My Lord,Lady,Sir&Dame -out-dated out-moded out-worn 'onours outfitters
TITLED
The crown that rests upon your head
a perfect fit with a circle of gold ...
your wealth untold
A regal stature ..you present ..upon the throne
that you ascend ...sweet nature covers this royal
birth ...sternest exchanged for joy and mirth ...
Cloak trimmed with sable fur ...soft velvet completes
the royal gown....softly fitting on your figure
enfolding your ego like a wanton child
© Ken Newman
Who entitles The entitled?
a bold storm gathers
plundering fields--a wasteland
baby leaflets saved
Haiku No Title
17 April 2018
" Once upon a time, a story will be written. And we won't be clique and finish with, the end, but with happily ever after. "
~R. D. Write
Don't ask questions, neither you or I can answer
but let us glide gracefully together
as smooth and swift as a dancer
Anticipating beauty
residing within the boundaries of what's unkown
The sky grows dark
As the wind howls
Calling me back home
What you seek
for you I'll find it
be my guidance
if ever I seem blinded
feel love with no fear
Simply because I don't
seeking out the love
that my heart won't
Being free
as I break away
upon the clouds
I wish to lay
Searching for something
When I find none
doesn't mean it's over
I've only just begun
My love for you slowly drifts back into reality
how I love so much
Is that which my eyes have just seen
To the moon I go in search of the sun
as brightness shines into my eyes
The wind howls and I close them
such a beautiful escape, it's something like a dream.
Breathe.
The soul is an alley,
littered with guilt.
The mind is a sausage
perched on a stilt.
The most fun of the teen years
rise again
with the sweetest memories
of the period.
Moon filled nights
city lights
deeply sentimental
freshly elemental.
I wish that you could see "The Real Me".
I'm not just that girl with the "Scarred Heart".
This torture of "Forbidden Love" has to end,
"Nevermore" can this broken heart long for love.
"Just Forget Me", my inspiration, I can no longer find you.
Instead I have to write about "A Fairy's Fantasy" world,
and not a true love ode, but an "Ode To Autumn".
Finding my "Soul Mate" would bring "Serenity" to me.
"For No One But Me" deserves this happiness,
such an inspiration would be "Heaven For A Poet".
Written for Adam Hapworth's contest - It's all in the Titles
Walking through the desert
A genre-less beast of burden
The flaming orb in the sky
A brutal master so true
She trudges with drooped head
With feet like lead
Moving involuntarily
Towards the bleak unknown
Hark! What do I see?
A great body of water
Inevitably doomed
Soles bruising Earth
In a for-ward movement
To-wards un-avoidable destruction
Eyes scanning the horizon
Doom is definitely the solution
This great body of doom
Lapping at the toes
She'd rather take the plunge
Than turn her back on it
She'd rather swim across
Than wait for her salvation....
The Egyptians are coming
U.N.titled…
Mind flickering
Painful memories
Tears falling
Refusing to feel
Thoughts wandering
Down the broken path
Of shattered dreams
And fractured realities
Emotions trickling
Into the rivers of feelings
Unable to contain
The waters break free
Sadness washes over me
Grief engulfs me
Words spilling forth
Breaking my resolve
LOVE KNOT?
There once was a girl who was smitten,
On a guy she always was hittin’.
He threw her a rope,
Which gave her some hope,
Until she saw how it was fittin’.
[Just a few changes -- new title, two changed words. Makes all the difference, doesn't it?]
Told me that you cared
Told me that you loved me
Said you'd be there
Said you'd never hurt me
What did i do to you
To make you be untrue
I swear i loved you
Placed no one above you
But you lied ooh you lied
You made me cry
I wanted to ask why
Dearest Prof –
I did not title them:
These ever-ready logs
Ready to assemble ants of cowries;
They dance from sea to land
Wishing to be titled by exigent gods
Who watch over their lonely coronations
Lavished with sacrificial songs!
I did not title them:
Pot-bellied officees of faculties
Chewing mouthfuls of the land’s laws
Their neighbours:
Half-truthful goblins of tax-collectors
The smiling kick-backers
And officees of admissions –
Who titled these men?
Dearest Prof –
Many are these titled men of today
Are they found everywhere?
Do they mount uniformed road-blocks
As we pass safety-roads without eyes?
Head-strong: are their skulls also fragile?
Could the husk of a tax-collectors mouth
Eat the husks of his pot’s bottom?
Who titled these men?
Matching boldly with wrong titles?
Of course, the red-caps of the under world
Visited the newly world-renowned ref
(Prof, a roused lad heard it told!)
Did they leave the corpse by the ref?
Sadistic: are they also shrewdly fraternal?
I cannot lavish the sacred lines.
Alone on a hill-
Afternoon end of summer;
Dark clouds piling-up.
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