[Lubesh]

Crackling shins,
Elicit bones,
Surface in the night,
When death atones,
For sombre actions,
Deeds done to him.
He ravages the air,
Foul, putrid, grim.
A waft of breeze,
His nostrils savour,
Coming from the trees,
Long denied flavour.
Amidst the headstones,
He plots and schemes,
To repay his murderers,
And make them scream.
He paces for hours upon
Dampened hours,
He crushes underfoot
Already dead flowers.
As the rounded, silver
Of the moon howls down,
He shivers dustily,
With crumpled frown.
The warming soil,
Laid out below,
Beckons softly
To spirit a glow,
His actions, on reflection,
Were overstated, silly.
Who wants revenge ...
On a night so chilly?

[Storiesmaniac]

haahahahaha i read it the first time, and thought, wait whats so fun about that, because im an idiot, but that was great! Nice poem!

[Lubesh]

Thanks stories..bit raw but willget back to it.

[Lubesh]

Which i did.....

[SeaN]

lol this is good Lu! I don't know if I'm just braindead or tired because I did have to read it a few times to understand... no fault of yours though. The flow and rhythm is flawless.

Talk about a slacker! He's a 'fair-weather phantom'... a 'girly-ghost'... a 'summertime spook'! (I'll be here all week- tip your bartenders)

Nice work Lu. Very humorous in that understated Lubesh kind of way

[Lubesh]

Talk about a slacker! He's a 'fair-weather phantom'... a 'girly-ghost'... a 'summertime spook'! (I'll be here all week- tip your bartenders

Ha ha. Not girly...just cold.......ur cruel! lol

[Corneac]

Haha. I noticed this not so long ago and made a mental note "comment", but by then it was already late and although it's late now I've had a dose of caffeine, so I'm in a prime mood to discern and delve into the abyss of wonder that is Lubesh's poetry! Oh yes, I just sound like salesman, don't I? Nah, but I haven't been as commenting as I should, so when I do comment, trying to make them worthwhile. So here goes, bear with me, it's late:

Okie, rhythm. Now I was slightly surprised, perhaps it was the way I was reading it or the jagged broken nature of your lines, but the rhythm wasn't perfect. Not that that's a criticism. But I guess I'm used to flowing through your poems with the ease of a song, with such flawless meter and rhyme, it usually makes me gasp in utter wonder and astonishment (well not literally, but one fo those in-the-head-gasps), this one came out as a sort of "Oh-my-god-that's-so-awesoemley-perfectly-rhyming-and-rhythming-I-think-I'm-going-to-burn-all-my-poems-and-build-a-homage-to-anita-on-the-ash-of-my-attempts-of-wrting, but yes only a half a one. Bad jokes, and unsettling long-winded, unnecessary explanation aside, I didn’t' feel it as much as I usually did. It semd to lack something, and I'm putting it down to the unique structure, which I'm guessing complemented the whole idea of the poem. It was choppy, to say the least, but that I guess suits your poetic style in this piece?

Now...first of I reads this and I thought...huh? For the same reason as Tim no doubt, because I'm an idiot. lol.

His actions, on reflection,
Were overstated, silly.
Who wants revenge …
On a night so chilly?

And I thought what is Lu doing putting words like "silly" in her poetry that for people to reprimand me with not for you to pepper throughout your verse, and the cheap line at the end. And then, silly me, I noticed it was "humour", so saw that oh she's trying to be funny. lol. And it was rather humorous, when I realised you weren't just using the word silly to make us all stop and say...what? But overall, very well done. I had re-read it a few times to gather he was dead, reminded me off this weather. So bloody cold at the moment makes me feel like I'm dead.

But y'know, this still had everything that I love about your poetry in it, those little delights that I sometimes stumble across...

Amidst the headstones,
He plots and schemes,

Plots and headstones, I know probably no connection, but those type of thing give ma wry smile, it just makes me stop and look deeper. I love poetry that can do that.

Dampened hours,

Wow...it's a description like hat makes me stop in my tracks. "Dampened hours" as if even time retains the moist characteristics of chilly weather. That even a in increment can personify the wet, clammy hand of fog or the cool damp depth of rain. Man, it's so intriguing and opened a whole unique foray into meaning.

But yes...nice poem Anita

[Lubesh]

lol.....u reallyshould get out more.....but as ever much appreciated. You would have went ape s***at the first version..none of that which you have so eloquently written would have applied. It was allover the palce, but it was just for fun....ur like stories...yeah u r both ausies now there is a connection ha ha....thanks again my second fav aussie..the first being my best mate!

[Corneac]

Get out more? Thanks for that. 2nd favourite oh thanks. Nut what can I expect from a pom aye? lol

[Lubesh]

French...pom lol

[Corneac]

French pom then...que?

[RENA HANDS]

Elicit bones

are u sure it is elicit and not ilicit, a joke you are right as always it is elicit.