ladroars poems and art

By lionladroar - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Friday, January 12, 2007

Lizards and Eskimos

Naked Eskimo’s Ginger or Carol she claimed ‘’ I don’t mind.’ Red to the bands drummer Baal Blabbering Beryl her temper could fly into the air like a lifeboat distress-flare declared the ten Hells Angels, stewards and roadies of the Satan's Biting Face Clan Beryl’s snare-drum begun Carol’s right arm circled three times before crashing into her black lead-guitar screaming high school crowed surged, chanting the ‘’ Naked Eskimo’s ‘’ Carol sang songs of her mother hammering a three inch nail into... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 12:45 PM | add or view comments (20) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Soure

Her Fathers Sour Ball Isabella tore strands from her long black hair running naked through the cold empty town stare Mothers screamed waking new born babies lullabies unpleasant dreams life is not always as it seems Catching pale-thighs on rusting barbwire jumping into his hiding place though not his grave Isabella ripped tuffs of lush green grass from the unkempt red veined marbled headstone four years of gossip aimed misery High pitched thinking drowned out by brass bells clanging reading... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 6:35 AM | add or view comments (22) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

She's Not Set But Free

She's walking on petals sniffing at rosebuds leaving the soapsuds just for a change She’s dreaming at sunrise sleeping every other night partying till daylight just for a change She’s talking with blind men taking them home again just for the memory just for a change I’m casting aside jealousy pride nether occurs to me why should I change? It’s just for a change Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 5:42 PM | add or view comments (26) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Monday, January 8, 2007

The wrong sort of cranes

Ohwell or Orwell Colossus are the creaking swings containers full with many different kinds of things, the far east the near west designer clothing the machines to wash it brand new once more are stacked on the dock at Felixstowe Ion monsters tilt gigantic heads squealing giant birds feathering their nests creeping nearer up this beautiful river named Orwell night and day they rave away disturbing wildlife on their own marsh grounds ‘’ just one kilometre more’’ was the promise just two ago... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 5:41 PM | add or view comments (20) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, January 7, 2007

Petticoats soapbox and Flowers

Petticoat Lane Market Famous fashions full of modern flair the wine sprinkled blue sari and Tina’s brown eyes if only I could remember her flowing shape making hand signs ‘’ about that size.’ Turning into Columbia road stalls of flowers colourfully greet me two bunches for the price of one ‘’ what’s that! Make it four son’’ Pointing fingers shouting at the man on his soapbox holding his bible ‘’ you speak from your throat and not your heart’’ hollers some old bloke, in tattered grey raincoat I... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 12:34 PM | add or view comments (22) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, January 6, 2007

Dreams of Summer and Riverbanks

The metal radiator barely warm through rattling sounds he dreams of summer riverbanks and fruit picked from the shade of cool willow Delicate soft made of female hands blowing in warm breeze just above her tossing red hair picking singular willow leaves Feet bared freckled and paired apart buttercups between lush toes Still somehow hidden under her garment of flapping cool Indian cotton skillfully the beautiful puppeteer pulled his wanting strings Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 3:54 AM | add or view comments (20) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Crow and Sky Lark

Crow And Sky Lark I know of the beauty Within silver and dark Shadow of Summer Crow and Sky Lark... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 9:55 AM | add or view comments (24) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Him Buzzing Me Walking

A Winters Walk And Talk One cold and lonely buzzing Bee did settle upon my right knee carefully I wrapped the friend in need within tissue paper and warm rucksack so he could accompany me Cloud swallowed morning sky’s puddle fields sprinkled silver me and Bee strolling bye sloppy muddy ditches full with moody faces daring jump or fall one more mile of slippery track rather then muddy me and Bee angrily buzzing upon my packed strapped back Waterfowl flapping,calling passing bye Bee buzzing me... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 4:46 AM | add or view comments (18) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, December 30, 2006

This Leather Slap

This leather slap of Old Lang Syne Invisible eyes of the swinging party Stinging unseen but felt by me As I toast the midnight chimes Half of spilt bitter memory One more year of unsavoury destiny Cheek printed hand red Determination running hiding from me Though if I listen carefully I can hear it, over there Behind the last stroke Of this, just one more cup Of unfulfilled dreams Next year, all eyes whisper In sadness or joyful tears For the sake of Old Lang Syne Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 4:36 AM | add or view comments (15) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Thursday, December 28, 2006

With Our Wine Dipped Lips

With our wine dipped lips Your pink and red Curvature, warm form That as shaped these Arms paired in time Lustful still, the glare Of these twined reflections Of soul knowing eyes This giggling act of Old fools young That is you And I, twirling desire Dropping, sinking Into howling folds Igniting flames, rolling Poetry of Raby, Scottish Carpet of Burns Sign in to see full entry.

posted by lionladroar at 11:09 AM | add or view comments (14) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

About this Blog

Ladroar just loves a minute by minute take on life, it's ups and downs and round and rounds. Finding myself honest and caring, then in the next moment. Daring the change, my mind begins its games and I must pick up pen or brush, or I might loose my fleeting expression. My brain's rush of thoughts; with my heart I judge each colourful image, that is brought to my attention by my old friend Imagination. I hope you enjoy the work we intend sharing with you all, good luck ! Michael

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