Another Pawn Promotion

The only point of view an artist has is their own;

Each work delivered, from their perceptible zone.

There are Kings and Queens demanding (or requesting),

That your eyes start serf-ing – a little momentary investing.

When you place two-cents, into their bank;

Then, they smile wide, and politely they thank…

When you tell them something is “not quite right”;

Then, they demand your opinion, leave from their sight…

…However there are a rare, chosen few –

Who only care, about the work they choose to do.

Not nonchalantly building, without punctuation onto the next piece;

But, ensuring the schema is well-thought, and constructed without a crease.

Nor, crafting a metaphysical design, with abstract profundity;

Structuring an enigmatic metaphor, with comparisons spread abundantly.

Their days spent, coloring their developments with whatever little hue

(Which at some point in time), might float in and tint their “TINY” view.

… Guess they need some regal or vain sense of corrective vision,

Much like the "Kings" and "Queens" need some humble revision…

While these pawns, who assemble clarified concepts, might seem narrow;

You can tell with each new step in the display, that: the art is part of their marrow.

Composed By: A. D.

Cremation

The middle of the night,
The vocabulary - fires;
(Mental sparks of light,
Burning body never expires)
These verbs - blazing bright,
Nouns piled bodies in a pyre.

Putting rhymes to death
Executing - at the end;
Words without a breath,
Smoke signals - ascend.

Composed By: A. D.

Eat Me

Every verse that`s constructed is so hot

That even after being removed four hours later

From an ice cold and frozen, refrigerator

They`ll still burn your eyes on the spot

Each line, into your mind, will sear

A poetic cook, a verbal version of Bobby Flay

Each stanza, grill marks on your brain inlay

Leaving their evidence quite clear

An adept in enclosing every rhyme

Each noun is a kernel of brown rice

Not bland, BAM, Emeril adding spice

Verbs, and modifiers are the thyme

With diligence, constructions sauté

Each dish these letters fashion

Is marinated purest passion

Ready to eat, without any delay

Prepared for each and every taste

Produced without erroneous haste

So not a single word goes to waste.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Blink

Time to grab a drink,

And take time to think.

Emotions like an ice rink,

And mind bent to the brink.

Steadily hope starts to sink.

Everything ends in a blink.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker