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Writing A Nice Poem [PG]


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Written a few more poems in my time. Feel free to criticise.


Boredom has arrived, a woman drenched in torpor,
Clinging to the skin like spent smoke and oily water.
She, as girls do, holds on tight ? but maliciously,
Gripping at our throats, a danger that we cannot fix.
We laze; do nothing else in otiosity,
And in adumbral, sluggish waters of the Styx
We find ourselves sinking, feeling drawn and quarter?d.

Ah! It calls; we hear thee scream at us, wretched bitch!
Screeching siren! Harpy! Now we lie in your ditch.
We, unslak?d, are bound to thee in wicked marriage,
The ring bites into our nude and aching fingers.
Captive and in grey thoughts, void of all privilege,
We begin to fret that this evil cloud lingers
Over us all, what a thought! Scared; we shake and twitch.

I would that this gripping shadow?d make me cuckold,
So I can shake these forced vows I?m made to hold.
Cheat, and lie, and fornicate your ennui elsewhere,
I have no wish in years to stay with thee so trapt;
I?d rather leave thee to thyself without a care,
But duly, here at my door it?s standing so wrapt
In warmth and blankets, to keep out the awful cold.

The vagrant slattern is now at my check?d mercy,
She?s trudged through biting snows and show?d no courtesy.
I throw the ring that?s bound me to dark, with a cry
Out into the freezing air of a winter?s day,
And shout to the hag who?s made me so bored and wry,
?Spinster! Thou cannot choose what thou might have to say,
For I?ve overcome thee and thy wretched heresy.?

With that I?d watch?d the bitch turn?d out upon her ear,
Knowing Ennui the Strangler would not again be near.

The Duellist

The duellist used to wander thus,
The clouds he loved would wander thus
Without a partner, paired with nowt.
His days were vague, to none devout
He prayed, nor praised; thereof the clouds
Would so as he, make rain like dust
Upon his head
From walks to waits long dead.

He?d lay a threat, a dare, to all
Who?d let him speak so fine to all.
With merry words he?d coax a crowd
To step to him with gloves, and proud ?
But hotly tempered, quick to rage ?
With genteel tone announce and call
Themselves by crest,
To nation home atest.

At dawn they meet in bleary light,
A pair of men in bleary light,
Esteem?d to lay his foe to ground
With duellist?s shot ? the sweetest sound.
And now the wind around them blows;
The calm predicts the lightning fight
As each doth pace.
By ten each heart doth race.

The duellist stepped his heavy steps,
So light in heart with heavy steps,
Each one a giant?s stride ? so loud.
As ?round the gun his palp didst prowl,
With skill he moved ? ne?er felt he cow?d ?
With stealth, but from the trigger kept
?Till ten came by,
When ?round whipped he acry.

A wild shot, a solemn slump:
Down one man fell in solemn slump.
The duellist felt relief and bow?d,
Could not elate, nor feel e?er proud.
Again his thoughts start to confound.
He wonders why he feels in sump
And walks away
To trials and dismay.

He wanders still, the lonely man,
He looks ever a lonely man.
Where could his comfort be ? the clouds?
Those mirrors floating high, encrown?d
By glories of the father sun?
He wants an end that means a thing,
No endless stretch
Of road for such a wretch;
An end that he can sing.
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