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Beware of one with a honeyed tongue and a sword in the belly.
Tongues
the tongue
of my body
is in the nerves
the tongue
of my soul
in the heart
the tongue of
my mind
in the head
the tongue
of truth and deceits
in the mouth
the tongue of
the World (Creation)
in the words
of God
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Alankar(Decor) -56
Why (Novelinee)
How could you do that-
With bonding image of untruth
Blinding me just flat
Make-belief is your way smooth
I suppose I've been a fool
O'er the years-with blind trust
More decades've passed so cool
'A honey tongue' I thought to entrust
But 'a heart of gall' to distrust
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Candle, pen, fools-cap and brandy
A candle… a pen
A glass of honeyed brandy
Close at hand
The taper…for which to see
The pen with which to write
And of the honeyed brandy?
Well that's just for me
To write through the nite, you see
And to make me feel just dandy
poem by David Whalen
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I Do Not Hunger For Your Unhappiness
My hands can gently hold.
Also ball into fists.
I refuse to lift my hands to hit.
I refuse that kind of anguish to sit,
Within me.
My tongue could be peppered,
Or honeyed sweet.
I could deliver bitterness,
Or clinch my teeth!
I could bite my lips,
And resist to throw a fit!
And I do...
With my legs.
Taking my heart away,
From all of it!
I will not entertain...
Your appetite for ignorance.
But I can.
I choose not to!
And I suggest...
You let this rest.
Since I've confessed,
I do not hunger...
For your unhappiness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mistaken
I misunderstood
I stood stark.
Not withstanding
This misunderstanding,
A mistake.
Mistaken identity,
Unidentified,
You lied.
Lay the facts distorted.
Like in the hall of mirrors,
Twisted, mistaken,
My words mistook.
With one frozen look
You froze my heart.
My tongue frosted.
My ears burned by honeyed lies.
Eyes deceived by outer form.
Formed the wrong image
For you were deformed, twisted.
And I misunderstanding,
Was devoured.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Sonnet: Man Is Dissatisfied
The man ashore longs for the mighty sea;
Its wealth of fishes, shells and pearls, may be!
The man on board, longs for the beach sandy;
And yearns for land when sea has turned stormy.
When suff'rings come, in sequence, ruthlessly,
The heart wants joy, relief and be set free;
When joys bore you almost unceasingly;
Some woes prove welcome, magic remedy.
Each state of life affects the mind and heart;
Good blend of joys and woes is best for all;
Yet, sorrows goad the genius in each art;
Sweetness seems sweeter after bitter gall.
Happy's the man who is much satisfied;
Sad is the one who's joyfully tongue-tied.
poem by John Celes
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Without Feeling Guilt Or Appalled At All
It's just so sad...
To think that people don't get a bite to eat.
And it's just so sad...
These people aren't the only ones seen on the streets.
Some still live in homes,
While others condone roaming all alone.
Oh it's just too sad...
To know the ones who lead aren't leaders.
Although give they do nice and sweet speeches,
As if what will be done is prioritized...
And homelessness and hunger will soon meet defeat!
It's just so sad...
To witness people struggle to their feet.
And walk for miles to try to keep up...
Their heads as they seek dwindling opportunities.
As others pass them talking,
To leave them without greeting...
Or helping out to meet their needs.
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled at all!
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled at all!
It's just so sad...
To think that people don't get a bite to eat.
And it's just so sad...
These people aren't the only ones seen on the streets.
Some still live in homes,
While others condone roaming all alone.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Words Are Cheap
Words are cheap.
Can cheapen and demean.
Meaningless they flow
Flow as cheap wine
And as sour,
They have bitter taste,
Bitter as gall,
And as galling.
Spat out rat a tat tat
They fall from rancid mouths,
dropp on to barren soil.
Ah words they can slide slowly with care,
Red and fleshy from honeyed lips.
The serpent tongued temptress
Who drips poison in the ear.
Words shouted from the chorus
The strident clamour of the crowed.
The swelling cheer that vibrates the bone.
The chatter of those who fear silence
Who fill the passing hour with endless words.
Ah yes words are cheap
But at what price are they bought?
poem by Paul Brookes
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New Year's Eve
Another full-orbed year hath waned to-day,
And set in the irrevocable past,
And headlong whirled long Time's winged blast
My fluttering rose of youth is borne away:
Ah rose once crimson with the blood of May,
A honeyed haunt where bees would break their fast,
I watch thy scattering petals flee aghast,
And all the flickering rose-lights turning grey.
Poor fool of life! plagued ever with thy vain
Regrets and futile longings! were the years
Not cups o'erbrimming still with gall and tears?
Let go thy puny personal joy and pain!
If youth with all its brief hope disappears,
To deathless hope we must be born again.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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As Created
There's a space for good to bloom in
Every heart of man or woman,--
And however wild or human,
Or however brimmed with gall,
Never heart may beat without it;
And the darkest heart to doubt it
Has something good about it
After all.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Fool Me Not
All those honeyed words I hear
make me cringe as you
whisper them in my ear.
For the words I believe
are not sincere,
these honeyed words that I hear.
They're too sweet to depend upon.
I hear them. I react
and then you're gone.
'Woman', I say to myself
'Take heed.
Those words really
are not what you need.'
Fool me not. Fool me not.
Take your words and leave.
Fool me not. Fool me not.
As the honey drips, I grieve.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Questions (Senryu Pentad Format)
Won't you come with me
To Utopic Dimensions
Honeyed Dreams sublime.
Do you thirst like me..?
for a taste of Rhapsody..?
Take me in....imbibe.
You are warm and sweet
but are you mine forever..?
Speak your tongue with mine!
Answer my question
'Fore I close my eye's again;
Dreams, like Time...pass away.
Hour-glass empty
A very hard decision
Nirvana, and wine!
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Her Reply
IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,--
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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The Nymph’s Reply To The Shepherd
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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