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