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Karl's Poetry

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30th October 2009

louderback10:25am: Upon the Stairs-Just for fun
As I was walking up the stair
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I wish, I wish he'd stay away."
- Hughes Mearns

One night as I climbed up the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today
I think he's from the CIA.

One sunny day I climbed the stair
and met a beauteous woman there.
Alas, she was not there today.
I wish she had not gone away.

One shadowed night upon the stair
I met a man with bottom bare.
I asked him why he dressed that way;
He glared at me and ran away.

Noisy children on the stair
Left toys and objects everywhere
I gathered them; tossed them away;
And by their mother have been flayed.

I live atop a long dark stair,
In an apartment cold and bare.
Why I don't move I cannot say.
There's no good reason why I stay.

15th October 2009

louderback9:40am: The Ballad of Mighty Ed

I am enamored of the villanelle as a poetic form. When eight or more limericks related by subject or theme are gathered to lambaste said subject or theme, the poetic form is called a "villanous".

The Ballad of Mighty Ed


There's a mighty man named Ed
of which much can be sed.
When playin' backgammon
my checkers he's rammin'
and frequently I wish him ded

Righty Ed

The reason Ed's called Mighty
is not casual or flighty
It's his height and his girth
and intellectual worth
and a political tend to the righty.

The Fate of Ed

Ed, he worked in radio
before he met his lady-o.
He became a programmer
but belonged in the slammer
then he taught in a classroom/studio

Ratings Revival

It may be hard to believe
but plaudits Ed does receive.
His backgammon rating
is always inflating
and my own I cannot re-veeve.

The Art of Noice

Somewhat should be said of Ed's voice.
Its reverberations are choice.
He once did some adverts
and radio sales blurts
now he uses it mostly for noice.

The Diminution of Ed

Mighty Ed is known for his girth
his weight in gold of consid'rable worth
but he's rapidly losing.
To be svelte he is choosing
through exercise like Hell-on-Earth.


Ed's lady is Miss Kimmiepie.
Alas oft she does flie
to far Idaho
where, as you know,
they grow the potatoes you frie.

To Far for Sushi

Mighty Ed who plays backgammon
who my checkers is constantly hammerin'
lives too far away
to reach in a day
or we'd have sushi with wasabi and salmon.

Copyright 2009 R.R.Louderback
all rights reserved

14th October 2009

louderback7:52am: Limerick: The Unlucky Girl from Limogne

The Unlucky Girl from Limogne

An unlucky girl from Limogne,
while ill did mogne and did grogne,
     but once feeling better
     did noisily natter
while enjoying hot coffee and scones.

12th October 2009

louderback10:31am: Poem: Sky of Dreams
Under a Neon Sky of dreams
Where swift do chaos' clouds careen
Electric birds slash tree to tree
Leave ozone trails and thunder breed.

Swirling sounds rise high aloft
bleeding colors pastel and soft
into the air - a tangible thing
made of songs that children sing.

Falling rain leaves tiny spheres
to which the chips of leaves adhere
and wash away in bouncing streams
under a neon sky of dreams.

11th October 2009

louderback3:59pm: Weighted Down by Water x 2
Another fairly rare exercise in blank verse. I almost feel this should posted as prose.

Weighted Down By Water

When you read this I want you to think about me and about the wonderful times we've had.

Remember the time we went to Coney Island and those stupid hats we bought. We wore them all day long and you nearly cried when yours blew away on the way home.

Remember that old convertible we were driving when you lost your hat. The "road apple" we called it. We sold it for a hundred dollars to a kid that only had that much because he fell in love with the candy-apple paint job. It was his first car.

Singing in the shower is how I'll always remember you. You couldn't understand why I always laughed, but really, who sings songs from the "Animaniacs" in the shower? I mean "A quake... A quake ... The earth begins to shake!" Kiddy songs in the shower and torch songs in the twilight. That's you.

I know, I know. Don't even start about my habit of waving my hands while dancing. I can't help it. Remember that time you told me I looked like some CEO trying to manage a hostile take-over of an interpretive dance studio? How we laughed until we actually fell down?

Think of all those times and remember all that stuff. I will. I'll never forget them or any tiniest particle of you. Think of me like that, not in the bathtub surrounded by swirling pink and weighted down by water.

Weighted Down By Water Redux

Remember the cabin by the lake? How we used to skinny dip at dawn knowing we'd get caught by the fisherman down shore? How we'd laugh at his scowl and run without even a towel up to our cabin when he came paddling by, remember?

Remember the time you pushed me and I pulled you off the bow of the river boat that Sandy chartered for her wedding reception? Nobody believes us still when we talk about how we wound up swimming right in the middle of a school of dolphins. But we did.

We went to the park and spread out a picnic in the middle of a thunderstorm wearing slickers and galoshes and drank wine so thinned by the rain that it seemed like only water. Remember we got drunk anyway? God but you had a rotten cold afterward. I kept the electric blanket on your legs and massaged your feet every evening until you got well.

We ran into your parents at the public swimming pool that day when we told them we were studying. Remember how your father kept ducking me and got thrown out of the pool by that big valkyrie of a lifeguard?

All my memories of you are weighted down by water... and are all the more precious that I can pour them through my mind.

10th October 2009

louderback6:24pm: The Art of Parties
I ran from the whirling bright-lit world
to a place of quiet and sharing.
I found me some rest in silence furled
and surcease from caring.

My life in a world of noise and light
left me damaged and sore and guarding.
My mind was consumed with fancied flights
musing the art of parties.

When rapid motion is all the world,
and needful speed prevents you caring,
seek out silent fields in gentle light -
let your thoughts go faring.

small cake and finely cut bread

Signs of civility abound
skirts like clouds of mist all whirling.
My heart lifts at the orchestral sound
and I find my spirit freed, unbound.

The flash of light on polished sterling,
odors, sweet aromas that go to my head,
banners bright in the breeze unfurling,
warmth and courtesy 'round me curling.

There's naught I would have in their stead
gallantry, amenity, the world around me
seen in evidence of no stronger thread
than a small cake and finely cut bread.

9th October 2009

louderback8:31pm: Underneath Those Secrets
Underneath Those Secrets

There are secrets behind your eyes
and underneath those secrets lies.
I fear to bring them to the light, would rather hide them for the night.

Lying together side-by-side,
passion's touch a growing tide,
I'd rather believe your voice than have to make a lasting choice.

We've been together for a year,
but I feel the ending's near.
Too many things refuse to add or add to a result that's only bad.

What is the fault, the fatal flaw,
that leaves us to rub each other raw?
Why has love become but toil when once it made our blood to boil?

Simple answer: "no regrets"
You can keep your hateful secrets.
What we had was all for good and we loved each other while we could.


27th September 2009

louderback11:00am: A rare exercise in free verse
Some rare free verse (unrhymed verse without a consistent metrical pattern)


Hi, sit down young man.
It's nice of you to visit today.
I come on Fridays, Dad.
Oh. Well, I don't want to monopolize your time. If you should be talking to the others...
I came to see you.
Have we met? I was a programmer for years, had a national reputation of sorts. Did we meet at a seminar.
I'm your son Jack, Dad.
Of course... I'm just a little tired. How are you Joe?
I'm fine dad. I'm here to have lunch with you.
That's great! I'm allowed to have visitors for lunch, we all are. The food isn't very good though. I used to cook for my boys. I had a whole horde of kids, ten of 'em, all adopted.
I remember.
Never had more than five at home at one time, though. That was plenty of a mob for me. What was I saying? Oh... I used to cook for the boys. I was never much of a cook, but if it involved tomato sauce I could make it.
Together: chili, burritos, or spagetti.
I remember it well.
Have I cooked for you?
I'm your son Jack.
Oh sure! Are you good? I remember cooking chili for you boys. I never could cook chili like my Dad's. I wish you could have tasted it, but mine was not bad. Why don't you stay for lunch. I think they're having chili.
I will dad.
Good. Maybe we can eat out on the terrace. I like eating out-of-doors. I lived in Miami for years. It kinda spoiled me for eating outside.
I used to make a pot of spaghetti that would feed an army, cause I had an army to feed and we would eat on the back patio shoving big plates of spaghetti around with big pieces of crusty garlic bread. Those were good days!
Well, we can have lunch today.
You're staying? Good, we can have guests for lunch. I think they're having spaghetti. Should you be visiting one of the others though? I have family and lots of them don't...
I'm your family. It's me, Jack.
I'm just a little tired. Silly of me not to recognize you right away. Look, they're wheeling out lunch now. Let's go sit.
No, Dad, come this way, there's a seat on the patio.
Oh good. I like to eat outside. My first apartment in Miami had a wonderful patio. All the others were smaller and not as good. I wonder why?
Try the meat loaf Dad, it's not bad.
Meat loaf? This stuff barely qualifies, no flavor at all. I used to make a five-pound meat loaf for my boys. I put cheese and mushrooms right in the mix and pushed six or eight cloves of garlic into it while it baked. I topped it with the same sauce I used for spaghetti after I removed the garlic cloves. The boys used to just go through it like mad.
I remember. Are you finished Dad? You didn't eat much.
I never eat much of this garbage. I'll order some Chinese tonight, or maybe tomorrow and fill up.
OK, Dad. You want to get a lounge by the pool?
No. Don't you have to visit some of the others young man? I seem to be monopolizing your time?
I don't mind. We can spend as much time as you like together.
Let's go walking, then. There's a little pool down that path where I like to take off my shoes and wade a bit.
Dad, there's just trees and grass down there, no place to wade.
With respect, young man, I live here. I think I know what's here and what's not.
I'm sure you're right. Would you just as soon relax over here. There's a lounge under the awning. Nice shade for relaxing.
You could have just said you didn't want to walk.
Awaking from a quiet snore: I just drifted off there for a second. Warm weather'll do that to me.
We can talk a while if you like.
No. I'm a little tired. I'll just nap here.
OK, I'll go on then.
Thank you for visiting me. I appreciate you spending so much time.
It's my pleasure.
To his son's receding back: Jack?
Yes Dad.
Are you going now?
Did we have a good visit.
The best, as always. We had lunch together.
Yes, the chili. Not bad.

2nd January 2009

louderback6:46pm: The Starless Night of Dreams
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream
Dragged out from in the heart of my own mind
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

The blankness filled with every futile scheme
Informs my soul and desperation blind.
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream

Behind me in a rolling, crushing, stream,
Comes terror of a chilling, evil kind
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

On foolscap, ink records a nightmare's gleam
Then burns each day with red-hot flames entwined
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream

Of gaunt and ghast and red-lit burning steam
Upon the flesh of helpless ones confined
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

Spare me the embrace of the fiend supreme.
Who stole my eyes and made me ever blind.
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.


Form: villanelle

17th May 2008

louderback10:57am: Stairway


I climb, unlighted, through the dark
secure. I know above what I will find.
Ascending softly, borne by hope,
my heart a-thump and scarcely in my chest confined.

The doorknob turns and I softly step
to bedside, touch your tousled hair
and sigh, so foolishly relieved
to just discover that you're there.

21st February 2008

louderback12:10pm: Ice Storm Limerick

Ice Storm

Once when I slipped on the ice
I flopped and rolled over twice
I went ass over appetite
And farted to skywrite
"Walk softly, that's my advice!"

Copyright 2006 R.R.Louderback
all rights reserved

11th February 2008

louderback2:09pm: 2008.02.11

A parts of speech poem has five lines.
Line 1 is one article and 1 noun.
Line 2 is an adjective, a conjunction, and another adjective.
Line 3 is one verb, one conjunction and one verb.
Line 4 is one adverb.
Line 5 is one noun or pronoun that relates to line one

Parts of Speech

Compressed and compact
Crunching and collating

Shiny and clean
Tapping and rapping

A giant
Cold and alone
Sits and weeps

High and bright
Sedate or rushing

10th February 2008

louderback2:54pm: 2008.02.10 On reflection after a discussion of hacking


A guy I thought was a haxx0r
Turned out to be just a waxx0r
Running on windows
interfaced with nintendos
… so in disgust I just went and formatted my hard drive, installed Ubuntu and used it as a server for my Mac.

9th February 2008

louderback6:40pm: 2008.02.09 The Frozen Giant

The Giant of Capsheaf Crag

With winter's season he arrives
And sits upon the crag
He never moves but only weeps
Blue flowers by his side

Unmoving he through blizzard's snow
His sorrows ride the winds
His tears go trickling on the rocks
To the glacier far below

When winter fails he goes at last
To the mountain far above
And comes not back til winter blows
And the harvest moon has passed

I know not why the giant comes
A vigil or duty to those gone
or hope of a departed's return
Or the ghost of a lost love

I only know he always has
That his vigil never fails
That he is constant as the stars
And that he'll never pass.

8th February 2008

louderback3:53pm: 2008.02.08
for Marsha


When conversations tend toward insanity,
Or again toward compulsive inanity,
For a different tone,
I pick up my phone,
And dial someone possessing humanity.

7th February 2008

louderback12:31pm: 2008.02.07 "Pome duh Joor"

Mah Bukkit

I once dreamt I had a bucket
And a cubby in which I might tuck it.
My Freudian analyst
Called Mom a catalyst
So I walked out and yelled at him, "Fuck it!"

4th February 2008

louderback4:10pm: 2008.02.04 On my knees
Form: Triad of enclosed tercets Rhyme scheme: aba cdc efe


Dedicated -on my knees- to her for whom I weep

Wing broken, I am bound to Earth
In my minds I'm free and fly
But never the world can hear my mirth

Enfolded I could fight my fight
But my broken heart is gone
My bright belov'd has taken flight.

I whirl, a dervish, in my fear
Seeking out a guiding light
And find a distant lov'd one near.

3rd February 2008

louderback2:05pm: 2008.02.03 Doors
Form: Rhyming Quatrains
Rhyme: aaaa bbbb cccc dddd


I opened my doors and propped them wide
Hoping to entice inside
Some engaging passerby
To briefly bring my day some light.

The weather is cold and filled with rain
Though I checked ever and again
No trace of life was to be seen
Down my walk or down the lane.

I took my pup and sat outdoors
Hoping someone at their chores
Might pause between trips to the stores
And sit with me or come indoors.

I waited sad throughout the day
Nobody passed nor paused to stay
The day was cold and far too gray
And everyone just stayed away.

Tomorrow I'll open the door again
Tomorrow I'll nope for no more rain
I watch for walkers in the lane
And pray I will not watch in vain.

2nd February 2008

louderback2:19pm: 2008.02.02 Visions

The triad is a specific form of tercet. The origins of the triad are Irish and Welsh. A triad is a poem composed of three tercets. It is a consideration of three things and their effect on a person. Welsh versions of the Arthurian legends make heavy use of this form.
Form: Enclosed tercets
Rhyme Scheme: aba bcb cdc


I often see what others see
Though seldom as they see it
I see instead that which might be.

On city sidewalks dimly lit
Chalk lines where children gather
Seem like a map unfinished yet.

Explanation seems a bother
My sight seems to me just fine
It's what I see that I prefer.

1st February 2008

louderback12:36pm: Cinquains Various
Form: Cinquain

A cinquain has five lines.
Line 1 is one word (the title);
Line 2 is two words that describe the title.
Line 3 is three words that tell action
Line 4 is four words that express feeling
Line 5 is one word that recalls the title


Stiffly formal
Talking at me
He needs to die


Half paralyzed
We need us
I love her completely


Ever faithful
Always working hard
O! What a tragedy


Wait, Wait
Never go anywhere
I need to fly

31st January 2008

louderback3:34pm: 2008.01.31 A Writer's Life for Me!

A Writer's life for me!

Dedicated to "waiter"
With apologies to the spirit of Walt Disney

a Writer's life for me!
Elbow patches and ivy-league ties,
at cocktail parties while telling lies.

A writer's life is gay!
You meet odd people every day,
a Writer's life for me!

a writer's life is fun.

deadlines come and go.
Between times life is filled with stress,
you write your worst but try your best.

a writer's life is fun.
Cigarettes, strong black coffee,
Exhibiting viricapnity,
write all night then sleep 'til three,
a Writer's life for me!

a Writer's life for me!
Elbow patches and ivy-league ties,
at cocktail parties while telling lies.

an advance is not enough.
I need a regular salary;
I wait tables from six to three;
I never have enough to eat;
a Writer's life for me!

30th January 2008

louderback8:45pm: 2008.01.30 Solomnent Days

Somnolent Days

Somnolent days and sleepless nights
Plague my life and o'erfill my heart
Bruising without making a mark
And fill my mind with endless frights

I know not what I truly fear
But live each day with howling stress
Filled full with horrors unaddressed
Anticipating as they near

My life should be oh so serene
Responsibilities are few
And that is truly nothing new
I live my life as in a dream

15th January 2008

louderback12:35pm: Dancing - form: rictameter
A rictameter is a nine-line syllabic structure typically used in poetry. The lines start at two syllables, incrementing upward by two to ten in the fifth line and ending with the same two syllable word as the first line.


The swirl
The endlessness
Closeness like nothing else
Anticipating a movement
Minds and bodies linked to perform the steps
You know her better when dancing
Than you know anyone
You are one with
The swirl

louderback12:25pm: Unheard - form: rictameter
A rictameter is a nine-line syllabic structure typically used in poetry. The lines start at two syllables, incrementing upward by two to ten in the fifth line and ending with the same two syllable word as the first line.


Wind in the grass
Makes more noise than I do
I stalk the night unseen unknown
My goals mysterious even to me
But I must walk and see the dark
I must hear but not speak
I am a mute

louderback12:19pm: Lonely - form: rictameter
A rictameter is a nine-line syllabic structure typically used in poetry. The lines start at two syllables, incrementing upward by two to ten in the fifth line and ending with the same two syllable word as the first line.


Staying at home
Never going outside
Allowing the world to go past
I live as if I've already passed go
For me the world moves much to fast
Its like a circus ride
Leave me alone

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