“At tensed note, you me do hear…
The lines I stroke are feebly real
But life is surely- sure, my dear!
We bravely cry, her heart’s- a heal,
All other times we choose to fear!
We do decide what we do feel!”
The Road
” I saw a courtyard, cavalier,
A flimsy household, burnt despair…
Still tinsy flames, a shaky pier,
Still enter it the brave one dare…
I wised en route, a decrepit man,
“Worth of life perceive no youth can…”
The Market
Not clay, but stone- fat man’s abode,
All passers- by, their mouth’s broad
A blacken shadow strikes a cheek
“There be a duel! “- crowd’s a meek
“Enough! “- at passers’ stall I snap my bread,
With agony, my eyes shall not be fed”
The Wasteland
Miragy, shaky dot, at far horizon
It shivers closer, is that a bison?
Dead and bony, stumping, crossed liaison…
A cross and pike, stuck, chest, war’s son…
“I kill the wish to end it’s pain
I kill the fire and sleep in vain…”
The Bonfire
A stilted, silent, devil’s whore
But she can’t see her kids no more…
A lusty flamelet leaving first sore…
From shrieking crowd- “Torture her, more!”
“”Mumma- Mumma!” Eyes wet, them follow
I turn and stand, heart dipped in sorrow…”
The Woods
The darkest thicket, a daunting stare, stinge some foul…
An eerie swamp, a cryptic flare, a glaciating howl…
All, but none around the pyre, all, but one- hides in the cowl…
“Who is that?”- one dares to ask. “Solitude”- is heard a scowl.
“There, behind “seclusion”, hides a fading man…
Despondency is what it turned into, on that long a span”
The House
An early morning, drapes alfight, birds all tweet…
At portico, beauty for sight, glissades a damsel sweet…
“Where’s your corset, you lousy wench!”- is all the heat,
A High estate, a rich demesne, yet filth off street…
“All this society, all those trends- a despot o’er heads…
Trailing those, loosing friends, knit we all dystopian threads!”
The School
A flock of kids, in field they play, mirth a bunch!
Around something they are gay, natures gift?- a hunch?
Closer, laughter, there’s a deafish boy, gets a kick, a punch…
His name is Ludwig, and he shan’t leave a crunch!
“All have stories, paths, habitude to greatness…
Some suffer, some don’t, yet all reach in lateness!”
The Lake
He ran his eyes- stars seem to hover,
“Life’s been concise”, he does uncover
“I’m now in joy, I’m still tired of lies,
Reality’s-Troy! green bellied fireflies…”
“The man’s just right in his built illusion,
Blind us the truths, sight, with confusion.”
The Pub
“I fill the bowl, then tap the dottle…
Meanwhile others- down the bottle…”
He opens stashed up, tobacco leaves…
“Minds’ out resort, senses take heaves…”
“I’d puff for grayish soul and ring for misty mind,
All kinds love a kind, that’s the truth of the mankind”
***This piece is unfinished, so keep updated, periodically)
"Reality" by Zeguy Lestrange 