Phonetic Limerick

Some Friday morning doggerel for you:

Of odd spellings and sounds, he'd enough—

Duane complained, they were all very tough.

Said his teacher, Ms. Proulx,

"That's enough; you are through."

Said Duane: "Don't you mean that I'm thruff?"

late night poetry

silken cords drawn tight and bite my skin,
bind my limbs, your words a spider's thread
hold me, steal my breath to panting, gasping.
I drown in your slow penetrating venom,
at each pulsing, pounding heart's beat--
the rhythm in your eyes, your promises, presence--
I deeper sink; this laced blood rushes through veins,
flushes skin, pinpricks eyes, and the roar of you fills my ears:
philosophies and dreams, your phantasies.
I cannot fight--I crave surrender--these bonds
embrace my flesh like lovers' hold or a drowned man's shroud
exquisite pleasure in the pain of surrend'ring self to be in you.

The Questing, Pilgrim Way

Inspired by Bill Griffin's "Sojourner," John Masefield's "Sea-Fever" and Sam Seaborne's "What's Next" speech.

The Questing, Pilgrim Way

We must out to the black again, to the roads beyond the sky,
And all I ask are soaring ships and stars at which to aim
the rockets whose cheering roars, emboldened flame,
Launch us to the sea of silver stars whose beauty makes us sigh.

We must out to the black again, for aeons now have shone
the beacons' summon to beyond the sea, the sky, the stars.
And all I ask is a solar wind to the legacy that's ours:
To explore is human destiny, to pursue the great unknown.

We must out to the black again, to the questing, pilgrim way,
To find new holy lands, new stars, new worlds, and realms
For countless souls on gleaming ships, brave pilots at the helms--
All for sunrises of stars unknown, new worlds' glorious day.