The Monsters are Real

Okay - today's Tuesday Poem on a Wednesday is "The Monsters are Real"
I'm hoping to post some motivational "poetry" soon - so look out for that. :)

The Monsters are Real

What do you do when the monsters are real
and they're not hiding under the bed?

What do you do when the monsters reveal
that they like to play with your head.

It's zeroes and ones
until it becomes
a dance with truth
and deceit.
Tell me, what will you do when faceless suits
dance to their puppeteer's drum?

So what do you do when the monsters are real
and they're not hiding under you bed?

And what do you do when with murderous glee
the monsters complain of civility?

"Oh oysters, pitiful wretches,
come and walk with me
the day is - oh, so hot
and my tears are wet, as wet could be."

Tell me, what will you do now the monsters are real
and they're not hiding under your bed?

Now the gaslight is on
And the bedroom's not safe
Can you see that the monsters are real?
Their words are fair, and their acts are foul,
with tongues are as divided
as the rage they can't keep in their heads.

Will you believe what they say?
Will you believe what we say?
Will you believe it today?
Will the propaganda mess with your head?

Come, will you become a faceless suit -
and dance to their puppeteer's drum?
 
What do you do when the monsters are real -
and the monsters come for your head? 

A.J. Ponder

 A.J. Ponder is the author of Quest - to find out more about Quest, follow this link to Quest on my author website.


 

Stolen Time

 In the forest late at night
As the moon was shining
I thought I saw a fair one

Out at midnight dining

A blanket and a basket

A wine of claret red

A bosom warm as dawn

On which to lay his head

I blinked and all t'was over

The night was sped away

And twenty years, they rushed by

The night I passed that way

The fair one he was restless

And jealous of the Day

And fair he held her close

And bid her come his way

She spoke her words so warm
And smiled like winter sun
And when she laughed it burned
Twenty years undone

Now in the forest late at night
When sister Moon is swollen
I beseech her there to free
The years that Day has stolen

But sweet Day, so young and fey  
I do protest in vain
Though my bones turn ashen grey
I love you just the same

A blanket and a basket
A wine of claret red
Your bosom's far too warm
For a mortal's bed

 A.J. Ponder 
 

I love the classic fairy tales of lost time, the deadly romance of it all (mostly the deadly bit) and so this is my homage to those tales and poems (they had such a wonderful way with rhyme and metre) of my misspent youth.  And talking about misspent youth - received "Tiny Trouble" in the mail - thanks to Pearson's Journal, "Comet" and it looks fab :)  Also posted off the paperwork for "Legendary" (co-written with Peter Friend), which will be printed in their "Explore" magazine soonish.

If you love poetry, try out the Tuesday Poem hub http://tuesdaypoem.blogspot.com/
or for more fairytale poetry click here to my Fairytale Poetry Hub

Cheers,
A.J.

A Grey Day in Summer

(or -- Sometimes, the hottest Summer's Day is Just as Grey as Any Other)

It is a grey day

My heart is stuffed with pillows

The breeze blows through my head as if it wasn't there

And through the unrelenting sunlight

Under the eaves

There are shadows

Darkness

Dread

Death

Gravestones

With the names of loved ones

It is a grey day

My world is stuffed with pillows

My stomach filled with bright and burning lead

Skin deep sunlight burns my skin

And all around

There lie shadows

Peace

Promises

Posies

Plots of grass

Marked by picket fences

It is a grey day

My soul is stuffed with pillows

There is hot sun, there is blue sky, but I have fallen

Past the sweet scent of roses

Where the lies lie

Beneath the bright words

Bold

Brave

Brash

That mark

The places we dare not cross

Alicia Ponder

 

 I rather hate doing this - but this poem should really be softly illustrated, each stanza has a little church, a churchyard and a picket fence.   (Also the font and the format make a big difference, and I'm not entirely sure I have them quite right here. )