A Pensive Anthology
by
Tony Donbell
With special thanks to the
Poet Co-operative Poetry0nline.com.
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Tony Donbell on Smashwords
A Pensive Anthology:
Copyright © 2011 Tony Donbell
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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Poet Co-operative
Poetry0nline.com
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The poet co-operative was founded on August 2011. It hosts an archive of poems from various contemporary poets. The author may be contacted directly via: http://www.poetry0nline.com.
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Table of Poems
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A Gambler's Mind
Arab Spring
Atheist Convert
A Tramp
Capitalist
Cosmos
Cycles
Duellist
Excessum
Fire with fire
Future
Golden Pyramidion
Hellas
Hypnosis
Intoxication
Motion
Nobody will Confess
Once Said
Poet Mark
Predatory
Shadows
She wolf
Superficial 7 sins
The Dawn
The Poet
Unclean Hands
Wealth
Another Railway Man
Progenitor
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Prologue
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The poems, included in this publication, would probably take a 1000 page volume to partially explain. Each stanza can vary in depth as to meaning. It is, therefore, left to the reader to take from these poems whatever impresses. The poems are designed to provoke thought. If you are left in deep thought then that is all. Thank you.
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A Gambler's Mind
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A marquise beneath my skin
It has an excellent symmetry
A top notch quality
With hardly an impurity
It sparkles a fine brilliance
I have it for a rainy day
When all is risked and seems to fail
I gaze upon my implant
I know it's there for me
An insurance some might say
They call me an adrenalin junkie
I like risk, you see
It could be a mental disorder
Or something is wrong with me
I know it will be my death
I've lost all sense of value
Joe Blogs can't fathom my scale
To him what seems extraordinary
Feels trifling to me
But, I know Joe Blogs is right
On many occasions I've asked
What really matters in life?
For I can't seem to smile deep down
And material matters little to me
It's the buzz that I get, you see
I try to be logical in what I do
I work out the percentages
To manage the risk, you see
I think I have it controlled
But, it's really controlling me
Now, everything that I do
Is based on some system, you see
It's totally unemotional
As cold as steel as can be
It's not that you're not nice
Occasionally I'll go back in time
I wonder how and why
I have no answer, you see
I'll be drunk in my misery
It's a wretched life this uncertainty
I've lost my sense of fear
Well, it's on another plane
The house I have is collateral
And I've risked it many a times
Only God can save me
There is always the chance
That it will come good
Or that another opportunity abounds
But, if you can't slice your deck
You'd better run a mile
It's not that I'm a bastard
It's just a war, you see
I have to kill you before you kill me
It's just the way it is
I want to live, you see
I know my clock is ticking
I know I'll perish soon
And lady luck will smile no more
Then heaven will await me or hell
It will be my fifty fifty
But, be it God or the Devil
I'm sure to roll the dice
I'll work out the odds, for sure
And throw them both a wager
Without my marquise and me
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Arab Spring
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On the faintest running water,
surrounded by lush greenery,
in middle of an arid landscape,
amongst the palms, the finest dates.
Tyrannical phobias now lifted burdens,
in this Arcadia where death still lurks,
no longer to make timid or control,
amongst the soothing olive groves.
The masses stir densely collected,
gathering fruits, figs and apricots,
whilst, missiles lose deterrence,
on thoughts woven with ripened peach trees.
Assertive fighters for liberty,
for a new Oasis forms to empower Janus,
by fists, if need be, against tanks,
as the sun rises on the scorched dunes.
With nothing further or to lose,
to fulfil historical promises,
though delicate are the living,
in the nightly ice felt temperatures.
Watch the baring for freedom,
as trickle forms into a tsunami,
of armaments, discharged powder,
which no torrid heat nor freeze stops.
On challenge, deception, counter bluff,
beyond the rich green tranquillity,
sadistic despots now in hiding,
despite the wheat, barley and millet.
Demonstrators fired, with scuds,
where the antelope once roamed freely,
by sharpened eyed deceived snipers,
so neither camel or even gazelle drink.
To raise those victims highly in march,
and sip this thirsty quench for thought,
a top as liberty martyrs amongst angels,
listen to paradisical birds in song.
Arabs, Berber, Islam, Coptic - free,
no visionary mirage, to breathe a sigh,
for open speech turned apparent,
so desperately determined made true.
Taken for granted by those not wanting,
for want of plentiful redistribution,
Naive, not for knowing the correct,
to douse suppression extinguished.
An Arab Spring freshly new born,
for the righteous Arabs with honour,
for stable trade to pick the ripened Oasis,
to be free by themselves as others.
Guarded outsider multi-corporates,
the Islamic world tames these leviathans,
against hidden agendas - no more,
blessed by opulence and high culture.
That leave the sweet fruitfulness,
on the real Oasis presently apparent,
Though dried in ruins the harvest,
for now the middle Earth on sea.
Shed for a justice set in stone,
Zionists and Phoenicians soon the focus,
moved by the images so ingrained,
persecuting by persecuted in death throes.
Save this precious natural wonder,
from a Herculean war to clash no more,
for eiarinos her wishes are genuine,
No more the mushroom clouds instead doves.
A dream, perhaps not, in spring.
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Atheist Convert
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Disbelievingly, an intellectual traveller
walked towards the city's main Cathedral.
A towering magnificent Medieval construction,
built in an epoch of tumultuous Crusades.
At a time when Europe's principal dogma
was practising the Gospel literally,
and the aristocratic politics of the age
was dominated by the providential Church.
The atheist traveller discordantly regarded
the Bible passages as mostly mythological.
Passed on by wondering nomadic tribes
and roughly scribed from earliest times.
It started amongst Judaic seditious preachers.
Now, identity ingrained, deep into the bedrock.
Forming into a mainstay of European consciousness.
Culturally combined with the Ancients, in synthesis.
The traveller passed the wrought iron gates
observing the fine gargoyle shaped masonry.
When he became griped by derision for crossing.
He swelled into profound pensiveness.
His mind clearly denouncing religions as fictitious.
He believed Europe must break from its clutches.
Harping back for an enlightened, rational
scientific age of reason.
For he would Hail the 14th of July, 1789.
An epoch that saw the first erosion of superstitions.
Which carried on until the bayonets and cannons
of Napoleon's Grande Armee were finally silenced.
Napoleon was the vanguard liberating Europe
from the Ancient Regimes with Clerics and Pontiffs.
Replacing them with intellectualism, rationality.
Pushing beyond the frontiers of la belle France.
These thoughtful outbursts calmed him for the tour.
He decided to open himself, analytically, with reason.
Despite the irony of the impending visit now upon him,
of the Cathedral's detested Majesty.
Now, entered the rational logical traveller,
through intricate worked giant wooden doors.
Gazing in wonder at the impressive skill and craftsmanship
from devote but uneducated religious ancestors.
The hand carvings, even on the antique furnishings.
Some with old rouge finely cured leather cushions.
The whiff of the aroma olden aged, ashed burned candles
and fragrant dense incense spirals through high acoustics.
What light there was hypnotically spiritual,
peering through the ether on darkened aisles.
On vision the rays in myriad spectrum display,
passing translucent stained glass Gothic windows.
Adorned with Saints and crested Medieval Knights,
as if from Mount Atlas surrounded by all the Gods.
depicting a Biblical epic, even St George slaying the dragon.
Nearby each arch, the stages of the cross.
He felt deeply elevated with unusual sensations.
Not by narcotics, nor opiates, as he thought the religious.
Entering another dimension which uplifted his senses.
Though his feet were firmly on the patterned marbled floor.
He found himself studious at Saintly statues
and the various religious worshipped icons.
Some with cryptic messages or symbolism,
by Templar Orders, ritualised by Holy Land journeys.
Aphoristically wondering as to the possible meanings.
Noticing that each statue, from the Holy Mother Mary
to St Peter, was drenched in a dark liquid substance.
It took on the appearance of deep red colouring.
Though impaired by the obscured vision in the Cathedral,
since, there was little luminous light, due to the smoke.
The traveller reached out to touch the statues
and the red dye felt unusual to the touch.
Possibly, it was décor from a recent festival,
with the faithful in procession carrying each statue.
It sure seemed very much like blood stains
and it was very copiously adorned.
He was totally dismissive, as it seemed like paint.
Ignoring his induction which would indicate otherwise.
Yet, the traveller was pacing deeper into self-feelings,
as he passed by Christ's bloodied crucifixion.
It was noticeable - the suffering painfully for our Sins.
How strange this affliction and punishment seemed.
He continuing onwards deducing nothing untoward.
Still ignoring his inductive reasoning.
Now, he was between the nave and the sanctuary,
where walked onto a set antiquated stairs.