Amare Invano
For the Enemies of the Fancy Free
As we live to cry and cried
our eyeless eyes with all others
of straight normal lives green
happy fair approved yet dry.
red sopped in birdsong.
shady in gauzed shades are these
goffs they are those who
thrive they follow as it follows.
safe wound sound
though lit in lies.
But never should the wind turn for letters
bruised in memory of millions of me.
I am but lost and in demand
to help woman and man
but to love in vain is latent allegro.
cant merriment day with
wan cake wedded to screen and toggle.
let us let go to go and pray in vein.
there are millions of me.
there are millions of you.
but there is only us.
amare invano sings
much too much too loud
allowed aloud out
proud vanities!
its children are vanities!
children as vanities!
it ends time and in time
we cry our eyeless eyes with all others
of straight normal lives green
happy fair approved yet dry.
yet in envy feigned
the sea under constant
crying consanguinity
platelets red you think
they bleed for
above and over
peace in pieces of exhales.
But we are upheld alone happy
quiet with sea
taut august verbs
solemn sanctity
length and lot
the fancy free
but for you not foe
unwanted enemy
of the fancy-free
but not for you
vociferous frocks
members without limbs
pink diadems pregnant
hirsute dancing daughters
laughing in gated gruff!
amare invano amare invano
I run to speak with the caring waters.
alone in company where you could benefit and be
we who sound virgin light.
the fancy-free love
peace you pieces
of the common good
you good you risible legion!
married male madonnas
who look for Elvis, Lennon,
and the fancy-free.
Sunlight, speech, acceptance.
these the joys they cannot see.
the vanities kept in you
yet unknown to thee.
Because of the Train
In memory of Bloke Porter
We have twenty minutes till dawn.
For at least twenty and twenty years
I have worked in night.
all the night. In all the nights.
Even though no one knows
or knew about it.
Nearly now
we can go
like many things
Go away. Shrills cuss words in utterances.
Mean letters coldly aligned
shutter then lie down.
Though we pant in grey resultant.
Because of the train.
ennui in we in soaked silence
who smile
with wisdom of the fish bolts.
As Romance and Old Visions of Rome
land
In our seats.
We know nothing of these people.
Because of the train.
Iced auburn rails against the rails.
All of them so sweetly. I cannot begin to count
the burns. our assumed words
burned into our ears because we wasted not
our time. In hour's midnight.
Because of the train.
Soon birches will bend for
in smile of us, even when lights
release glitter ash
minus
moment
plus, my soul.
blessed is thy soul.
Because of the train.
in spite of no solace. We worked.
and this too. this is what
I too remembered.
Because.
Bio: Ernest Williamson III has published poetry in over two hundred journals. His poetry has appeared in numerous journals including The Roanoke Review, Pinyon Review, Westview, Decanto, Pamplemousse, Oklahoma Review, and Poetry, Life, & Times. Ernest is a three time Best of the Net nominee. Currently, he lives in Nashville, Tennessee. Learn more here: http://www.ernestwilliamsoniii.com
