FOR THIS TURN

OnCe, it was a trait ever feature
In this entire earthly nature
As it eerier the ultimate disthene
Inside man’s own self exaration
Wings in jiffy each and every one’s could beetle off
When there were no crime and choice
Some barely singe-in a weenie voice
At times long had em but grown up

Even as medley and maffled
With false revelation of osculum
Yet in their noddy, beyond every ornery
They only knew mien of their wheugh
In a squeal birling mind and
Few think him rude for he is as strange as the black sturgeon
Underneath the blue wave cache
Of which its presence could utters chants and retorts
When the surface of the lakes seiche
From east to west until it finds a serene in within

Perhaps the maenad always cut-in tit
Then we in stalkoes flounce around
An open portico along the front lento
Like goose in cluck
We felt across the Clough
And settle right behind the mountain
They came with plentifulness, the vassaless.
Some just fill in grid so every row could rove
She nip me in the bud as I was dirty
And‘d like to cast me out of my kith and kin
If you please make me clean

Never was my naif to resent her
When we first met in the thread needle city
As I got no time for lurch, of course
But the element and it affection
Has it up to lysis before my glasses
That we might need some oneiro-critic
Now no one worth owned weight on thy faith
And i proclaimed the cuckold
just waiting to whet and coll for this turn.

— kelsey, May 15, 2010

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: NGA

Critiques

kelsey

15 years 12 months ago

a piece in my mind

yes I also felt same way but wouldn't say is time wasted,that is how it sum up in my mind and in order to make it sound euphoniously,i need to go about gathering experience and even had to took it upon my self. I appreciate the comment Sir,thanks wish you draw others attention and so we could envisage their sayyy.

Nordic cloud

15 years 11 months ago

My savvy is hard tried to fathom this!

Ann of Norway I too know only some of the words you have stamped out here for us to read, as a sound poem, somewhat like the beginnings of such that Gerard Manley Hopkins used as an Avant Gard type of poetry, it has its onomatopoeic rhythms and strange meanings, but it is a new genre of your own, you force me to use these words here, ones that you may not understand, and yet in the end, I liked reading this group of words, with little story and find myself wondering why? Perhaps because I love the sound of words first and foremost when reading poetry! I couldn't even begin to help you with this I am afraid, I am honest in my criticisms, I hope always, even if it isn't a blaze of praise!!! Love to you dear Kelechi from your ma, Ann.