Contagion

You're the poison in the marrow

You're the harbingers of war,

Like a pestilence upon us

You're the oil on the shore.

You're a cancerous contusion

You're in every tribe and creed,

Like a virus in our children

You're the maggot in the seed.

You're the liar in the logic

You're the fracture in the whole,

Like a bitter, spiteful canker

You're a shadow on the soul.

You're the bigots and the racists

You're the evil at the gate,

Like a proselytising serpent

You're the colloquy of hate.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2012.

Miasma

Draped in death black barges drift

Beneath the leaden winter sky

While all around dank walls of fog

Besmirch the hulks and blind the eye.

No name or legend on the prow

That might the pallid corps reveal

And on the barren morbid deck

No steersman stands before the wheel.

What wills these barks to wend their way

Demands them to maintain this course?

There are no sails nor oars to row

Along the towpath moves no horse.

They navigate without a flaw

No waves or ripples fore or aft,

More silent than the agape grave

Move on these damned infernal craft.

Unseen by cottage, farm or mill

Past bends and tangled rafts of weed,

By rotting trunks of fallen oaks

That never once their course impede.

The dingy feted shrouds of mist

Like layers of corruption cling

And as this dismal curtain falls,

The sweetest voice begins to sing.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2012.

Desolate

We are spirits in a chrysalis

Ephemeral as a dream,

Reaching out in desperation

Touching shadows in a stream.

Ever seeking true communion

Barely stifling the scream,

For the dread of isolation

And the spaces in between.

Building arches over loneliness

From altars deep inside

To the paradise we squandered

In our arrogance and pride.

And our only consolation,

Every soul has wings to fly

Out of cages through the clouds

Above the sorrow and the sigh.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2012.

Contradictions

Vistas

Don’t Upset the Birds

Mrs Wintridge wore a beret

waddling along the street,

tatty coat with buttons missing

ragged slippers on her feet.

In her garden was a fountain

where the birds would come to play,

Mrs Wintridge didn’t like it

screamed at them to go away.

Then she fell into the water

all the birdies gathered round,

saw her splash and cough and splutter

chirped while Mrs Wintridge drowned.

Fathered friends are bathing daily

drinking water as they will,

in that fountain in the garden

where a berets floating still.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2011.

Contact me.

If you have comments or constructive suggestions or wish to contact me for any reason, please email me on.

alangilbert2@aol.com

I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you. 

Tools for poets.

Tools for poets.

Here are some links to useful tools for poets.

Rhyming dictionary.

http://www.rhymezone.com/

General resource site with many useful links. 

http://www.poetry.org/default.htm

Dictionary and thesaurus.

http://www.websters-online-dictionary.org/

http://thesaurus.babylon.com/hat

Syllable/word counter.

http://www.wordcalc.com/

Poetry form and structure.

http://www.poetry-online.org/poetry-terms.htm 

A free and very good writing application that has served me well.. 
http://evernote.com/

My Facebook poetry group page.

You would be very welcome to join us at, "All That Rhymes Poetry" on Facebook. Share your poetry, promote your work, book, or web site, comment on the poetry postings. All genres of poetry welcome.
Find us at:
https://www.facebook.com/alanspoetry

Would You?

Would you stand before God

With your sword unsheathed

And spit in the eye of the storm.

Would you fight to the death

For the things you believed

Forgetting your body was torn.

Would you fly to the stars

Riding Arian's spear,

Pushing the boundaries

Of natural fear.

Risking damnation

For dreams you hold dear.

Would you?

Would you ride into hell

On the Sleipnir steed

And call for the devil to dance.

Would you stand all alone

Gainst the wrath of the world

Certain they hadn't a chance.

Would you get up and shout

For how it should be,

That all of the world

Could be fed and be free.

Cursing our leaders

Damn hypocrisy.

Would you?