The Sphinx

Sphinxes
Sphinxes (Photo credit: schmaeche)

 

Sitting all alone

 

on a forgotten throne

 

of desert debris and spoiled human meat

 

No greedy follower to worship

 

nor sacrifices to hold

 

You ate more than your fill

 

and enslaved the needy

 

You’re dead now

 

but   left behind is

 

a feminine mind

 

designed in golden feathers and mane

 

sporting only the heart of a wench

 

who lives only to gain

 

 to watch over your gold

 

that you will never use and never hold

 

The sun eats away its desolate skin

 

The darkness hides its ancient scowl

 

No more riddles to be heard

 

No more answers to be skeered.

 

Left to remind generations to come

 

what  once was strong powerful

 

will fall to the ground

 

and die in vain

 

for  evil has not won

 

and all will be undone.

 

 

Thanks Tim for the inspiration! 🙂

 

 

Never

I wrote this poem after I visited Jonny Coyote‘s blog and read his beautiful poetry! Thank you for sharing and inspiring me.

To Johnny Coyote who in my imagination is a cowboy Stetson and spurs included

forgive my wild imagination Johnny and accept this poem as a peace-offering 🙂

Never…

Never to men

French tribute to the American soldier ww2
French tribute to the American soldier ww2 (Photo credit: Za Rodinu)

Whose heads

Held high

Filled with

Glory and pride

for all the tears they fought

for all the battles they cried

for every little in-between

that was never  known

or even seen

For all the days

Unaccounted for

For the nights

Hidden behind

An empty door

Never……

Never to the brave

Who fell with honor

Never to the strong

How stood

With horror

Never….

will you be forgotten

Never…

Will you be taken for granted

Never

Will you be unloved

You battle because you have to

You battle for what you believe in

You battle for what is just

You believe in peace

And hope no child

Hurts like you do

But remember that

no matter what

you are not alone

And like the light that stands

At harbor

Your light will glow

No matter the storm

Nor fog or snow

Your light will shine

And with privilege be shown.

Passionate Men

 PASSIONS are liken’d best to floods and streams: The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So, when affection yields discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. They that are rich in words, in words discover That they are poor in that which makes a lover. The Silent Lover; Sir Walter […]