Last Commented Allegory Poems (898)

bearded, wild
quick tempered be
my natural place
is on the sea

my northern star
her memory
the anchor locker
and the quay

nets to fire
rope to splice
my heart in summer
full of ice

her smile the sun
her form the shore
wrought from toil
her lips are pure

I see her now
amongst the waves
those hazel eyes
the tide betrays

net mending
as the season grows
needle dancing
through the rows

my hands are coarse
sandpaper'd rough
mist kissed skies
are not enough

blonde curtains draped
her smile unfurled
her hair falls over
the globe of my world

step into the make believe
footfalling into stones
where memories are citadels
wider than truth
her bones

I never knew the right words
you stole them with your smile
pirouetting effortlessly
some Parisian mile

the timbre of a meadowlark
pillowed under star
looking out for last call
in some forgotten bar

it rises in my dark thought
when my soul is out of tune
your ghost is like my memory
your voice is like the moon

I tried to find you in others
I can't do that anymore
I couldnt find the answers
this side.. of.. the shore

I’ve played with glass marbles, they’re black as black gets...
Cracked down their middles....and right through their backs...
Chained to long nights backed with painful cold-sweats...
I’ll bet that these pains are the best I’ve met yet...

Although I do know, though I don’t......will I grow?...
The best of me.....that person I’ve never known...
And while cracks remain, time has maintained what’s stained...
Strained cracks in black glass back and reaps what’s been sown....

baby, hills run dry
beneath your velvet sky
outside i queue for gas
in the rain

baby, I don't know
how the tale of us will go
don't walk away
on stepping stones of pain

your smile is a light
on a cold dark night
look and search my face
there's no distain

all I ask for now
is some peace somehow
no need to give me
shelter from the rain

drank whiskey
from her navel
after hours
in a bar

heard the sound
of my breathing
through the lungs
of your guitar

and lightnings just
a broken string
on horizon's
air guitar

cloudy lyrics
fall as rain
through the windscreen
of my car

I started
a new life
as we had
just begun

swam circles
around your mind
untill you closed
the sun

you told me
i was stubborn
you told me
yes and no

I went fishin
in your creek
but the water
was too low

there's always
a new town
a new girl
and you

tryin hard
to unpick life
tangled up
in blue

fragments of stories
half heard in the inn
awoke in me fires
stoked by the gin

catherine anne moored
in secret twilight
buckled neath bullion
jewelled to it's height

a vast templar treasure
won by the blade
fortunes were lost
to greater one's made

made fame in fortune
in furnace of hell
to purchase a passage
to where her boards dwell

war steed I bought
to reach holy land
travelling savagely
mountain to strand

I found her in summer
asleep in her bed
I swam into darkness..

down to the dead

.

I spent monday
just walking through town
searchin' for magical
timbers of brown

I watched tuesday morning
arrive like a swan
calm at the surface
when calmness has gone

I spent most of wednesday
walking the deck
from the truest of branches
I fashioned your neck

your hips were my thursday
curved from the air
I spun every string
from a strand of your hair

friday smiled at me
from the teeth of a breeze
my old life was locks
the new one was keys

saturday woke me
to the purest of note
from the deepness of meaning
I painted your coat

now the world is a sunday
and your song is a bird
I listen to your breathing
and I know every word

At first not caring that some statues and memorials were being removed.
As well as the naming of schools, highways, buildings, etc.
I thought that I understood.
But it seems as though there is no end to it.
Eventually, there will be no naming of anything nor statues nor memorials of
anyone.
As time has passed and continues to pass how people construe what is good,
bad, or indifferent has and will continue to change.
There is a skeleton in the closet for everyone.
For example, as much as we love and respect John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King, they were both purported to be notorious womanizers.
Some might think this to be a moot point but THIS is the POINT.
Which sin or indiscretion will be viewed as allowable or not and by whom?
History was what it was.
One can't alter that.
What we can do is teach the truth of our past, present, and future.
Enlighten our young.
Show them that love and charity are the brightest paths to follow for shared happiness and the preservation of our freedoms and liberty...

well heaven knows
and heaven lies
I'm travelling down
this road
under.. stationary skies

the distances are vast
I can see no end
its easy just to dream
it's easy to pretend

if my truck was an angel
if my truck had wings
I'd fly past all the corners
that this world brings

I'd fly down to Texas
just to say that I did
I'd hold the world
in a coffee jar
and then I'd close the lid

but my truck is an old one
and my clothes ain't new
so I turn on the radio
and I think of you

if my truck was an angel

I heard there's a mountain
at the end of this track
I don't take shit from anyone
I ain't coming back

because the sky is endless
and the trees are new
and when the world is greenest
I don't want to be blue

If my truck was an angel
if my truck had wings
then every sign would be songbirds
as the mileage sings

Each semester my Professor teaches words that are clever...
And whether the pleasure reaches stars I would never...
Sever the treasure, or display my displeasure...
In weather when we are together...

And despite the fact that sometimes I'm stressed...
I'm blessed when I'm pressed to pass these hard tests...
And though I profess, and truly confess...
I'm less stressed when in recess...

I thank all my teachers for all that they teach...
Each one a bright star that is just beyond reach...
They never do preach, they correct my bad speech...
Each week they critique what I speak....