Beneath the Boards


Getting back into the flow of writing, mostly with wordplay and poems. I'm a creative soul, from childhood to middle age, and my joy is to produce new things the world has never seen before. I'm an educator from the USA working as a college professor of lit and music. I'm learning to love myself little by little.

Forbidden freshness cools beneath the boards

Unwilling hornets sting the burst balloon

And gnaw the captured heirs with sated swords,

Projected slowly into sprightly tune.

It's just as if he'd never left the stage,

The flaccid vaccination of the ill--

When goddess Venus pinions curious rage,

She loves the fractures, with or 'gainst her will.

But tell me, Loaf, why raise your mast so high?

Cannot you and your hand prevent the past

From melting sweetly backwards, nettle-shy,

The consecrated mixture swirling vast

Upon the tonsils, puncturing the tongue

And scintillating gently through ripped ribs?

Did you collect the nectar midst the dung?

Can words of beauty flow from blistered nibs?


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Comments (1 so far!)

Average reader rating 5.00/5



This is going to take some effort to decipher. You stick to your form very nicely.

  • #485 Posted 6 years ago
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