Words Much Like Poetry

from the beginning, her pull was full of thrill. the attraction of mystery and shadows. her haunting tune drew me to her like the wail of a siren. clandestine meetings on the lonely bench beneath the yellow candle lamp. the cobblestones echoed with unseen horse-trots and chariot chimes. whispers emanate from the corners of my mind as she smiles behind the half shadows. her face is chalk-white pale; haunting. her tog of flawless red and flowing curves. hypnotic. her walk awakening electric attractions. in perfect shadow her eyes aglow and teeth pearl white as she smiles, a purring cat playing with her doomed mouse; the chase her pheromonic ritual. my arousal her hunger, and my pulse the aroma of passion. "hush, little man," she sings in my head, her lips on my neck. and the love bite, a suckle and the goosebumps. my arm grows cold as she sucks my love dry. my neck tickles with tingles and she is ice-cold. fuzzy vision in a deathly embrace and the world is snatched from me. I ...

day's end brings with it a silence that most nights remains broken only by words much like poetry and thought. into that lull I draw forth tableaux of times perhaps best left adrift on the troubled waters of auld lang syne. how viciously wounding though, the refusal of recollection, for at least in memory I can cherish you as once I did. and the inquietude of vast longing, frustration at time's lethargic pace, knows the kindest, though briefest, of stays.

A revisit to this brilliant song poetry. This is from the song "Late Goodbye" in our headlights, staring, bleak, beer cans, deer's eyes on the asphalt, underneath, our crushed plans and my lies lonely street signs, powerlines, they keep on flashing, flashing by and we keep driving into the night it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye and we keep driving into the night it's a late goodbye your breath, hot upon my cheek, and we crossed, that line you made me strong, when I was feeling weak, and we crossed, that one time screaming stop signs, staring wild eyes, keep on flashing, flashing by and we keep driving into the night it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye and we keep driving into the night it's a late goodbye the devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he's dealt us points at your flaming hair, and then we're playing hide and seek I can't breathe easy here, less our trail's gone cold behind us till' in the john mirror...

she looked at him though young, scarcely aware of sorrow she understood he looked, alone at the white stones as they covered the departed and his face hardened against pain little hands tugged at his garments holding a little violet flower and in that moment the soft young face melted his heart even in his final hour the face, though older comforted him, reassured him for freedom was nigh

the jailers stood firm they had spoken; none would come out their host's will almost broken in the prison of the mind they tarried the longing pulls the host asunder pain of expression denied sucked down the whirlpool of silence to the bottom of hushed oblivion the host with a trembling hand seeks the quill of freedom a doorway to the world of speech but the haunting silences dim the words out in the desert of the quashed she came to me in the light her gift the golden sand of metaphoric sophistication and philosophic imagination freedom was thus granted to the stifled and they poured down the quill of freedom smothering dry parchment with the expression of words much like poetry

macabre intrusions, the variety baneful, stench of dungeon rust, an incessant sound of trickles. its avarice though rabid, trapped by twin walls tames it to definition, traps it by constriction. it would be lex talionis , it swears— seething in anger towards pompous bearers of the resplendent whose iron encumbers it. but for a chance it had ignored of Prometheus , the ruse seamless , flawless , light under the cover of shadow , and they struck at the opportune moment ... thundering roars ended in whimpers , ' the Dark Titan is fallen !' they sang , ire mutated into rage the lucent robbing it of its majestic cloak . it had to return, balance had been upset, with light they oppress— their days unoccupied by duels with darker forces. they taunted it, and its strength and will grew, its umbrage tore the earth open, and hades welcomed it home.

by Jerome Hambrick Among the bodies of the humid night Are brave souls left to fight These are the ones they couldn’t save The steaming jungle shall be their only grave Snuffed out by lords of war There’s one left to even the score Pushing her way up through the walls of flesh She goes on to face the final test Taking what weapons they left behind She salutes to her friends one last time Finding their village that very night She prepares herself for the final fight While inside they’re having a feast She rushes in attacking the beast Shot by one, the only that survived her raid Pulls the pin of her last…grenade.

by Kirill Coda I look out onto the world and wonder what it would be like not to plunder or even buckle under, under the weight of all my blunder one's mind does ponder— what if I could turn back time, back to when I was at my prime and maybe commit a victimless crime, or I could just apologise... But for what, I did what any man would do. I listened to my words much like poetry, much like the words of a decree, no man would disagree, that the burden of history is the world's greatest misery. Note: This poem was submitted to Words Much Like Poetry via our project on WEbook.