c2011 (S)
With deadly malice and unerring aim
The slender bolt, its point touched with flame
Into the thatch, so carelessly flown
The hand is revealed, the face still unknown
And the raging flames by the strong winds are blown
Out of the smoke, straight through the pyre
An apparition, he steps from the fire
His armour bright, the blade strong and true...
Lo and behold, from his ashes and his dust
The Phoenix arises, as surely he must--
Surely he knows thee, and the flavour of your mind
For you always come back, and when it is time
He will make short work, of you and your kind.
Shalako Publishing. A showcase of poetry, art, music, and whatever else we can jam in here.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Mystery
c2011 (S)
The Eleusinian mysteries unfold,
In the darkness of the caverns, in the distant days of old.
For the bright young man who dared, revealed;
By the torches red glare, a sword, tested and annealed.
A scholar by nature, yet destined for purple.
He drank from the fountain, blessed waters that gurgled.
And Julian, in all his humble wisdom,
Swore upon his honour to achieve two things:
Revenge, against the enemies of Rome;
And to restore the Gods to their former glory.
Marching forth at the head of his legions,
Deeper and deeper into the dry desert regions,
The scholar forgot the bloody lessons of history;
Why he should do so, remains quite a mystery,
In the end all was vanity, no one knows why.
A Parthian lance in his guts he did earn,
And with homely courage, his fate he did learn.
There upon the vast empty plain of Carrhae.
Julian forgot, that just like foolish sovereigns,
All of the ancient gods must die.
The Eleusinian mysteries unfold,
In the darkness of the caverns, in the distant days of old.
For the bright young man who dared, revealed;
By the torches red glare, a sword, tested and annealed.
A scholar by nature, yet destined for purple.
He drank from the fountain, blessed waters that gurgled.
And Julian, in all his humble wisdom,
Swore upon his honour to achieve two things:
Revenge, against the enemies of Rome;
And to restore the Gods to their former glory.
Marching forth at the head of his legions,
Deeper and deeper into the dry desert regions,
The scholar forgot the bloody lessons of history;
Why he should do so, remains quite a mystery,
In the end all was vanity, no one knows why.
A Parthian lance in his guts he did earn,
And with homely courage, his fate he did learn.
There upon the vast empty plain of Carrhae.
Julian forgot, that just like foolish sovereigns,
All of the ancient gods must die.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sorries for Online Training.
c2011Shalako
One of the things that irks me is trying to put a hyperlink in a Blogger post.
In order to try again to learn, I've cooked up another experiment. The basic premise of which, is that you can get anything you want on the internet, using a few simple key search terms, such as, 'standard play writing format.'
The results may be found here.
Sorries for the online training session, but I nailed it on the third try. And I don't know how to test the link in 'preview.'
Thank you!
One of the things that irks me is trying to put a hyperlink in a Blogger post.
In order to try again to learn, I've cooked up another experiment. The basic premise of which, is that you can get anything you want on the internet, using a few simple key search terms, such as, 'standard play writing format.'
The results may be found here.
Sorries for the online training session, but I nailed it on the third try. And I don't know how to test the link in 'preview.'
Thank you!
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Wood Carving.
This wood carving or sculpture is located at Centennial Park in Sarnia. I don't know who is doing it, but when I find out I'll add the credit. This is an old tree and there are several animal figures, including a reaccoon, a fish, and an owl. It's hard to say if it's finished or not, as there are still scaffolding pieces around. It will be interesting to see if the artist paints it or simply lets it weather.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
A Poem: Mr. Robot
c2011Shalako
This poem originally appeared in 'Twisted Tongue' #16.
I, robot
Don’t have the capacity
To dream about tomorrow
But I never spell a word wrong
Fueled up, brains all loaded
With everything that’s passed
And I have no place to go
I can never die
As long as the batteries last
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come
I have never speculated
As to where I came from
Did I spring from the dust?
Was I created?
I’ve never cared. I’ve never asked.
Simply because it’s easier
In the Good Lord I trust
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come
Cryogenic heart, skin a polished silver
One thing I am glad of
For this I thank my builder
I can never rust.
And in my own self-assumptions;
I place my deepest trust
I, robot; am happy within myself.
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come…
Twisted Tongue #16:
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/twisted-tongue-magazine-issue-16/11780060
http://badpoetsclub.blogspot.com/2011/01/mr-robot.html (Blog link for my original post.)
This poem originally appeared in 'Twisted Tongue' #16.
I, robot
Don’t have the capacity
To dream about tomorrow
But I never spell a word wrong
Fueled up, brains all loaded
With everything that’s passed
And I have no place to go
I can never die
As long as the batteries last
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come
I have never speculated
As to where I came from
Did I spring from the dust?
Was I created?
I’ve never cared. I’ve never asked.
Simply because it’s easier
In the Good Lord I trust
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come
Cryogenic heart, skin a polished silver
One thing I am glad of
For this I thank my builder
I can never rust.
And in my own self-assumptions;
I place my deepest trust
I, robot; am happy within myself.
Here I come
Here I come
Here I come…
Twisted Tongue #16:
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/twisted-tongue-magazine-issue-16/11780060
http://badpoetsclub.blogspot.com/2011/01/mr-robot.html (Blog link for my original post.)
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