peteyfrogboy: (rook)
I make three welds:
One.
Two.
Three.
I have no heart that beats
But that's my pulse:
One.
Two.
Three.
The center of my being,
The reason I exist,
And yet
It is not really what I am.

One hour each night
They stop my beating heart
To oil the gears,
To tighten all the screws.
I treasure
Every second
And I dream
Of leaving here
To see the world,
To see at all.

The people here
Complain sometimes
That work
Is not their life,
And wish they could
Go back to school
Or go to Spain
Or kiss that girl
They saw once
On the bus.
I want to tell them,
"Do those things!"
To make the choice,
To risk,
To leap,
To fly.
To have such dreams
And let them go
Would make me weep
If only
I had eyes,
For I would be content
To get to
Four.
peteyfrogboy: (writing)

My lady, you are like a rose,
A bloom of scarlet at your lips
And curves upon your rosebud hips.
As any worthy gardener knows
The rose is best that upward grows
Upon a trellis strong and true
So that it will not go askew.
And so, my rose, it’s plain to see
That I was clearly made to be
Entwined forever more with you.

My lord, your gardener astute
Would know which plants are worth their weight
And which are but to decorate;
The rose is pretty, bloom to root,
But in the end, it bears no fruit.
No climbing rose am I, you see,
But rather like an apple tree.
And your strong wood may serve me most
As, say, a bench, a fence, a post;
For my part, sir, I shall stand free.

This is a decima written in response to a poetry challenge. 


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

Have faith in me and ask not why
I take no map and just rely
On half baked notions, memories,
And intuition; it is these
That heretofore have got me by.

The trackless woodlands terrify
The timid traveler, but I
Think this way looks familiar; please
Have faith in me.

Your charts show roads, but not the sky;
Just take my hand and we will try
To find our way home on the breeze
And witness what the storm cloud sees;
I’ll show you why the few who fly
Have faith in me.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

Have faith in me and ask not why
I take no map and just rely
On half baked notions, memories,
And intuition; it is these
That heretofore have got me by.

The trackless woodlands terrify
The timid traveler, but I
Think this way looks familiar; please
Have faith in me.

Your charts show roads, but not the sky;
Just take my hand and we will try
To find our way home on the breeze
And witness what the storm cloud sees;
I’ll show you why the few who fly
Have faith in me.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

From Cupid’s bow there flies a dart,
And where it lands shall romance start:
Eternal lovers, strong and true,
Or passion’s pawns, thrust deep into
The storm tossed sea without a chart.

Yet paramours are seldom smart;
They drive the horse behind the cart
And later curse each shaft that flew
From Cupid’s bow.

Love is not science, but an art;
Not every hind will find her hart.
The arrows miss, or strike askew,
And when they fail it falls to you
To seek out other ways apart
From Cupid’s bow.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

From Cupid’s bow there flies a dart,
And where it lands shall romance start:
Eternal lovers, strong and true,
Or passion’s pawns, thrust deep into
The storm tossed sea without a chart.

Yet paramours are seldom smart;
They drive the horse behind the cart
And later curse each shaft that flew
From Cupid’s bow.

Love is not science, but an art;
Not every hind will find her hart.
The arrows miss, or strike askew,
And when they fail it falls to you
To seek out other ways apart
From Cupid’s bow.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I saw the path; the signs were clear,
And then, O Lord, I lost my way.
With victory sure, the prize was near.
I saw the path; the signs were clear.
A heartless man who rules with fear
Is ever sure to win the day.
I saw the path; the signs were clear,
And then, O Lord, I lost my way.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

I saw the path; the signs were clear,
And then, O Lord, I lost my way.
With victory sure, the prize was near.
I saw the path; the signs were clear.
A heartless man who rules with fear
Is ever sure to win the day.
I saw the path; the signs were clear,
And then, O Lord, I lost my way.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

The things we want are tempting bait
That lure us to participate
At tourney field or concert hall,
To run the race or scale the wall,
That we may thus accumulate.

Yet base desire may turn to hate
As we are crushed beneath the weight,
Hemmed in on every side by all
The things we want.

The wise among us contemplate
What we should choose to venerate:
Ignore the worldly goods that call
Like Atalanta’s golden ball;
Let charity and love dictate
The things we want.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

Between three seas triskelions shine bright
Upon the crown and banners overhead,
But in times past those flags were black and white;
Meridies once ruled those lands. It’s said
That borders are but lines drawn with a pen,
And for ambition some will seek to tread
Across frontiers laid out by ancient men.
Dire news came that Trimaris moved to war;
She sought to take our southern lands and then
Redraw the maps that had been made before.
The knights cried out and bade King Thomas ride
To meet the threat that could not be ignored.
The Sovereign rode, he would not be defied;
His Consort followed closely at his side.

Read more... )


Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)
Fealty with love, so swears my king
On monarch's sword and prince's ring.
I make my pledge: to give my all,
To go to war when I am called
And stand with him, unwavering.
   
What coin is this, this fleeting thing
Of which the bards and poets sing?
Is it enough to repay all
Fealty with love?
   
Yet love has power, enough to bring
The rich to aid the suffering,
Give life to art, make cities fall,
Turn cowards brave and meek men tall.
A worthy trade, then, honoring
Fealty with love.
peteyfrogboy: (rook)
I hold your hand and ask your name,
A simple spark to light the flame
That burns within and shines without
Till soon enough I have no doubt:
My life will never be the same.

I bare my soul - I have no shame -
I bet it all to play the game.
And while we dance and laugh and shout
I hold your hand.

As each year passed, the next one came;
It's nature's way, no one to blame.
The flowered field gives way to drought,
So day by day the sands run out.
When Time arrives to stake his claim
I hold your hand.
peteyfrogboy: (rook)
Remember me when I am gone,
And shades before my eyes are drawn.
Tell people that you knew me when;
That I taught you what you taught them,
So by my works I can live on.

Your face, lit by the rays of dawn,
Is in my heart, though you've moved on.
You stir, and wake, and smile, and then
Remember me.

A soldier born, I'm fortune's pawn,
By fickle fate forever drawn
To fight and fall and rise again
So my name might be known to men
And every knave or paragon
Remember me!
peteyfrogboy: (Default)
I miss the days 
when I could send you
letters in the mail,
or call
or text
or shout across the street.
The eyes
and ears
are everywhere,
and fingers pry apart the words
to see what lies between,
what lies beneath,
to see inside
and know what we are thinking.
So when I give this to you,
this little piece of card,
held between my color-spotted fingers,
streaked with paint
still wet
and shining
in all its brilliant hues,
I will not know -
I cannot know -
what it will mean to you
and you won't know
quite what it means to me.
But neither can the spying eyes
and greedy ears
and poking fingers
know the wordless feelings
that pass
between us.
And that,
my dear,
is how we can communicate
from heart
to heart
employing the cryptography
of art.
peteyfrogboy: (Default)
I borrowed twenty bucks from you;
Last week I bought you gas.
But I'm not keeping tallies of
Transactions from the past.

It's not that I want you to be
In debt for what I gave,
Or that I think your own largesse
Makes me your bonded slave.

The flow of wealth from hand to hand
Is not a zero sum;
The river irrigates the fields
Fidelity grows from.

I bare my throat before your jaws
As you bare yours to me,
And every time we do not strike
The trust is plain to see.

It is not greed or pity
That moves me to take or lend,
It's just my way of saying
I will always be your friend.
peteyfrogboy: (Default)

One sheet of Pergamenata: $1.50
11" x 14" picture frame: $5.00
Making Mom cry at Christmas: priceless
peteyfrogboy: (Default)
Quantum theory tells us
That both yes and no exist:
You can't know what you're holding
Till you open up your fist.

These realms of possibility
Birth multitudes of worlds
With unicorns or laser guns
As quantum states unfurl.

But hope grips only half as hard
As terror's clutching claws;
Uncertainty hangs like a fog
And makes the timid pause.

It's statistically unlikely
That lightning will strike you,
But knowing that you might be next
Keeps rubber on your shoes.

That stupid cat inside his box
Has got it in our heads
That we're all only mostly live
And tiny fractions dead.

At any moment luck might turn
And unsure states collapse
With us inside like running mice
In deadly waveform traps.

It's arrogant to think that you
Are safe from any harm
And foolish to ignore the ways
That you might buy the farm.

But fools are always happy
And ignorant of strife,
So we might take a lesson there
To live a brighter life.
peteyfrogboy: (Default)
I am a rectangle;
I am a square,
From my flat pointy feet
To my Frankenstein hair.

Easy to render
And simple to craft;
I measure the same
From my fore to my aft.

No unfortunate roundness
Or pokey-out bits;
When I go clothes shopping,
Everything fits!

You're welcome to join me
In rectangular life:
A cinder block husband
Needs a candy bar wife.

We'd fit right together
With no in-between space,
I'd snuggle right up
To your mirror-smooth face.

I suppose I might miss
Your five fingers in mine,
Or the lips that I kiss
And your stellar behind.

But little asymmetries,
That's where it starts:
My unbalanced brain,
Your off-center heart.

Do you know the time Leia
And Han didn't fight?
When he kept himself safely
Inside carbonite.

Can I risk the unsteadiness
Roundness implies?
Are the Weebly wobbles
Worth the look in your eyes?

I'll give up my corners,
The straight edges too;
And find soft-sided ways
To fit right next to you.
peteyfrogboy: (writing)
I wrote this poem to have on hand for any bardic eventualities this weekend at Castle Wars. The bardic competition turned out to have a theme better suited to another poem, so I'll just go ahead and post it here instead.

Compostela )
peteyfrogboy: (Default)
I had a great time at Silver Hammer this weekend. Hanging out with friends, no responsibilities, and marvelous weather (during the day, at least). I wore the new shirt with the old red suit during the morning, and it seemed to work fine, though the cuffs didn't want to fold back neatly all the way around. I may be able to work on that a little. I also wrote a poem for the Middle Eastern themed bardic competition:

A Rubaiyat )

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