Last Edited Elegy Poems (1,148)

One day I'll put my poems in proper order -
Until then, you must now bear with me.
Making sense of my life's general disorder
And to write on until I become free.
The stories that I paint with my words were
At one time true - as you will come to see.
Bit by bit, by means of each digression -
Compose the whole (in full) my life's confession.

The World these days is not in proper shape -
The basic fact there are too many people.
Too many souls for destiny to rape
As we gather like timid mice beneath the steeple.
The wine is spill'd from life's fermenting grape
To blast the Godhead with this heady tipple
Which lays us to ruin, and from whence -
We call this our life's experience.

And these experiences I now gather -
Each is a little vignette of its own.
Read them all (or none) if you'd rather -
It's something that I never will disown.
I'm proud of my verse - I am the father
Of all I write and gather like a gown
About me as a blanket - woven stars
Poetry's not a prison - rhymes not bars.




© lovecanbereal
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On the cusp of beauty, you were born
Before this World had its modern form.

Atavar and Spirit much older than us
Existence formed from the deserts' dust.

Imprinted in time, dissolved on the wind
Generous in spirit, eye that is kind.

Giving your blood to the World's other breeds
Improving the type, producing proud steeds.

Your form is beauty, power, and grace
Down storied time your bloodlines I trace.



© lovecanbereal
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Not really a poem (although just to say)
Your top Aussie poet is now back today.

Now three weeks offline, has been long enough
(My old laptop crashed - indeed it was stuffed).

I did all I could to fix the old thing;-
Tried this and that, and repairs on the wing.

Wasted three days and four nights on repairs
But the old girl was gone - it seemed no one cared.

So I bought a fresh laptop - a great new device
And set the thing up for some more CS spice.

And to be honest - how could I keep away?
When it's part of my life to write a poem a day.

And if not one a day, then one a week
To all CS poets - you make my life complete.



© lovecanbereal
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A Woman is
Eternal mystery.

See through
The heart
Of Man
In one
Swift glance.

Can you remember this
Men - in your vanity?

All that we know
in our history
Has happened
When a woman
Took a chance.

Without a woman
Man is incomplete.

All that we know
In our profanity.

My soul
My veins
My blood
Because of her.




© lovecanbereal
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Why is it men must sometimes beg a woman?
(That's even worse than on a bended knee)
To grovel like an insect on a common -
For something that should basically be free.
At twenty-two and feeling that day wanton
(T'was not a thing I should have done for thee)
And only once - two hours to get it on
So beg I did - and her name was Sharon.

Well at last that girl she then relented
(Just maybe out of curiosity)
You say by now that I should have repented -
Not mired myself in promiscuity?
I say this: to refuse an ego dented
Is to plunge in black despair - monstrosity!
I wheedled and I begged and I pleaded -
Just so I could give her what she needed.

She about the same age in St Peters*
And we were young and not at all in love
Well I'm just glad that no one came to meet us
(As we stole into a bedroom up above)
An act designed by nature to complete us
(And something to myself I had to prove)
At least that day we had an empty terrace;-
Wherein - and very soon - our hearts did race.

Good reader, I should spare you the profanity;-
The act performed - and that act only once.
On her part t'was a form of charity;-
Go through the motions - defy common sense.
Well, what is young lust but insanity?
A fever of the blood (our recompense)
I met her years later at a funeral
Where she thanked me for that single numeral.




© lovecanbereal
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When music speaks, it speaks unto the heart; -
Where poet's words may fail, music talks.
When two lovers; - they are so far apart
Fine music now to bridge that farthest walk.
It's something that I know before we part; -
And something that may make the staunchest balk.
You say that money talks; - it's treachery -
The sole haven of the weak - in lechery.

When music speaks, the soul it now awakes; -
(It's something that we cannot quite explain).
Gods have left us to our various fates
(And time will leave but few there to remain).
History will remember those few greats
(Like the gentle kiss of seasons in Spring rain).
Byron knew this, and so did Shakespeare -
They trod the ground to walk where others fear.

And poetry, it seems, is a lost art
Something, maybe now, from a bygone age.
Woman I have loved - now we're far apart
(And remembered they, only on my page).
When I was young I thought I was so smart
The older that I get, more life it's strange.
I long for bygone times - where poetry
Would tell my lover of sincerity.




© lovecanbereal
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One day I'll find the right girl
She will be my one and only.
If I have to search half the World
Then I'll be no longer lonely.

I know my wants, and my dreams
For my heart's desire.
If love is true then it seems
To burn like hottest fire.

Good looks may run a distant last
To what she has inside;-
The superficial has long past
And my heart could never hide.

What is this World without love?
It's empty and it's hollow; -
Oh to find that treasure trove
That gives meaning to tomorrow.



© lovecanbereal
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Well so it was the plane was born aloft -
Goodbye Sydney (if only for a week).
Tarmac vanished as up into the soft
Clouds the big bird flew (we felt like sheikhs) -
Not like jaded jet setters (who did this oft);-
So happily we settled in our seats; -
Five mates from QANTAS - and of course was me -
(The author of the poem that you now read).

At twenty-two, the blood's a lot more racy -
Unlike a good red wine (matured in vats); -
Accordingly, my verse will be more pacey -
Not Gothic all (like castles full of bats).
Fluff-white clouds in contrails of white tracery
The plane a dart conveying young root rats; -
In ways quite similar to Spain's Ibiza
(At any rate, the plane sped through the ether).

Six hours of flight - now coming into view -
Our destination end of this flight path; -
(No doubt the hosties and the other crew
Were grateful for the respite) the aircraft
Sallied through the tropic air below -
Descending now quite quickly (for and aft).
And having now have flown just so far
Touched down on the strip at Denpasar.

The tropic air - it hit us like a furnace -
(The dry season is mid to late December)
Wherein these climes the Sun will surely burn us
(If the sunscreen we do not remember).
Customs were cleared - the airport now behind us-
Thus six young men - who newly now made friends were.
We were bound for cheaper hotel rooms -
(Later Bintang beer and magic mushr**ms)?

Out now on the piss (and this was typical)
Of other days to follow that one night.
Serving like a kind of analytical
Introduction to the secrets of the night.
A story I now tell - so listen up you all -
(I wish not gentle muse to now a fright).
Though basically such pickup skills at Kuta:-
Get pissed with a sheila - and then r**t her.

This brings me to the climax of my story
Or many yet to come as you will see.
Young love in all its raging steamy glory -
An Aussie girl (called Robyn) by the sea.
Drinking at a nightclub made us h*rny -
(Both sinking six or seven beers with glee).
Thus commenced our loving by the ocean -
With perfumed oils - that she wore - as a lotion.

The nights that followed were without result -
(Though not for lack of trying on my part).
And reading now my stars in the occult -
I see the perils - of following - your heart.
Well maybe in those stars there is a fault; -
Though I must say (as I soon depart) -
The last girl was a local - called Renee -
So for one night - t'was money I did pay.

My neck the morning after nibbled raw -
(At least I wasn't bitten by a monkey).
Other parts - suffice to say - were also sore -
(So moving right along now with my story).
You may say that this behavior you deplore -
(Though what I say is typical of Bali).
Six young men with tans - and with sunburn -
To Sydney now reluctantly return.



© lovecanbereal
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I don't think I can fall in love again
It hurts too much - and I don't understand
Women all they want - my physicality
They want me - yet they don't - my animality.

Across the net, I offer up my love -
Or pain's miss understanding (now it seems)
Who wants this man who's haunted? (an old cove)
Who seeks affection - but a painful dream.

I cannot risk my love (as if a bet)
If only money - who cares if it's lost?
I cannot risk my heart upon the net
I have the price but cannot pay the cost.

So I'm alone and lonely - no more tears
After drinking feelings are but numbed
Washed away too many nights - no piety
I'm faithless even in my new sobriety.




© lovecanbereal
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I want to be alone though not forever
Retreat into my room and there think not
About my first love - a long wilted flower
And why to her that I was such a sl*t?

Is platonic love oft unrequited?
And does this kind of love in fact exist?
Though something in my soul must be misguided
For in you girl was something that I missed.

From childhood in affection comes new love
Although affection when we have it not
Will make us ever want from there to rove
A childhood lost can never be forgot.

A childhood without loves a blasted flower
That which wilts in any earth to grow
Trying in emaciated power
To feel a love that most already know.

Something in my heart will always rove
And something will forever seem so bleak
I only wish that I could come to know
A girl like you with loving soft mystique.

And if I ever met that girl I would
Hold her tight and be her everything
And if I got a second chance I should
Give her jewels and a golden wedding ring.




© lovecanbereal
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