Posts Tagged ‘Villanelle’

Dreamsuckers

March 20, 2013

politician

a politician is an arse upon
which everyone has sat except a man

—e.e.cummings

With greed that festers like a stinking flower
Every breath you suck promotes a scheme
The only thing you care about is power

Glory-seeking minions don’t see how you’re
Warping minds by tapping ageless themes
With greed that festers like a stinking flower

All you see are lambs to be devoured
With gluttony that feeds on hopes and dreams
The only thing you care about is power

If I were you I’d always need a shower
You curdle filth and throw away the cream
With greed that festers like a stinking flower

Lackeys sing your praises by the hour
Like starstruck fans support the local team
The only thing you care about is power

Piling up your lies, you build a tower
And live a life that’s nothing like it seems
With greed that festers like a stinking flower
The only thing you care about is power

Richard W. Bray

Pain

August 15, 2012

Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul—

—Emily Dickinson

 

 

Pain’s not something I should fear
From feel to think there is no line
Pain got me from there to here

I try to keep my feelings near
What else is completely mine?
Pain’s not something I should fear

My troubles aren’t for you to hear
I’m not the type to sit and whine
Pain got me from there to here

Pain is something I hold dear
Bounty from a winding vine
Pain’s not something I should fear

I think I’ll have another beer
I won’t stop till I’m feeling fine
Pain got me from there to here

My shaking hands must be a sign
All night long my teeth will grind
Pain’s not something I should fear
Pain got me from there to here

by Richard W. Bray

Like we Love our Kids

November 28, 2010

Like we Love our Kids

Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We broke some stuff and made some noise
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

Methods and motives are better left hid
Nothing’s too good for our girls and boys
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did

Missed every birthday, but I always did
Send a little box of love and joy
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

The mighty don’t fall so much as they skid
Lives and countries have been destroyed
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did

Love ain’t cheap, so what’s your bid?
Can’t you see how much we spend on toys?
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

War and kids: Patriotic joy
Up too close they begin to annoy
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

by Richard W. Bray

The Cavalry of Woe

September 16, 2009


To fight aloud, is very brave—
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe—

—Emily Dickinson

The Cavalry of Woe

There’s just one place I will not go
But we’re not here because of me
There are some things I must not know

The cavalry remains in tow
It’s not about to set me free
There’s just one place I will not go

Does it exist that does not show?
The wound that I will never see
There are some things I must not know

I’ll say again, the answer’s “No.”
It’s not my lock, it’s not my key
There’s just one place I will not go

It’s not the time to trek below
The prudent ones would all agree
There are some things I must not know

The bosom aches with private woe
But it’s best to let it be
There’s just one place I will not go
There are some things I must not know

by Richard W. Bray

I’m Really not a Violent Man

September 15, 2009

I’m Really not a Violent Man

I’m really not a violent man
That’s something you should know
But I could kill with my bare hands

My family bled to get this land
We’re not about to let it go
I’m really not a violent man

To serve the interests of my clan
I’d suffer any blow
But I could kill with my bare hands

It must be part of some great plan
This gruesome tale of woe
I’m really not a violent man

This dreadful little plot of sand
Is hardly worth my little toe
But I could kill with my bare hands

When dirt means more than any man
Then someone’s blood must flow
I’m really not a violent man
But I could kill with my bare hands

by Richard W. Bray

I Let it Fall

September 14, 2009

(I’ll continue with some more villanelles for the next few days. I’m goofy for villanelles. Some of my favorites are “Mad Girl’s Love Song,” “If I could Tell You” and “The Waking.” The cool thing about villanelles is that once you’ve written the first three lines, you’re 42% finished.

There are various ways this poem could be read. I’m not even sure how I wrote it. But it is not meant in any way to advocate suicide. Whether or not any of us deserves to live, an existential outlook requires that we try at least to make the best of it. My poem “Although You cannot Bless” makes it obvious that I don’t have much use for the concept of Grace, but here is an eloquent rebuttal from someone who does.)

I Let it Fall

You flung your heart at me, I let it fall
The greatest gift that I could ever know
I don’t deserve to live, no not at all

Imagine the stupidity and gall
To annihilate what still had room to grow
You flung your heart at me, I let it fall

I sit and cry and try not to recall
The only thing that ever made me whole
I don’t deserve to live, no not at all

I’ll weep and plead and kneel and beg and crawl
But it’s too late to let my feelings show
You flung your heart at me, I let it fall

You won’t see me and won’t return my call
I fear that this will be the final blow
I don’t deserve to live, no not at all

I cannot navigate beyond this wall
I guess it’s really time for me to go
You flung your heart at me, I let it fall
I don’t deserve to live, no not at all

by Richard W. Bray