L'Eau

7) c) With a spear of doubt you poisoned me!
Bitter rut's of fear do now clout my sight
With blindness most akin to pools blight! Be
clean; those who receive water that flows not,
Accumulate a great wealth of slime: hot,
Like a quagmire that stagnates the mind,
Strikes souls, tires the imagination,
As a pool that reeks from unwholesome rinds.
Such fools that seek only to have fun times
Do become all crusted over with deep
Indifference, like tea that over steeps.
Yet wholesome water's that radiate life,
Give back what they took, and they have no strife.

                                                                           L'Eau, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Gunman

6) c) You place my hand on top of yours and still
I race; sigh, not so for my coming death,
For I bought my life with gunman's hands. Fill
Now your smile, vice bids me pay my health
For chores I did carry out three years gone,
And bore me not with worry and sorrow!
What I sow has now come back, tomorrow
Shall I depart from you, for I've not will
To live; ramparts of desert trails now mill
About in the corners of my mind, and
I shall blaze them err the sun doth set down.
Do not face then my departure so bland,
But rejoice and spur me on! I am bound
By my choice to die, to seek out new towns.

                                                                    Gunman, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Growing Pains

5) c) As I watch you unsheathe your sword, as bare
Fangs check enemies, stop them in their tracks,
It seems reckless to temper fair attacks;
For dreams of nobility did tear at
My seemingly feeble body of three.
Yet dreams are just what they are, meant to be
Rut's, seams in our mind! they tar us, consume
Us by the tinfoil armor they are. Must
Such thoughts, royal in nature, presuming
Of foes, lead me to such mistakes as this?
But, rowing down creeks at the age of three
I kept in mind they would soon become streams;
So set in my stance I remember, lest
I stop a boy from becoming his best.

                                             Growing Pains, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Fad of Time

4) c) Walk through the woods with me to find some peace
Of mind, true love's hooded mantle that leases
Perches for two doves should provide ample
Growth of leaves, cover for our heads, and dull
Rug's for weary feet. Dismantle such woes
Aloof within your soul, surrender those
Soothsayer's words which sunder you from me;
So loose control freely and then be free.
Yet still you roll your eyes when seeing me,
Betting that old prophesies may soon be
Should you give in to your love for me. For
Could true living sift through gloves parted wide,
 I'd have spirited, lifted you above
The fad of this time that keeps us apart.

                                                                       Fad of Time, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Heart to Heart

3) c) When pretty problems possess us to act
Mentally retarded, tempers dress us
In tentatively dreadful distress, must
They who share not in the affliction bust
Our chops, pair off the asps head? Whining
For loppers to take on the hedge
You sop, and do make a sop out of me!
For moping about your problems creates
Sores in our friendship, deepens the chasm
That we must bridge by pities unfathomed!
When problems you have in your great distress,
Then trust, send pleas for help; but cause no mess
In yours words that do cry whelp, "woe is me!"
Rather speak heart to heart, and I will see.

                                                Heart to Heart, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Word Dust

2) c) Learn to be free with your words, but with care;
Burning passions of anger and strife bring
Worms of evil into mangers of life.
Then let not your tongue speak in anger, sweet
Fen better left to the darkness beneath
These cobbled streets. Witness, bequeath your words
To lease the power set within; for words
Of fleeced bowers where you alone profit
Do profit you less. Fair truth spoken with
True poetic flair did youth display. Still,
The older they got the more dismay crept
Into their hearts; and there, kept at bay
By suspicions and distrust they will say
Nothing. Allowing word dust to collect.

                                                             Word Dust, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

Time Immemorial

1) c) Though time immemorial we shall meet
When rhymes do end, toil's sweet defeat made
Relevant by the waning clock, while still
Servant's fetch and bring mock file's of wills
Unused, tethered hands of death held back by
Ensuing dread and bands of wealth, blackest
Abuse headed off by memories sweet,
Still you and I in green pastures meet. Yet
Time begins to slow our fast pace, begets
Our face with show of lines and wrinkles; met
By paces we know grow with hours past
We make seamless joys, from the towers last
Stand. We beam upon the light of daybreak.
But in wee hours of dusk dwells mistake.

                                                             Time Immemorial, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012