Verse fest i poet seri.., p.1

Verse Fest - I, Poet Series, Vol 4, page 1


Verse Fest - I, Poet Series, Vol 4

1 2 3

Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font   Night Mode Off   Night Mode

Verse Fest - I, Poet Series, Vol 4
Verse Fest

  I, Poet Series, Volume Four

  By Anthony North

  Copyright Anthony North 2013

  Cover image copyright, Yvonne North 2013

  Other books by Anthony North



  I, Adventurer:


  Inmate Earth:

  Bard Stuff:

  Mind Burps:


  I, Paranormal:

  I, Essayist:

  I, Society:

  I, Unexplained:

  I, Observer:









  About the Author

  Connect With Anthony


  I'm a writer first, poet last; I've written some stinkers in the past; I don't compose like others do; I write for me as well as you; So here's volume four, alas.


  Haunted House ... Atlantis ... She Lies There ... Here Before, Here Again ... Ode to Aliens


  The house is empty, solitary, creepy,

  To enter can affect you deeply;

  As cobwebs brush your face and hair,

  You’ll quickly learn to be aware;

  If you had driven down the highway outside,

  And through the corner of your eye you spied,

  You should have ignored it, or at least have tried

  But in you come, you don’t believe in ghosts,

  At least that’s what you always boast;

  Yet my creepy finger rubs down your spine,

  As with your mind my presence will entwine;

  Until you’re as timid as a mouse,

  No longer denying ghosts you espouse,

  Especially as this is YOUR house


  A foreign land we’re told it was,

  Populated by men and gods,

  Working morally for the greater good,

  Ethical acts putting off the flood;

  Great sages, workers, seamen, too,

  They brought their splendour to all they knew,

  Empires created in their wake,

  Done not for them, but all our sakes;

  Yet they’re wrong to call it a foreign land,

  It seems to me a similar strand,

  Of any society above its station,

  Reaping their ‘truth’ upon any nation;

  But remember the fate of this ‘moral’ good,

  Passing their message, written in blood,

  Sunk below depths, without a trace,

  Good so often becomes disgrace


  She lies there, waiting,

  In my heart;

  She lies there, expectantly,

  For me to remember;

  She was here once, fully,

  In my life,

  Giving joy, giving love, giving


  But she lies there, waiting,

  As she laid there once,

  For another;

  A silly mistake, a stupid impulse,

  For another;

  She lies there, waiting,

  As I remember my jealous rage;

  She lies there, the earth upon her,

  And I stand here, waiting,

  As she opens her eyes


  I remember Atlantis, land of the gods,

  A peaceful place, ’til they let loose the dogs;

  A warrior I was, I fought so well,

  Until I died, in a living hell

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  Next, a woman in Roman times,

  A comfortable life, listening to chimes;

  Until Vesuvius, it did erupt,

  Another life ended, so abrupt

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  A yeoman farmer, in Medieval days,

  Remembrance can be a bit of a haze;

  But come the battle, I took bow and arrow,

  I died, and was buried close to a barrow

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  Many more lives, I was born and died,

  From battles to crimes, I was never denied;

  The ultimate cycle of violent death,

  Neverending incarnations, just catching my breath

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  All my lives, they’ve been cut short,

  Maybe I’m just the violent sort;

  We live by karma, a moral law,

  That we live the next, based on before

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  Is there a lesson, to learn from this?

  Live your life, so you do not miss,

  The fulfilment of living, in harmony,

  Yet, there! Another enemy I see!

  Reincarnation, it marches on,

  You’re made of many, not of one

  And now, again,

  I’m gone


  Blubbery aliens, two by two,

  They’ve got their big bug eyes on you;

  Their silvery saucer is coming near,

  Shining a light that will make you peer;

  Through your window, as they glide,

  Through the air to be by your side;

  Paralysed with fear, and absolute dread,

  A beam of light takes you from your bed;

  In their starship, you lie awake,

  As experiments on you, they do make;

  They poke and prod you, having fun,

  You’ll fear they’ll use their ray gun;

  Yet soon it’s over, they’ve had their thrill,

  They didn’t even use an electric drill;

  You want them finished, you want to cry,

  Zoom off back to Alpha Centurai;


  Be they from space, or in your head,

  Don’t worry!

  You’ll always end up back in bed


  Pilgrimage ... Year ... The Skin Thing ... Circles ... Eschatology ... Horror Scope ... Ask ... March ... The Club ... One Way ... Wisdom ... The Importance of Books ... The Angel ... To the Light ... Giraffolution


  They never end,

  We constantly send,

  The religious on their journeys long,

  Happy of heart, singing their song,

  On the route of the pilgrimage,

  To meet the symbol of their age,

  Purest sign of their God so true,

  Or valiant saint to imbue,

  Their inner soul,

  A true life’s goal

  From earliest times they marched this way,

  Wars and Crusades, an Infidel to slay,

  Knights Templar formed to guard the path,

  From all who would show opposite wrath,

  And holy relics became the game,

  Guaranteeing a place’s fame,

  For Chaucer and co to display,

  Comedy all along the way

  But always it was a spiritual form,

  Journeying long, against the norm,

  Yet life advances as cultures change,

  Or maybe devolves as we become deranged,

  As the object of veneration becomes something new,

  A novel way with which to imbue,

  No longer a holy entity,

  Are we mad!!!? Venerating celebrity?


  It’s turned again, another year,

  Life racing on, without fear,

  The planet has rounded the sun once more,

  Allowing time for fun or chore;

  Hundreds of times the world has spun,

  Seasons passing, never glum,

  All imprinted with our social ways,

  Tradition, festival on display;

  Year in or year out,

  The year is our media redoubt,

  Imposing order on what we do,

  From Easter to Christmas we are imbued,

  With ideas of who we really are,

  Not allowing us to stray too far,

  From how we’re told we should be,

  Living a cultural destiny;

  So the year is vital to time and stuff,

  Even though there never seems enough,

  But also it’s how we’re told what to do,

  The life of Christ reflected in you


  What you are is what we see,

  Deciding our very destiny,

  Whether you’re Bob, or Jane, or Morgan,

  Your skin is your public relations organ;

  Cover it up, paint the face,

  Whether you’re good or a total disgrace,

  Your outside veil decides life’s toll,

  It’s a reflection of your soul;

  But more than this, it echoes your thoughts,

  Your inner mind, public retorts,

  Allowing people to get under your skin,

  Or make your skin crawl, when facing sin;

  Thin skinned, thick skinned, your attitude bare,

  Hairs stand on end when horrors you’re aware,

  And when you’re flooded with emotion raw,

  Electricity prickles, you’re never a bore;

  Skin is often how we interact,

  When embarrassed, blushing’s a fact,

  So beware of how your skin let’s you down,

  Crease it in a smile, not stretch in frown


  Circles, ultimate perfection,

  Providing comfort, protection,

  Keeping chaos out of the way,

  Perfect balance on display;

  Circles describe everything,

  The universe, its concentric rings,

  Gravity forming celestial orbs,

  Vessels of life, in the darkness daubed;

  Not only above, but also within,

  The mind, its thoughts – goodness, sin,

  Descending deeper, psychological haze,

  The mandala, its rings – descent to a maze;

  And so to life, the ultimate glow,

  Advancing, changing, thriving so,

  Yet always returning to where it began,

  Going round forever, a Divine plan;

  Circles exist in everything,

  Life, the Cosmos, mind, we sing,

  Onwards, marching in harmony,

  And then back to the beginning our destiny


  I’m telling you now, it has been said,

  The time will come when we’re all dead,

  It won’t be nice, it’ll hurt a bit,

  It doesn’t matter if you’ve true grit;

  Written often, such tales of woe,

  Of End Times, when the gods say no,

  Man is inspired to miraculous things,

  Haunted by death, how we reach the sting;

  Essential to how we live our life,

  Our myths of death must be rife,

  Telling what comes after our last breath,

  ‘Cos we’re a damned long time in death


  Look in the scan, see what will be,

  Electronic astrology;

  Any path you follow is always sad,

  Everything going so very bad,

  No matter how the programs align,

  Nothing, ever, turns out fine,

  Conflict and crime wherever you go,

  The ‘me’ society delivers a blow,

  To any hope of sorting it out,

  Whether you’re atheist or rather devout …

  Look to the past, why is it so?

  Way, way back, we have to go,

  To where it arises – Ego


  ‘Ask’ is such a little word, almost as small as ‘I’,

  The first leads to the second, forcing us to try;

  Without the question compelling us to end up as we are,

  We’d still be on our haunches, our minds not looking afar;

  To ask is to be inquisitive, always needing to know,

  Sometimes this knowledge is spectacular, at others, just a blow;

  But regardless of where it takes us, or what it makes us do,

  It’s surely why we’re human, and not in a primeval stew


  A month and an action

  A month ago we bought some potatoes, they were rather cheap,

  Now they cost a fortune, inflation, it does creep

  Upon us as the economy turns, plummets to the depths,

  And we all worry for the future, fearing all those debts

  I sometimes think I’m selfish to rant about such things,

  When so many in the past have shed their blood; freedom’s song they sing;

  But the credit crunch is quite important, it speaks of our society’s dearth,

  As Big Biz conned us out of our money, their power turning us into the serf

  Since man thought of civilisation, it has infected just a few,

  The idea of ruling everything, including me and you;

  Today’s Big Biz is no different, they just use more subtlety,

  So better to say it now, before we’re all buried under a tree

  Read the words of the martyrs who fought dictators long,

  Written in blood of the dead of a supposedly obedient throng,

  Do this month what we should have done before their power was big,

  ‘Cos as Orwell made very clear, there’s no difference between them and a pig


  We’ve seen it happen all over the world,

  People together, no violence hurled,

  Proud of their nation, one and all,

  Competing with each other, proud and tall;

  The greatest club there ever can be,

  A feeling of one amid diversity,

  This is the Olympics, a peaceful way,

  A global community that doesn’t betray,

  Oneness of culture, patriotism true,

  Yet proud of the humanity between me and you

  If only our leaders understood this fact,

  That people are different in a peaceful pact,

  Not scheming to always outfox the rest,

  Continually being a global pest;

  Wars and conflict are always the result,

  Of the actions of a few, a silly insult,

  Yet they round up the people to fight it out,

  Their minds knowing its wrong, so much doubt;

  Our leaders don’t belong in this global team,

  Tell them no! We want peace!

  Let our planet gleam!


  One Way!! One way? You must be mad,

  I can think of nothing so sad,

  Only one way to do a thing,

  Just one song for all to sing,

  Just one picture to behold,

  Just one way to be so bold,

  Just on
e story to relate,

  That’s a life I’d really hate;

  One way is a one way street,

  Straight to a mirror image to greet,

  For it holds a message very plain,

  There’s nothing more boring than being the same


  Wisdom is a crafty thing, it cons you that it’s there,

  When really those who think they’re wise, you should always beware,

  Wisdom isn’t facts or knowledge, like many people think,

  It’s placing them in a system of thought every time you blink;

  Wisdom isn’t knowing this and that, or winning in a quiz,

  It’s knowing what you don’t, not getting in a tiz,

  The wisest in the land take knowledge as a plea,

  To admit it when they don’t know – look it up in a dictionary;

  But wisdom has another life, the route where it comes along,

  And it isn’t something learnt in books, or art, or song;

  It’s understanding life is full of experience, taboo and rule,

  And the wisest person you know broke them all!

  ‘Cos he began as a damn fool!


  Sit me down, give me a book,

  Let it take me to an intellectual nook,

  Set the plot, characters aplenty,

  Dialogue, end, never sedentary;

  A mind to exercise, that’s the key,

  The thoughts that pass from author to me,

  At once entertaining, but much, much, more,

  Reading a book is education galore!

  Nothing delights me more than this,

  Reading offers such unimaginable bliss;

  Shame that they’re becoming increasingly rare,

  Without them, minds just lose their flair


  Angel, out there, can’t you see?

  It’s always here for you and me;

  Naked in its need to feel,

  Personal glory has no appeal

  Angel, tell me, what do you do?

  Are you here to help us become new?

  Are you our guardian for all time?

  Come from somewhere totally Divine?

  Human, out there, can’t you understand?

  I’m proof that life is not so bland;

  I’m wonder, miracle, a creator’s tool,

  To help you, guide you,

  Stop you being a fool


  The light I crave, I need it so,

  Within it, we can really glow,

1 2 3
Turn Navi Off
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up