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

Sunday, October 15, 2006

The Round Table on Sundays

Sundays Memory’s and Dreams Wife’s mother is now mine My mother as become her mother By law, or in law Both grandmothers Are round for Sunday lunch They eat and talk of last week I talk of yesterday, even today The children sit quietly Staring into thin air Thinking and dreaming of Tomorrow, I bet I am close There again, Belinda’s probably Thinking, I'd rather have melted Butter on! A thick slice of toast I remember David and Belinda Smiling Sundays Still, now there’ve got Kids of their own... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Butterfly Rap, Rap

BUTTERFLY Rap! Slamming, nice sound Shut My maroon Aston Martin saloon Door Swaggering hip Putting cigarette too Curled lips Hand inside back pocket Faded blue Notorious in denim Gliding urban tiptoe In brand new Brand name plimsoll Orange sunset printed On black sleeveless T-shirt Puffing perfect smoke rings Wearing Clint Eastwood’s Glare Running cool hands Through Just right looking Styled hair I’m Cool Yea! Out of one Squinting eye Surprising me Breezing bye On light green, Red shining motif... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Angel or Alien

Angel or Alien ''It was a flaming alien '. Aloud cried Alison’s father. ‘’You should no girl, angels don’t land on top of your roof, in saucer shaped things, their always written about in holy books, they bring messages of good tidings, they fly with great feathery wings, flapping like swans, no long necks though, mind, some have a circle of light, you no girl, an halo.’ But dad this one had, anyhow. You wouldn’t no? Drunk, slumped in your chair, bits of sandwich, ham, cheese, tomato sauciness... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

What's Time, it's just a watch my dad wears on his wrist

I have been doing a little voluntary work for the last two years, in the form of helping professionals whom in turn help troubled young men, come to an understanding about themselves, confidence boosting really, is what I would call the therapy they receive. Twice a month I arrive with two kayaks, and the kit for a day on the river. My friend whom asked if I would be willing in giving up just a little of my time, is always waiting with two young men, that he thinks could do with the change of... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Autumn Sunset

The Sunset winks artistically Whilst nudging his sister Evening Sky Both giggling at the setting, for this evenings Last smiling surprise. With one last colourful splashing dive. Bright, in tune with creations Free variations, in ending the day Brother Sun, summersaults As curtains raise, For this nights, applauding Glowing encore. Reflecting riverbanks blazing, Gold’s, mixed with heavenly fire Dashing into different shades, Beauty slowly melts, droplets Of calming thoughts for the minds eye... Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, October 9, 2006

Redcoats and Bayonets

RED COATS AND BAYONETS Shining brass buttons polished by calloused hands Feet sweating within black boots marching through foreign lands Orders are orders my boy stand proud and be a man Sand dunes forming, winds and storms, are moving guilty layers of greed and pride, hidden centuries; will be gently brushed aside, archaeologists becoming famous for wondrous fines; cheered and respected. Legends proven true, mysteries solved by the studying of nations acts of war. Conquers victories, the... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, October 7, 2006

Acceptance

LINE OUT I was informed two years ago by phone after playing rugby since the age of twelve ( Mick your old and slow mate, for your own sake hang up your boots, give out the oranges at half time ) This is the poem I wrote, awakening the next morning. Acceptance Of Rejection Bed side table Sleepy gaze and sleepy thoughts Walk hand in hand across my pillow Drawn too the bricabrac bits of me A scattered tabletop Like a bloodless butchers block Painful the hurt in my mind Having to except change in... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, October 3, 2006

Delusions

Delusions, guns and cowboy hats. Dolls and mothers brand-new, red stiletto heals. Children, boys, girls. Acting, mature roles. Leaping, diving into adulthood. Mind games, imaginations play. Men, overcoats, Sundays after Saturday nights. Watching Italians in films. Women, blonde in bus stop queues. Sweaters, stretched. Marilyn Monroe tattooed, impersonating breast. Sun glasses winter sun Glaring winter sun White lines reflect Like search lights Mixed With my car engines Hum It's Sunday morning I... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, October 1, 2006

Fever and Trance Latin Swinging Enharnce Dance

Sin-do-you-Rita She make's you sigh sin-more Will love applaud Or cast its eyes Downwards towards The floor Will lust jump From the gallery Deep in Latin voice Pardon me Sin-more Sin-do-you-Rita Salsa with me across The dance floor Sin-do-you-Rita Begs lust for sin-more Who strides towards This Spanish furore With fever and passion Hip, stylish swaying Knives in black boots tight Red the colour of this satire Walking like matadors Bare-chested Masculine hormone, sweating! Now, lust is no more... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Tina

Tina Chockalott button eyes open like a soft sun rise, moonshine reflects In her silky black curled hair With gentle finger tips I trace her olive skinned complexion her gypsy soul melding direction Like the breeze of a ghost, they slide over neck and breast, I resist, wrestling desire, searing purple flames I alone must tame. My loins twist With the eye of the artist I admire this living cameo broach, embossed on her silky white pillow Mediterranean beauty sweet sincerity my signora Tina Sign in to see full 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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