Tag: verse

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Honor’s Task

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Do you know happiness?
Can you feel love’s caress?
Have you braved happenstance?
Could you learn to ballroom dance?

Is there immaturity,
in any of what you breathe or see?
Or is the wool pulled perfectly,
over your eyes with certainty?

Have you smelled the burning wood,
of a pyre set, if not you should.
Could you think of a time you’d stand,
give the down-trodden a helping hand?

Will you ever be much more
than what you’ve already been before?
If not would you open the door, walk out,
so another might enter for a bout?

Enclosed are these questions I am forced to ask,
not at gunpoint or in conceit, but as honor’s task.
If more explanation you require,
put your feet to the fire–

We all have a responsibility,
to life and world, man and country.
For it is we whom made them,
and are the only hope to save them.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Collectively Blessed

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Words have little meaning,
when stripped and revealing,
naked and bleeding–
what wisdom we’re eating.

Silken smooth and pale-white,
the skin of a mistress that might,
in a wave of domination and foresight,
ensure we’re blind-folded against right.

Were we to see beyond the veil,
what it is these words truly entail,
from ignorant waters we’d sail,
to lands of knowledge we’d hail.

It is with great dignity,
we must admire shame, you see,
it is wanton and lustfully,
encapsulated with ignoramity.

Ah, but to what do we jest,
when we find the undressed,
has naught been caressed,
the tongues long repressed?

Educate them,
and in their minds hem,
the ever-brilliant gem,
of words and meaning with phlegm.

Only then can we,
be assured that we’ll see,
an end to a painful plea,
and within foster no more enmity.

So once our words are redressed–
this much to be pressed–
they’ll be no more distressed,
forever we’ll be,
collectively blessed.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Stranger

~ S.M. Nolan ~ 1 Comment

The stranger is strange
when just out of view,
comparing the range,
of each bread loaf’s hue.
I’ve no idea,
just what I’m to do,
when I see the stranger,
with bread made for two.

The stranger is strange,
when hidden by night,
you fear their footsteps,
and so revel in light.
When once they pass,
without second sight,
you see the stranger,
means not to fight.

The stranger is strange,
‘specially in the full-moon,
they’ve bright whitened teeth,
a view with no boon.
Yet look through their eyes,
just a little to gloom,
you feel the stranger,
at home in your room.

We are the strangers,
alone on the path,
that each of us is asked,
to walk without wrath,
But sometimes we forget,
start a blood bath,
of strangers and strangeness,
from poor mental math.

Fear not the stranger,
who smiles at your face
no matter the danger,
we’re all the same race,
for strangeness is Human,
and so too’s our place;
acceptance and tolerance, compassion and grace,
for a stranger seems strangest,
when you greet with a mace.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Entertain The Dead

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Breathe fire.
Light my pyre.
Beat the funeral drum,
feel the rhythm.

Entertain the dead,
no matter your dread,
for their station is long,
and they’re in need of song.

Bring them together,
and incite with a feather,
that tickles their minds and hearts,
ensures they play their parts.

For the passed,
will always outlast,
those of us whom on the Earth live,
ever-subject to death’s sieve.

Embrace the lovers,
fight the fighters,
enchain those that wish to be,
and chase those that wish to flee.

Whatever their poison,
choose it with poise ‘n,
embrace them eternally.
Only then can we be free–

Free to see,
What life’s passing eternity,
has for the liberated,
only then might hunger be sated,
And only then might life thus be rated,
and only then might the risks go un-stated,
and only then might the created,
find peace and entertain the dead.