PERSONA NON GRATA
It's funny how the Rocking Chair
Keeps nodding at the Clock,
And how the Doorknobs turn and stare
Whenever Groceries knock.
I can't believe how Piano Bench
Keeps pinning down the Rug,
Insisting that it shall not wrench
Nor shall it bunch or shrug.
The Pillows on the Couch pretend
To be oblivious,
To winks the Television sends
That seem lascivious.
And strange it is that standing there
Attending to their Shelf,
The Books have all begun to leer
As if I'm not myself.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #20
Ballad Meter
Sunday, November 7, 2010
(19) March 14, 2010: Leavetaking
LEAVETAKING
I leave my farm all smooth and clean
In search of crops with higher yields,
Take out across the fallow fields,
My bets will hedged in dueling green.
The vegetation rages high,
The inclination rises steep,
On every side phantasms leap
Around the corners of my eyes.
The air is pungent with the scent
Of pollinating fever grass
That paints my trousers as I pass,
With yellow dust of sweet intent.
No pocketful of seeds for me,
No master plan with gardens fair;
I'm on my way toward something rare,
A fanciful philosphy.
The tenets of my creed are few,
The a priori ballast light;
I take the day and leave the night,
I leave the old and take the new.
D. Edgar Lamp
http://www.thedailypoem.org/ #19
In Memoriam Stanza
I leave my farm all smooth and clean
In search of crops with higher yields,
Take out across the fallow fields,
My bets will hedged in dueling green.
The vegetation rages high,
The inclination rises steep,
On every side phantasms leap
Around the corners of my eyes.
The air is pungent with the scent
Of pollinating fever grass
That paints my trousers as I pass,
With yellow dust of sweet intent.
No pocketful of seeds for me,
No master plan with gardens fair;
I'm on my way toward something rare,
A fanciful philosphy.
The tenets of my creed are few,
The a priori ballast light;
I take the day and leave the night,
I leave the old and take the new.
D. Edgar Lamp
http://www.thedailypoem.org/ #19
In Memoriam Stanza
(18) March 13, 2010: End Of Days
END OF DAYS
How long until the End of Days?
My heart is growing weary.
With furrowed brow I stretch my gaze;
How long until the End of Days?
I know such wrath Your love delays,
And with that love You cheer me.
But still how long till End of Days?
My heart is growing weary.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #18
Triolet
How long until the End of Days?
My heart is growing weary.
With furrowed brow I stretch my gaze;
How long until the End of Days?
I know such wrath Your love delays,
And with that love You cheer me.
But still how long till End of Days?
My heart is growing weary.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #18
Triolet
(17) March 12, 2010:: The Laughing Harbinger
THE LAUGHING HARBINGER
I laugh out loud when stars collide,
When comets streaking silver glide
Like witches riding wicked brooms
Across the sky predicting dooms
Of every kind to sweep worldwide;
Above, below, on every side,
No space to run, no place to hide.
But here amid the sonic booms,
I laugh out loud.
When riots in the street outside
Increase their swelling moonstruck tide,
I stroll within my spacious rooms
Amid the wafts of sweet perfumes
Until my glee I cannot hide--
I laugh out loud.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #17
Rondeau
I laugh out loud when stars collide,
When comets streaking silver glide
Like witches riding wicked brooms
Across the sky predicting dooms
Of every kind to sweep worldwide;
Above, below, on every side,
No space to run, no place to hide.
But here amid the sonic booms,
I laugh out loud.
When riots in the street outside
Increase their swelling moonstruck tide,
I stroll within my spacious rooms
Amid the wafts of sweet perfumes
Until my glee I cannot hide--
I laugh out loud.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #17
Rondeau
(16) March 11, 2010: A Certain Bliss
A CERTAIN BLISS
The brimmed synaptic treble clef
From which I bungee jump each night,
Enjoys a view that to the left
Would look the same as to the right.
And up would look the same as down,
As north would south, but in reverse,
The foot of sole, the head of crown,
A pretzel-flip a bit perverse,
But nonetheless a pleasing thing,
An unexpected stranger-kiss
That lollipops a certain swing,
And twists within a certain bliss.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #16
Ballad Meter
The brimmed synaptic treble clef
From which I bungee jump each night,
Enjoys a view that to the left
Would look the same as to the right.
And up would look the same as down,
As north would south, but in reverse,
The foot of sole, the head of crown,
A pretzel-flip a bit perverse,
But nonetheless a pleasing thing,
An unexpected stranger-kiss
That lollipops a certain swing,
And twists within a certain bliss.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #16
Ballad Meter
(15) March 10, 2010: Failure
FAILURE
Fortune gathers those who know,
All the seasons take their turn,
Instant while the moments glow,
Logic binds the rapturous burn,
Urgent weather aches to go,
Rising fractal through the fern,
Eager toward its final show.
Favor garlands those who win,
Always brings the nascent bloom.
Ill-equipped the fools begin,
Laughing in the face of gloom,
Unction cannot cure their sin,
Reverie within the tomb,
Ether makes them small and thin.
Fame ignites for those who stay,
Answers play their hide and seek,
Islands rise to greet the day.
Languid kings in riddles speak,
Urchins left in love's cliche;
Raucous, raging, hollow, weak.
Even failures find their way.
D. Edgar Lamp
http://www.thedailypoem.org #15
Acrostic
Fortune gathers those who know,
All the seasons take their turn,
Instant while the moments glow,
Logic binds the rapturous burn,
Urgent weather aches to go,
Rising fractal through the fern,
Eager toward its final show.
Favor garlands those who win,
Always brings the nascent bloom.
Ill-equipped the fools begin,
Laughing in the face of gloom,
Unction cannot cure their sin,
Reverie within the tomb,
Ether makes them small and thin.
Fame ignites for those who stay,
Answers play their hide and seek,
Islands rise to greet the day.
Languid kings in riddles speak,
Urchins left in love's cliche;
Raucous, raging, hollow, weak.
Even failures find their way.
D. Edgar Lamp
http://www.thedailypoem.org #15
Acrostic
(14) March 9, 2010: It's Not A Thing Of Beauty
IT'S NOT A THING OF BEAUTY
It's not a thing of beauty but it's tue,
We feel it like a telescopic view,
It doesn't qualify as something new,
But still it beats within the rhythm's blue
And takes its measure off the phantom's wing,
Removes the very essence from the thing,
Retards the way we hear it when we sing,
And seals the matter with its signet ring.
No mortal man or beast has seen it pass,
It slips from place to place like polished glass,
The catapult of time it can surpass
As energy returns it to its mass.
And if the labyrinth of chance may choose,
A finger-snap will light its flashing fuse.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #14
Sonnet
It's not a thing of beauty but it's tue,
We feel it like a telescopic view,
It doesn't qualify as something new,
But still it beats within the rhythm's blue
And takes its measure off the phantom's wing,
Removes the very essence from the thing,
Retards the way we hear it when we sing,
And seals the matter with its signet ring.
No mortal man or beast has seen it pass,
It slips from place to place like polished glass,
The catapult of time it can surpass
As energy returns it to its mass.
And if the labyrinth of chance may choose,
A finger-snap will light its flashing fuse.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #14
Sonnet
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