Tag Archives: Rhyme

from a distance

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the lawn looks lovely lovely and wet a valley bucolic comelier yet everything lovely as further you get as then when much closer you get what you vet ©2015, Marvin Welborn 28 July 2015

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Episodical

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…. The puppy of Hooville pees where he must! While two Robins fight for the very same bush. A man walks his Bulldog, he’s taking it home; Where there, the dog buries a well hidden bone. A lady of genteel lives all alone, She Lives off a trust, a family capstone. She hires the young […] Continue reading →

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The Safe Distance Silence

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~ A silence abounds,  when we make our rounds, my two dogs and I on our walks.   There are houses with spouses, singles, and what-nots. They don’t wave, they won’t smile, nor talk.   This silence astounds on these daily done rounds, it’s the sounds of a safe distance silence.   Some cut-level looks, non-verbal […] Continue reading →

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Flying Into Fall

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~ 
Sometimes I go out, my fly, wide open; most times, I won’t catch it, at all! ~ perhaps, it’s a stretch of old imagination, or hoping, it’s a Freudian Slip – not Fall. ~ But aging is different, by old and tired bodies; raging Young archetypes spring forth and then fall. ~ And a […] Continue reading →

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The Heart of the Beast

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~ There’s just so much non-sense a soul can endure, From trivial minded, decided, obdure. I met one, one time, demeaning for sure, The current machine as debase and impure. Oh sure, they still do it, again and again; Forever and ever, and on to no end. Things just get bad for whoever is in. […] Continue reading →

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The Long Conversation

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~ Who am I? What is my Purpose? What is the Meaning of Life? How should I know my Role in the Cosmos? Why do I have to die? What is this Love, and Sorrow and Laughter? What is this Yearning to Try? And why does it Turn, all that we Learn, Back, into Dust […] Continue reading →

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In the Conceit of a Poem

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~ By its shapes, how it smells, and by looking to tell all the whats, wheres and whens to the senses, a poet survives by bringing alive all those thats, theres and thens to the pensées. And all, by deceit! Word-verbiage feat! Ah well. What the hell. What’s the metaphor for, but conceit. And you […] Continue reading →

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The Impermanence of Chaos

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~ I am so happy, safe and content; a self-made man, I am provident. Long on my laurels, I’m short in the gains; where fate shares the fortune, I’ll take all the blame. Though now I am here, I’ve been somewhere else; on every occasion, I’m not the same self. A self-made man, but I […] Continue reading →

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In Still Life

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~ William H. Bonney had nowhere to go, But history, written in pages. So, memory serves the moment to show What’s hot at the moment, some moments ago. But nobody knows who must be chosen, When someone must stay in history, frozen. Strange be the phases of changes by stages, Where memory stays and no […] Continue reading →

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The Age of Experience

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~ And Sixty-Seven ended much different, and different it was from the decade before. The Fifties were nifty, but sad and a bore; the Sixties had plenty of hope held in store. One decade long is not a long span, compared to the world, a flash for the Man. The Age of Experience – You […] Continue reading →

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PolyAmorPhisms

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~ The bearded ladies suddenly swoon and one by one, they break into bloom. And all, by mid-May days! The late ones in June. It’s then these late ladies come to subsume all the late babies of first spring, at noon. Then later, the one-eyed- Susans assume, by which time the ladies have lost all […] Continue reading →

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Evermore!

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~ I’ve still more pages! More verse-rhyme to write. Pent-up the Crages Last long into night. The Crages are Rages, Too Crazy to fight. My wage is More Pages! More verse-rhyme to write. Offer me water, Proffer me bread! I’m just a prisoner, Inside my head. My Penance, the Sentence – It’s writing, instead. “Write […] Continue reading →

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Blame it on Logic

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~ I still write on paper, I still use a pen; Made in the Fifties, The Sixties I am. Bless me, sweet Mama, Bless if you can; A turn of the cent’ry, A teenager again. The turn of the cent’ry Is where I now am, But born to the Sixties A Rock-n-Roll Man. My Pop […] Continue reading →

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Truman Capote

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~ Another book finished, A much smarter man; Reading the first part, Then jumping to end. Truman Capote, That’s how he would wend Through hundreds of good books, If not a thousand. ~ And when he had finished He claimed that he knew All of the writings Of writers – He knew! Not a close […] Continue reading →

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An Image Also Has Words

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~ A squirrel lie unfurled, from end-to-end curled, near a corner, on the sidewalk, by the street. My dog stops to smell, but she cannot tell what chance there befell her, she greets. A small gray squirrel now gone to the world, in soul, but body still keeps. ~ One trick was plenty, the last […] Continue reading →

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