“Homicide Unit”

I have no idea what this is supposed to be, but–since I wrote it–I have decided to post it;) [An oddity in “English” terza rima–by Paul Burgess]

“He passed away before the crimes occurred.”
“To be deceased is not an alibi.”
“You know, your theory is beyond absurd.”

“You think a man above created life.
Why can’t it be destroyed by one below?
What else explains the prints, the bloody knife…”

“Enough! When has a corpse been known to kill?
Allow the dead to rest in peace.
To murder’s never been a corpse’s skill.”

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“Absent Presence” or “Present Absence”

Version 1:

Although I touch your hair

and see your vacant stare,

you are not truly there.

 

Although I hold you near,

my lips against your ear,

you are not truly here.

 

The form, which I devised, consists of stanzas of iambic trimeter containing rhyming tercets. I have considered rearranging the lines to put the poem in terza rima. In terza rima it would look like this:

Version 2:

Although I touch your hair,

my lips against your ear,

you are not truly there.

 

Although I hold you near,

and see your vacant stare,

you are not truly here.

I would welcome any feedback regarding which version works best.

 

Paul

“Cheer Up, You Gloomy Bastards!”

A poem in ottava rima by Paul Burgess

Expecting pleasure always, never strife,
You curse existence saying it’s insane
And claim Despair’s your mother, Gloom’s your wife.
Your home you’ve often called the “House of Pain.”
Unmet conditions you’ve imposed on life
Don’t justify the way that you complain.
Refrain from putting poison in your cup—
That’s how to cheer a gloomy bastard up.

 

“Anagram” (an epigram on the topic–by Paul Burgess; also posted here: https://paulwhitberg.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/poem-an-epigram-on-an-anagram-by-paul-burgess/

A “poem” might become a mixed up “mope,”

Composed by some absurdly gloomy dope.

2 Limericks on the Topic– by Paul Burgess

If to write’s to complain and complain…
And complain, as if life were all pain,
Perhaps I’m no good,
And maybe I should
…complain and complain, and complain.

Some poets will write as if gloom
Were pervading all life to the tomb.
Of one who would write
With a heart that is light,
They’d declare, “For his kind, there’s no room.”

“A Fan and a Critic: A Dialogue in Terza Rima” by Paul Burgess

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-seven/

“The boy’s destined for great renown.”
“His joking tone will not suffice.
He’s less a poet, more a clown.”

         “His poetry’s use of forms is nice…”
         “Those iambs, anapests, and rhymes?
           Those methods from the Age of Ice?

             His work is far behind the times.
             Who would not vomit, cringe, and jeer
             If shown his literary crimes?

“His poems’ meanings are always clear…”
“What fouler crime could one commit?
               To write’s to be a drunken seer.”

There end the words of Pride and Fear.