brow
And seared me to the bone.
I gently touched the mark of Death
And sensed my time was near,
I knew that one who's marked by Death
Shall die within the year.
Last night I lay upon my bed
And watched the hours tick away,
I lay in silence on my bed
With nothing left to say.
For Death had pledged to take my life
And whisk me off to who-knows-where,
But I have had my fill of life
And so no longer care.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Death put his mark on me last night
As I lay down to sleep,
Death placed his mark on me last night
My soul now his to keep.
Death laid his hand upon my head
As I lay in my bed,
Death set his mark upon my head
To claim me for the dead.
Death burned his seal upon my brow
To claim me as his own,
Death set his seal upon my brow
And seared me to the bone.
I gently touched the mark of Death
And sensed my time was near,
I knew that one who's marked by Death
Shall die within the year.
Last night I lay upon my bed
And watched the hours tick away,
I lay in silence on my bed
With nothing left to say.
For Death had pledged to take my life
And whisk me off to who-knows-where,
But I have had my fill of life
And so no longer care.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
NancyGene
Nov 18, 2023, 11:58:38 AM11/18/23
to
Fallen Ashes
by NancyGene
He never saw me but heard me as clearly as a silver bell.
I told him I loved him but he was putting me through a hell
Of both our making, and it was always dark even in the day.
I could not pierce his tempered armor or fathom the way
He acted as if he enjoyed my sound but not my form,
Which he said he could not touch, that it was too warm
For a man of hard sensibilities and cold judgments.
For him, in his elemental world, a grudge meant
There was no quarter, no softness, no pure light,
Even to retrieve his soul, always captive in the night,
By a Muse summoned to sing of what’s just and good,
But melodies not for men who question if they should.
by NancyGene
He never saw me but heard me as clearly as a silver bell.
I told him I loved him but he was putting me through a hell
Of both our making, and it was always dark even in the day.
I could not pierce his tempered armor or fathom the way
He acted as if he enjoyed my sound but not my form,
Which he said he could not touch, that it was too warm
For a man of hard sensibilities and cold judgments.
For him, in his elemental world, a grudge meant
There was no quarter, no softness, no pure light,
Even to retrieve his soul, always captive in the night,
By a Muse summoned to sing of what’s just and good,
But melodies not for men who question if they should.
Michael Pendragon
Nov 19, 2023, 10:25:11 AM11/19/23
to
DEAD FACES
Dead faces haunt my waking dreams,
Transfix my spirit with their stare,
Until my earthly sojourn seems
A burden I no longer wish to bear.
Dead faces peer through windowpanes
And follow me throughout the day,
To bind my soul with unseen chains
In Summer fields where barefoot children play.
They challenge me to meet their gaze,
Reproaching me for things I've said,
Reproving me with eyes that blaze
Commanding me to join the restless dead.
They speak my name when twilight falls
And blood red fingers tear the sky,
They plague my nights with banshee calls
Disturb my sleep with thoughts that will not die.
But with each dawn, their faces fade
Like photographs from bygone years:
A funereal promenade
Half-hidden by their mourner's veil of tears.
Dead faces fill my final hours
And when my little life is done,
They'll deck my grave as wildflowers
Or dragonflies that shimmer in the sun.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Dead faces haunt my waking dreams,
Transfix my spirit with their stare,
Until my earthly sojourn seems
A burden I no longer wish to bear.
Dead faces peer through windowpanes
And follow me throughout the day,
To bind my soul with unseen chains
In Summer fields where barefoot children play.
They challenge me to meet their gaze,
Reproaching me for things I've said,
Reproving me with eyes that blaze
Commanding me to join the restless dead.
They speak my name when twilight falls
And blood red fingers tear the sky,
They plague my nights with banshee calls
Disturb my sleep with thoughts that will not die.
But with each dawn, their faces fade
Like photographs from bygone years:
A funereal promenade
Half-hidden by their mourner's veil of tears.
Dead faces fill my final hours
And when my little life is done,
They'll deck my grave as wildflowers
Or dragonflies that shimmer in the sun.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Michael Pendragon
Nov 19, 2023, 6:32:05 PM11/19/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 19, 2023, 10:53:38 PM11/19/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Nov 19, 2023, 11:45:11 PM11/19/23
to
AND THROUGH THE WOODS
October's leaves lie buried 'neath the snow,
And naked branches twist across the sky,
As through the woods, the chilling wind does blow
While boyhood dreams of fresh-baked pumpkin pie
Have soured -- for Grandfather's house is cold.
The snow was falling and the hour grew late
When Grandpa's cottage first came into view,
I parked the car behind the barnyard gate,
Knocked on the backdoor like I used to do
Thanksgivings past, before the world grew old.
Grandmother's cap hung silent by the stair,
Sue brought a bag of groceries from the car;
I forced a smile, and wished I weren't there
But lacked a wishbone or a shooting star
While Grandpa looked away to hide a tear.
Soon John and Ann were singing by the fire
With voices striving too hard to be gay,
Stray whiffs of dinner struggled to inspire
My appetite, while hair of dapple-gray
Sat on my forehead like the dying year.
Next year, Grandpa will have a different home
And other boys will shout for pumpkin pie;
Our memories, like faded Kodachrome
Will fill our hearts with thoughts of days gone by…
While one by one, life's pleasures disappear.
Thank God Thanksgiving comes but once a year.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
October's leaves lie buried 'neath the snow,
And naked branches twist across the sky,
As through the woods, the chilling wind does blow
While boyhood dreams of fresh-baked pumpkin pie
Have soured -- for Grandfather's house is cold.
The snow was falling and the hour grew late
When Grandpa's cottage first came into view,
I parked the car behind the barnyard gate,
Knocked on the backdoor like I used to do
Thanksgivings past, before the world grew old.
Grandmother's cap hung silent by the stair,
Sue brought a bag of groceries from the car;
I forced a smile, and wished I weren't there
But lacked a wishbone or a shooting star
While Grandpa looked away to hide a tear.
Soon John and Ann were singing by the fire
With voices striving too hard to be gay,
Stray whiffs of dinner struggled to inspire
My appetite, while hair of dapple-gray
Sat on my forehead like the dying year.
Next year, Grandpa will have a different home
And other boys will shout for pumpkin pie;
Our memories, like faded Kodachrome
Will fill our hearts with thoughts of days gone by…
While one by one, life's pleasures disappear.
Thank God Thanksgiving comes but once a year.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
ME
Nov 20, 2023, 7:34:46 AM11/20/23
to
NancyGene
Nov 20, 2023, 9:07:11 AM11/20/23
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Plenty
by NancyGene
I had beauty and wealth,
True love and good health,
Ideals and fine form,
Two children were born.
I had sorrow and pain,
A scientist’s brain,
Good friends who were lost,
A marriage star-crossed.
I had laughter and tears,
With heart-stopping fears,
Transitions that weren’t…
But never concurrent.
by NancyGene
I had beauty and wealth,
True love and good health,
Ideals and fine form,
Two children were born.
I had sorrow and pain,
A scientist’s brain,
Good friends who were lost,
A marriage star-crossed.
I had laughter and tears,
With heart-stopping fears,
Transitions that weren’t…
But never concurrent.
Michael Pendragon
Nov 20, 2023, 8:46:03 PM11/20/23
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Coco DeSockmonkey
Nov 21, 2023, 9:35:27 AM11/21/23
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Ash Wurthing
Nov 21, 2023, 12:17:48 PM11/21/23
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Just in the nick of time to save this thread from drowning in a sodden spamming
Michael Pendragon
Nov 22, 2023, 12:26:44 AM11/22/23
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Coco DeSockmonkey
Nov 22, 2023, 1:53:08 PM11/22/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 22, 2023, 3:37:35 PM11/22/23
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Ash Wurthing
Nov 22, 2023, 5:57:28 PM11/22/23
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On Tuesday, November 21, 2023 at 12:17:48 PM UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> Just in the nick of time to save this thread from drowning in a sodden spamming
"Oh rise, rise, rise, dark horse on the wind
> Just in the nick of time to save this thread from drowning in a sodden spamming
For in no nation on the earth
More broken dreams you'll find"
--'Dark Horse of the Wind' ~~Liam Weldon
Michael Pendragon
Nov 23, 2023, 2:49:47 PM11/23/23
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Ash Wurthing
Nov 23, 2023, 5:41:58 PM11/23/23
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Lock and Load
I heard that someone offered prayer
over those whose blood had yet
coagulated.
What God turns his back
on the flock when lock and load
is heard from the lips of evil?
Now I lay me down to sleep
and await the morning headlines –
"Crucifixions Live."
~Reverie
Posted with author's permission.
I heard that someone offered prayer
over those whose blood had yet
coagulated.
What God turns his back
on the flock when lock and load
is heard from the lips of evil?
Now I lay me down to sleep
and await the morning headlines –
"Crucifixions Live."
~Reverie
Posted with author's permission.
Ash Wurthing
Nov 23, 2023, 8:31:55 PM11/23/23
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Gobble
Ghosts and I sit
by the cold stove --
I hold an old cap
and apron.
Taping a cardboard
Turkey to a window --
I pretend all is joyful
inside.
Ghosts and I sit
by the cold stove --
I hold an old cap
and apron.
Taping a cardboard
Turkey to a window --
I pretend all is joyful
inside.
Michael Pendragon
Nov 24, 2023, 10:07:44 AM11/24/23
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NancyGene
Nov 24, 2023, 7:13:50 PM11/24/23
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Young Tom
by NancyGene
I sit here exposed,
My plumage is gone.
My legs are up-posed,
Attention is drawn
To cavities wide
And open to view.
My head wants to hide,
But that is lost too.
I had two nice breasts
That stuck out pure white.
I won some contests
Despite poor eye sight.
My skin has been sliced.
I can’t hear my heart.
I make a last wish…
That bone’s pulled apart.
by NancyGene
I sit here exposed,
My plumage is gone.
My legs are up-posed,
Attention is drawn
To cavities wide
And open to view.
My head wants to hide,
But that is lost too.
I had two nice breasts
That stuck out pure white.
I won some contests
Despite poor eye sight.
My skin has been sliced.
I can’t hear my heart.
I make a last wish…
That bone’s pulled apart.
Michael Pendragon
Nov 25, 2023, 2:54:14 PM11/25/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 25, 2023, 10:38:46 PM11/25/23
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ME
Nov 26, 2023, 7:22:23 AM11/26/23
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ME
Nov 26, 2023, 7:23:00 AM11/26/23
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On Friday, 24 November 2023 at 19:13:50 UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
Ori Keshet
Nov 26, 2023, 8:10:54 AM11/26/23
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On Friday, November 3, 2023 at 4:56:40 PM UTC+2, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Start posting!
can you send binaries here?
> Start posting!
can you send binaries here?
Michael Pendragon
Nov 26, 2023, 4:26:41 PM11/26/23
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Ash Wurthing
Nov 26, 2023, 4:38:17 PM11/26/23
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On Sunday, November 26, 2023 at 8:10:54 AM UTC-5, Ori Keshet wrote:
Michael Pendragon
Nov 26, 2023, 8:34:01 PM11/26/23
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ME
Nov 27, 2023, 8:13:10 AM11/27/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 27, 2023, 1:49:05 PM11/27/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 27, 2023, 8:15:13 PM11/27/23
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NIGHT VISITOR
A black coach passed my house last night
Beneath a Winter moon,
It paused awhile before my door
As though my time were soon.
A black coach passed my house last night
Drawn by two coal-black steeds,
Its driver was a snow white maid
Decked out in widow's weeds.
It paused awhile before my door
As I watched from my bed,
A cold wind stirred the coal-black plumes
That crowned each horse's head.
I shivered though my bed was warm,
My windows fastened tight,
I shivered for I knew I'd felt
The touch of death last night.
The driver turned her face my way
And slowly bowed her head,
A silent message meant to say
That I would soon be dead.
She raised her head and met my gaze
As cold as Winter snow,
Then gently took the horses' reins
And signaled them to go.
The carriage ambled on a pace
Then vanished in the night,
But I still saw her stone cold stare
And deathly skin so white.
A black coach passed my house last night
Then went upon its way,
It paused awhile before my door
But hadn't come to stay.
It might not have been there at all,
It might have been a dream,
Or had death's herald paid a call
Deep in a stray moonbeam?
Tonight I'll lay me down to sleep
But sleep will never come,
I'll wait the carriage in the street
That's come to drive me home.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
A black coach passed my house last night
Beneath a Winter moon,
It paused awhile before my door
As though my time were soon.
A black coach passed my house last night
Drawn by two coal-black steeds,
Its driver was a snow white maid
Decked out in widow's weeds.
It paused awhile before my door
As I watched from my bed,
A cold wind stirred the coal-black plumes
That crowned each horse's head.
I shivered though my bed was warm,
My windows fastened tight,
I shivered for I knew I'd felt
The touch of death last night.
The driver turned her face my way
And slowly bowed her head,
A silent message meant to say
That I would soon be dead.
She raised her head and met my gaze
As cold as Winter snow,
Then gently took the horses' reins
And signaled them to go.
The carriage ambled on a pace
Then vanished in the night,
But I still saw her stone cold stare
And deathly skin so white.
A black coach passed my house last night
Then went upon its way,
It paused awhile before my door
But hadn't come to stay.
It might not have been there at all,
It might have been a dream,
Or had death's herald paid a call
Deep in a stray moonbeam?
Tonight I'll lay me down to sleep
But sleep will never come,
I'll wait the carriage in the street
That's come to drive me home.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Michael Pendragon
Nov 28, 2023, 9:53:32 AM11/28/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 28, 2023, 6:46:58 PM11/28/23
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Michael Pendragon
Nov 30, 2023, 12:11:11 PM11/30/23
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WINTER'S HERE
Winter's here with frigid blasts of wind that cut me to the bone
And though Thanksgiving's barely past, has burrowed in with
thick icycle claws;
Winter crept on coyote paws with ancient eyes as cold as
Stone
And buried Autumn deep in snow -- a starling clutched
between her steel-trap jaws.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Winter's here with frigid blasts of wind that cut me to the bone
And though Thanksgiving's barely past, has burrowed in with
thick icycle claws;
Winter crept on coyote paws with ancient eyes as cold as
Stone
And buried Autumn deep in snow -- a starling clutched
between her steel-trap jaws.
-- Michael Pendragon
*****
Coco DeSockmonkey
Nov 30, 2023, 3:09:07 PM11/30/23
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NancyGene
Nov 30, 2023, 8:52:03 PM11/30/23
to
Melancholy
by NancyGene
Not one thing was really amiss.
The pies were a pumpkin bliss,
The turkey was done,
The stuffing was won-
derful, yet after the guests left
I felt disquieted, bereft.
My face already has grown old,
The dining room is dark, cold.
My body’s gone slack.
My mind wanders back
To tarry in another place,
Once again to see and embrace
All the loved ones who are now gone,
Fix all that had veered so wrong.
But some days were great,
The banquets of fate.
I hear the twelve impassive chimes,
A message from blunt Father Time
That next year may not come for me.
I could live a month or three.
The table is set,
I must not forget,
This earthly life that is still mine
Was born to end, but first to dine.
by NancyGene
Not one thing was really amiss.
The pies were a pumpkin bliss,
The turkey was done,
The stuffing was won-
derful, yet after the guests left
I felt disquieted, bereft.
My face already has grown old,
The dining room is dark, cold.
My body’s gone slack.
My mind wanders back
To tarry in another place,
Once again to see and embrace
All the loved ones who are now gone,
Fix all that had veered so wrong.
But some days were great,
The banquets of fate.
I hear the twelve impassive chimes,
A message from blunt Father Time
That next year may not come for me.
I could live a month or three.
The table is set,
I must not forget,
This earthly life that is still mine
Was born to end, but first to dine.
Michael Pendragon
Dec 1, 2023, 1:46:54 PM12/1/23
to
Michael Pendragon
Dec 2, 2023, 4:58:55 PM12/2/23
to
0 new messages