YOUR BODY NEXT TO MINE
We roamed the town from spot to spot,
And when we got a bit too hot,
We shared a glass of golden wine;
Come lay your body next to mine.
We strolled museums one by one,
Enjoyed a spree of high class fun,
The art we viewed was truly fine;
Come lay your body next to mine.
We found the divey music dens,
And tapped our toes to now-and-thens,
The jazz was slipper sole divine;
Come lay your body next to mine.
We walked the neon streets alone,
And made the night our very own,
You sighed like silk and moved like shine;
Come lay your body next to mine.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Kyrielle
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
(136) July 9, 2010: No Tomorrow
NO TOMORROW
The ceiling fan is spinning down
It's temporary airy sound.
There's nothing true that I can borrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
My love's asleep beside me here,
Her quiet breathing, Time's frontier,
A steady speeding golden arrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
I'm covered by these crimson sheets,
I feel my heart's insistent beats,
My blood the gift of bone and marrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow
The sky is clear, the air is thin,
The mind it's play begins again.
It's time to climb Mount Kilimanjaro;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Kyrielle
The ceiling fan is spinning down
It's temporary airy sound.
There's nothing true that I can borrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
My love's asleep beside me here,
Her quiet breathing, Time's frontier,
A steady speeding golden arrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
I'm covered by these crimson sheets,
I feel my heart's insistent beats,
My blood the gift of bone and marrow;
Today's today there's no tomorrow
The sky is clear, the air is thin,
The mind it's play begins again.
It's time to climb Mount Kilimanjaro;
Today's today there's no tomorrow.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Kyrielle
(135) July 8, 2010: A Story In Verse, Part 4: Over The Chasm
A Story In Verse, Part 4: OVER THE CHASM
Awakening from dreams that have never been dreamed,
The scorch of the day pooling sweat in my eyes,
I staggered up faint and through razors I screamed,
My throat full of froth and all clotted with flies;
A vulture had landed to greet my demise.
Behind me the crevice, abyssmal and still,
The blast of the tempest expunged and serene;
So eerie the hush, my voice echoed shrill—
A child exhausted with fear inbetween
A bottomless pit and an eating machine.
I looked to the left and I looked to the right,
Behind me the chasm, before me the bird;
I wished for a moment I'd died in the night.
Which way should I run, each way unpreferred?
And then came the answer, completely absurd.
I asked the great vulture to give me a ride,
To carry me over the pit of remorse.
He answered me, "Sir, I would do so with pride."
And lifted his head growing large as a horse,
With Pegasus wings of incredible force.
"Climb up if you're willing." He said as he bowed,
His two giant legs kneeing down in the dust.
And tipping a wing like a stair he allowed
My tottering legs to step up and adjust
On his featherless neck I had chosen to trust.
"I'll carry you over, but don't you look down.
One look and you’re screaming—a song decomposed.
You’ll fall in the noise till you pray for the sound,
The drum-beating rhythm your heart has composed,
The sound of sweet silence embraced and enclosed.”
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
Awakening from dreams that have never been dreamed,
The scorch of the day pooling sweat in my eyes,
I staggered up faint and through razors I screamed,
My throat full of froth and all clotted with flies;
A vulture had landed to greet my demise.
Behind me the crevice, abyssmal and still,
The blast of the tempest expunged and serene;
So eerie the hush, my voice echoed shrill—
A child exhausted with fear inbetween
A bottomless pit and an eating machine.
I looked to the left and I looked to the right,
Behind me the chasm, before me the bird;
I wished for a moment I'd died in the night.
Which way should I run, each way unpreferred?
And then came the answer, completely absurd.
I asked the great vulture to give me a ride,
To carry me over the pit of remorse.
He answered me, "Sir, I would do so with pride."
And lifted his head growing large as a horse,
With Pegasus wings of incredible force.
"Climb up if you're willing." He said as he bowed,
His two giant legs kneeing down in the dust.
And tipping a wing like a stair he allowed
My tottering legs to step up and adjust
On his featherless neck I had chosen to trust.
"I'll carry you over, but don't you look down.
One look and you’re screaming—a song decomposed.
You’ll fall in the noise till you pray for the sound,
The drum-beating rhythm your heart has composed,
The sound of sweet silence embraced and enclosed.”
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
(134) July 7, 2010: The Barista's Blend
THE BARISTA'S BLEND
The Water comes down and the Fire goes up,
The Wind spins around and the Earth's in a cup.
The elements blend and their blending is sweet,
As sweet as the latte you sip while you tweet—
That digital taste for the zips and the rips,
Embedded and shredded removable chips
Of chocolate, vanilla, and carmel panache.
Whatever you're doing don't empty the trash.
It's all in the way you've imported the beans,
And if you've been faithful to clean the machines,
Bacterias come and the viruses go,
They go for the cutest baristas who know
The meaning of life and the clue to the games,
The chart (periodic), the new user names
Of every invader and phisher of files,
Their coffee served up in the grandest of styles.
Don't say it's too costly to pay for a drink
Of flowing elixir that speaks with a wink,
And listens like leather about to be worn,
Or something like beauty about to be born.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Rhyming Couplets
The Water comes down and the Fire goes up,
The Wind spins around and the Earth's in a cup.
The elements blend and their blending is sweet,
As sweet as the latte you sip while you tweet—
That digital taste for the zips and the rips,
Embedded and shredded removable chips
Of chocolate, vanilla, and carmel panache.
Whatever you're doing don't empty the trash.
It's all in the way you've imported the beans,
And if you've been faithful to clean the machines,
Bacterias come and the viruses go,
They go for the cutest baristas who know
The meaning of life and the clue to the games,
The chart (periodic), the new user names
Of every invader and phisher of files,
Their coffee served up in the grandest of styles.
Don't say it's too costly to pay for a drink
Of flowing elixir that speaks with a wink,
And listens like leather about to be worn,
Or something like beauty about to be born.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Rhyming Couplets
(133) July 6, 2010: Construction 4: Bots Dots & Pinwheels
CONSTRUCTION 4: BOTS DOTS & PINWHEELS
Find a stretch of country road all desolate at night.
Find it when the sky is clear, the moon is full and bright.
Take a bunch of pinwheels made to magnify the light,
Made of cut-up roadway signs like No Left Turn & Stop.
Drill a hole by every dot, and fill each one with glop.
Glop means glue, I knew you knew; just let it go kerplop.
Stick a pinwheel stick in every hole until it dries.
Do be careful not to get the bot-glue in your eyes.
Cars may pass but you'll be dressed in some benign disguise.
Fifty pinwheels ought to do, five hundred would be best.
Work until the sun comes up, or till you face arrest.
When you're done go take your car and give the road a test.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Monorhyme
Find a stretch of country road all desolate at night.
Find it when the sky is clear, the moon is full and bright.
Take a bunch of pinwheels made to magnify the light,
Made of cut-up roadway signs like No Left Turn & Stop.
Drill a hole by every dot, and fill each one with glop.
Glop means glue, I knew you knew; just let it go kerplop.
Stick a pinwheel stick in every hole until it dries.
Do be careful not to get the bot-glue in your eyes.
Cars may pass but you'll be dressed in some benign disguise.
Fifty pinwheels ought to do, five hundred would be best.
Work until the sun comes up, or till you face arrest.
When you're done go take your car and give the road a test.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Monorhyme
(132) July 5, 2010: Semicircular Prayer
SEMICIRCULAR PRAYER
Good morning God I don’t feel good,
And though my head’s attached,
It isn’t working as it should,
I think my brain’s detached;
I need some Treatment if You would.
I know my eyes are open wide,
But I can’t see a thing.
I feel an ear on either side,
But all they do is ring;
Perhaps my cranial nerves are fried.
I’m standing on my own two feet,
But not for long I fear.
I’ll try my best to be discrete
When my old inner ear
Decides to dump me on the street.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
Good morning God I don’t feel good,
And though my head’s attached,
It isn’t working as it should,
I think my brain’s detached;
I need some Treatment if You would.
I know my eyes are open wide,
But I can’t see a thing.
I feel an ear on either side,
But all they do is ring;
Perhaps my cranial nerves are fried.
I’m standing on my own two feet,
But not for long I fear.
I’ll try my best to be discrete
When my old inner ear
Decides to dump me on the street.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
(131) July 4, 2010: A Story In Verse, Part 3: Across The Flatlands
A Story In Verse, Part 3: ACROSS THE FLATLANDS
I followed the bird with its herald of love,
Imagined it hovered about and above,
As white as a cloudlet all empty of rain—
The magical bird I'd been dreaming of
That kept me engaging the barren terrain.
The dunes now behind me, the flatlands ahead,
I'd heard from my grandfather tales of the dead
All picked to the bone by the vultures that glide
On wings that surpass an eleven foot spread,
That dive on the living who've no place to hide.
So traveling by night with the cross in my eye,
The four fuzzy stars through the dust-shattered sky,
I made my way south doling food from my pack,
A dwindling slosh of a water supply;
My mind pushing forward, my heart pulling back.
When suddenly there up ahead in the gloom
A darkness much darker, a chasm, a tomb;
A column of wind shooting out from the deep
That smelled like the scent of a witch's perfume—
The pungence of incense for langourous sleep.
I stopped like a stone and I stood like a bear,
My senses alert and my muscles aware.
I edged toward the lip of the chasm to look,
Got knocked to the ground by the blast of cold air,
And there, as if frozen, I trembled and shook.
The wind from the chasm was wind of a kind
That blows through your head and erases your mind.
I lay like a living cadaver it seemed,
For hours on end, eyes open but blind,
And fell into visions unwillingly dreamed.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
I followed the bird with its herald of love,
Imagined it hovered about and above,
As white as a cloudlet all empty of rain—
The magical bird I'd been dreaming of
That kept me engaging the barren terrain.
The dunes now behind me, the flatlands ahead,
I'd heard from my grandfather tales of the dead
All picked to the bone by the vultures that glide
On wings that surpass an eleven foot spread,
That dive on the living who've no place to hide.
So traveling by night with the cross in my eye,
The four fuzzy stars through the dust-shattered sky,
I made my way south doling food from my pack,
A dwindling slosh of a water supply;
My mind pushing forward, my heart pulling back.
When suddenly there up ahead in the gloom
A darkness much darker, a chasm, a tomb;
A column of wind shooting out from the deep
That smelled like the scent of a witch's perfume—
The pungence of incense for langourous sleep.
I stopped like a stone and I stood like a bear,
My senses alert and my muscles aware.
I edged toward the lip of the chasm to look,
Got knocked to the ground by the blast of cold air,
And there, as if frozen, I trembled and shook.
The wind from the chasm was wind of a kind
That blows through your head and erases your mind.
I lay like a living cadaver it seemed,
For hours on end, eyes open but blind,
And fell into visions unwillingly dreamed.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
(130) July 3, 2010: A Story In Verse: 2 - The Knowledge
The Story In Verse, Part 2: THE KNOWLEDGE
My grandfather taught me the way of the runes,
The symbols on stones that he tossed in the bowls,
The clearest of pebbles like seven full moons;
Consulting each morning those Seven Old Souls
To help him determine his two daily goals.
One day was repairs and a rabbit for meat,
The next was a blade to be sharpened and shined,
And a poultice of melon to rub on his feet.
Each day had a name and a number combined
To write in the book and to keep in the mind.
My grandfather died on the day I turned ten,
The hair on his head just as white as a moth.
I burned his remains in the desolate fen.
I sprinkled his dust in the Cup full of broth,
Took only one sip; poured the rest on the Cloth.
I followed the Knowledge the best that I could,
And lived in the dunes for another ten years.
But then in my dreaming I saw the deep wood,
The forest that harbored my ominous fears,
That grew by the sea of my sorrowful tears.
“Come down to the ocean and flourish your sail.”
The song of the bird in my dreaming beseeched.
I’d not seen the ocean except in a pail
Drawn up from the depths of the well’s easy reach.
The ocean for me was a figure of speech.
But just like I know when I’m thirsty for drink,
I knew that this bird was from someone above—
A spirit beyond my endowment to think;
And the forested seacoast I kept dreaming of,
A promise of something I knew must be love.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
My grandfather taught me the way of the runes,
The symbols on stones that he tossed in the bowls,
The clearest of pebbles like seven full moons;
Consulting each morning those Seven Old Souls
To help him determine his two daily goals.
One day was repairs and a rabbit for meat,
The next was a blade to be sharpened and shined,
And a poultice of melon to rub on his feet.
Each day had a name and a number combined
To write in the book and to keep in the mind.
My grandfather died on the day I turned ten,
The hair on his head just as white as a moth.
I burned his remains in the desolate fen.
I sprinkled his dust in the Cup full of broth,
Took only one sip; poured the rest on the Cloth.
I followed the Knowledge the best that I could,
And lived in the dunes for another ten years.
But then in my dreaming I saw the deep wood,
The forest that harbored my ominous fears,
That grew by the sea of my sorrowful tears.
“Come down to the ocean and flourish your sail.”
The song of the bird in my dreaming beseeched.
I’d not seen the ocean except in a pail
Drawn up from the depths of the well’s easy reach.
The ocean for me was a figure of speech.
But just like I know when I’m thirsty for drink,
I knew that this bird was from someone above—
A spirit beyond my endowment to think;
And the forested seacoast I kept dreaming of,
A promise of something I knew must be love.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
(129) July 2, 2010: A Story In Verse, Part 1: A Start Of A Journey
A Story In Verse, Part 1: A START OF A JOURNEY
I lived in the desert with no one but me,
No brimming oasis, not even a tree;
My home made of stone and my heart made of glass.
I dreamed of the forest that grew by the sea
With fountains of flowers and rivers of grass.
I woke with a start of a journey in mind,
An inkling of danger, a chill-riddled spine,
My belly in flutters of butterfly flights
Whenever I saw myself leaving behind
The dulcimer dunes and the harpsichord nights.
With only the vaguest of notions I went,
A spring in my step, on my lips a lament,
Amazed with each step as if some other soul
Were moving within me without my consent,
Convincing myself I was out for a stroll.
I walked with the sun, then I walked with the moon,
The sun came again, and I walked until noon.
At last the momentum of rapture subsided,
The flank of a boulder the dust storms had hewn
I gladly received as the shelter provided.
My pack for a pillow, my coat for a quilt,
I dreamed I was plunging my sword to the hilt,
A beast at my feet writhing awful and great—
The dragon of sorrow, the demon of guilt,
The two-headed fury of envy and hate.
I woke with a shiver as cold as the sky,
Took one look around me and didn't know why
I'd wandered so far from my home in the dunes,
Perhaps my good reason had kissed me goodbye,
Or was it the message I'd read in the runes?
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
I lived in the desert with no one but me,
No brimming oasis, not even a tree;
My home made of stone and my heart made of glass.
I dreamed of the forest that grew by the sea
With fountains of flowers and rivers of grass.
I woke with a start of a journey in mind,
An inkling of danger, a chill-riddled spine,
My belly in flutters of butterfly flights
Whenever I saw myself leaving behind
The dulcimer dunes and the harpsichord nights.
With only the vaguest of notions I went,
A spring in my step, on my lips a lament,
Amazed with each step as if some other soul
Were moving within me without my consent,
Convincing myself I was out for a stroll.
I walked with the sun, then I walked with the moon,
The sun came again, and I walked until noon.
At last the momentum of rapture subsided,
The flank of a boulder the dust storms had hewn
I gladly received as the shelter provided.
My pack for a pillow, my coat for a quilt,
I dreamed I was plunging my sword to the hilt,
A beast at my feet writhing awful and great—
The dragon of sorrow, the demon of guilt,
The two-headed fury of envy and hate.
I woke with a shiver as cold as the sky,
Took one look around me and didn't know why
I'd wandered so far from my home in the dunes,
Perhaps my good reason had kissed me goodbye,
Or was it the message I'd read in the runes?
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Quintain Stanza
(128) July 1, 2010: Dead Girl
DEAD GIRL
Dead girl rises late
to blossoming hunger pangs—
her bite of passage
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Haiku
Dead girl rises late
to blossoming hunger pangs—
her bite of passage
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Haiku
(127) June 30, 2010: Can't Beat Poetry
CAN'T BEAT POETRY
You can sail around the world
You can get yourself a girl
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can drive across the land
You can find yourself a man
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can pull a thousand strings
You can get a thousand things
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can make yourself a name
You can find yourself some fame
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
If you've got to have some fun
If you've got to get it done
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Novel Verse Form
You can sail around the world
You can get yourself a girl
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can drive across the land
You can find yourself a man
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can pull a thousand strings
You can get a thousand things
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
You can make yourself a name
You can find yourself some fame
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
If you've got to have some fun
If you've got to get it done
You can have a cup of coffee
You can have a cup of tea
But you can't beat poetry
Da dum...da dum
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Novel Verse Form
(126) June 29, 2010: Farewell, Sweet Dream
FAREWELL, SWEET DREAM
No matter what I tell myself to do,
With arguments fine-tuned to best persuade,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
I’m always premature or overdue;
The time is never right for a crusade,
No matter what I tell myself to do.
The stage is set but the actors are too few,
And though the lights go up and the band is played,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
My practiced speech is ready for debut,
And yet I wait immobile and afraid,
No matter what I tell myself to do.
Conceiving and believing? Yes I do!
And even when I trash the masquerade,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
And now, relieved, I bid my dream adieu.
The truth I’ve known, my heart’s at last conveyed:
No matter what I tell myself to do,
I still won't ever drop the other shoe.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Villanelle
No matter what I tell myself to do,
With arguments fine-tuned to best persuade,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
I’m always premature or overdue;
The time is never right for a crusade,
No matter what I tell myself to do.
The stage is set but the actors are too few,
And though the lights go up and the band is played,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
My practiced speech is ready for debut,
And yet I wait immobile and afraid,
No matter what I tell myself to do.
Conceiving and believing? Yes I do!
And even when I trash the masquerade,
I still can’t seem to drop the other shoe.
And now, relieved, I bid my dream adieu.
The truth I’ve known, my heart’s at last conveyed:
No matter what I tell myself to do,
I still won't ever drop the other shoe.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Villanelle
(125) June 28, 2010: What Is Is What What Is
WHAT IS IS WHAT WHAT IS
No matter what I say,
What is is what what is.
A circumstance chalked up to Chance
Is just the what that is.
Exactly what that is,
Is melted in the Stream.
And how it flows I cannot know
My dullness too extreme.
The Stream is not a stream,
The Flow is not a flow,
This metaphor is nothing more
Than saying I don’t know.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Ballad Meter
No matter what I say,
What is is what what is.
A circumstance chalked up to Chance
Is just the what that is.
Exactly what that is,
Is melted in the Stream.
And how it flows I cannot know
My dullness too extreme.
The Stream is not a stream,
The Flow is not a flow,
This metaphor is nothing more
Than saying I don’t know.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Ballad Meter
(124) June 27, 2010: WIth Joy Unspeakably Extreme
WITH JOY UNSPEAKABLY EXTREME
Our God defends us every day
Protects us from the Devil's snares
His Holy Spirit lights our way
We walk in truth where no one dares
We walk in truth where no one dares
We walk in truth where no one dares
His Holy Spirit lights our way
We walk in truth where no one dares
In Christ we stand where others fall
Our confidence in Him complete
At His sweet Spirit's whispered call
We leap by faith without defeat
We leap by faith without defeat
We leap by faith without defeat
At His sweet Spirit's whispered call
We leap by faith without defeat
The Holy Spirit fills our minds
With joy unspeakably extreme
In nothing else such joy we find
For by His blood we are redeemed
For by His blood we are redeemed
For by His blood we are redeemed
In nothing else such joy we find
For by His blood we are redeemed
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Hymn Lyrics
Our God defends us every day
Protects us from the Devil's snares
His Holy Spirit lights our way
We walk in truth where no one dares
We walk in truth where no one dares
We walk in truth where no one dares
His Holy Spirit lights our way
We walk in truth where no one dares
In Christ we stand where others fall
Our confidence in Him complete
At His sweet Spirit's whispered call
We leap by faith without defeat
We leap by faith without defeat
We leap by faith without defeat
At His sweet Spirit's whispered call
We leap by faith without defeat
The Holy Spirit fills our minds
With joy unspeakably extreme
In nothing else such joy we find
For by His blood we are redeemed
For by His blood we are redeemed
For by His blood we are redeemed
In nothing else such joy we find
For by His blood we are redeemed
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Hymn Lyrics
(123) June 26, 2010: All Said & Done
ALL SAID & DONE
Would you like to be real, Wikipedia-real,
With your name all in black and your links all in blue,
What the students will find when they’re searching for you?
Would you like to be wise, Wikipedia-wise,
With the best of your work all precise and unchanged,
And the footnotes and references neatly arranged?
Would you like to be known, Wikipedia-known,
For your clever remarks and your depth of good sense?
Then you’d better get down to your past perfect tense.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Novel Verse Form
Would you like to be real, Wikipedia-real,
With your name all in black and your links all in blue,
What the students will find when they’re searching for you?
Would you like to be wise, Wikipedia-wise,
With the best of your work all precise and unchanged,
And the footnotes and references neatly arranged?
Would you like to be known, Wikipedia-known,
For your clever remarks and your depth of good sense?
Then you’d better get down to your past perfect tense.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Novel Verse Form
(122) June 25, 2010: What I Want
WHAT I WANT
I’ll tell you now just what I want,
The day you find me dead and gaunt,
Go lather up your legs and shave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
When all the eulogies are said,
And your blue eyes are puffy red,
It’s time for you to misbehave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
Just call the girls to get the guys,
Forget the wherefores and the whys,
Go find yourself a kindly knave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
I hope the moon is full that night,
(I’ll do my best to time it right),
And you’ll announce my tomb side rave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Kyrielle
I’ll tell you now just what I want,
The day you find me dead and gaunt,
Go lather up your legs and shave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
When all the eulogies are said,
And your blue eyes are puffy red,
It’s time for you to misbehave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
Just call the girls to get the guys,
Forget the wherefores and the whys,
Go find yourself a kindly knave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
I hope the moon is full that night,
(I’ll do my best to time it right),
And you’ll announce my tomb side rave,
And build a dance floor on my grave.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Kyrielle
(121) June 24, 2010: Sweet Significance - A Love Story
SWEET SIGNIFICANCE—A LOVE STORY
He’s a spurious digit and everyone knows,
No matter how clever his math-manic prose,
His vacant expression is all that it shows.
They call him a cipher, a nothing, a naught,
A circular reference, a bubble, a blot;
His brain is a goose egg that can’t hold a thought
But last night he went out for a leisurely roll,
And found a sad Three who he tried to console.
She was right of the decimal not feeling quite whole,
So he offered to bump her once left from the right
To help her reverse her superfluous plight.
She gave him a look mixing fear and delight.
“I’ll be gentle,” he told her, “You won’t feel a thing.”
And there on the spot he sprang her a spring,
And she, “Oh my gosh! I’m commencing a fling
With a crazy-eyed zero!” and landed with grace
And a smile, in a westerly decimal place,
As a bit of a blush multiplied on her face.
Then before she could thank him he did it again
And bumped her once more by a power of ten.
“That’s all I can do.” He said with a grin.
“My goodness,” she said, “I’d never ask more.
Since you leaped to my rescue and made my heart soar,
I’m a hundred times better than I was before!”
“It's YOU, Miss” he said, “I’m as proud as a pig.
Since I leaped to your rescue I'm feeling so big.
Thank YOU, I’m at last a Significant Fig!”
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Monorhyme
He’s a spurious digit and everyone knows,
No matter how clever his math-manic prose,
His vacant expression is all that it shows.
They call him a cipher, a nothing, a naught,
A circular reference, a bubble, a blot;
His brain is a goose egg that can’t hold a thought
But last night he went out for a leisurely roll,
And found a sad Three who he tried to console.
She was right of the decimal not feeling quite whole,
So he offered to bump her once left from the right
To help her reverse her superfluous plight.
She gave him a look mixing fear and delight.
“I’ll be gentle,” he told her, “You won’t feel a thing.”
And there on the spot he sprang her a spring,
And she, “Oh my gosh! I’m commencing a fling
With a crazy-eyed zero!” and landed with grace
And a smile, in a westerly decimal place,
As a bit of a blush multiplied on her face.
Then before she could thank him he did it again
And bumped her once more by a power of ten.
“That’s all I can do.” He said with a grin.
“My goodness,” she said, “I’d never ask more.
Since you leaped to my rescue and made my heart soar,
I’m a hundred times better than I was before!”
“It's YOU, Miss” he said, “I’m as proud as a pig.
Since I leaped to your rescue I'm feeling so big.
Thank YOU, I’m at last a Significant Fig!”
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Monorhyme
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