Born in california, I have barely begun my life though I feel much older than my age would imply. My poetry gives me a vent and release for my thoughts and frustrations. more »
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Kevin Maroney Poems
A Cloudy Morning
The clouds, Elegantly do they stride In their heavenly chambers In the sky.
What is beauty, but a Tool. For itself, or a more sinister, good, evil, objective subjection?
What've I got
What's it gotten me? Studying, praying for high marks Enduring those insanely jesting jackals That torment me ever so.
Life's grand, a great big sun, under which the rain can run, an amalgamated torrent, a verdant river, both of green growth and red slimy slither.
A Baker's Line
A baker in the baker's line, just like others, right on time. He turns it one and fires it true, to only some's woe and rue.
When death stares one in the face the thing to do is laugh in disgrace, as the inevitable scythe swings towards the dome, swiftly fast to take you home.
The Girl and her Dragon
There was once a girl, locked in a tower, Up so high all she could do was sigh, As she looked down at her dragon without the power, To escape from the beast, her horrid captor.
Not a matter of the color But a matter of the Mind. Diseased, it seeds many small rinds.
An ocean, Yes, an ocean of Expressionless
One day down Another coming. When I'm down in the dark I'll get up and running.
Down the Fire Hole
A diet of worms, who would spurn, Not evil, not rack, but who would burn? Witches and demons, walk from the crypt To say their farewells to a life to them fict.
Those leaves, as they whiten in the breeze, through ever loftier, higher trees, they sing aloud for all to hear, that more they are, oh so dear.
The Nymph and the Snake
Asleep in the meadow, the nymph did sing, In her rest, did her dreams happiness bring, Beauty of the sunset, sublime as the dew, All of these things rested squarely in you.
The Noble Mountain
The noble mountain, atop his throne, Of earth and molten lava and stone, He sits, he thinks, his head so high, And when people see him they can only but sigh.
Comments about Kevin Maroney
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Cloudy Morning
Elegantly do they stride
In their heavenly chambers
In the sky.
That I should be chained here
Forced to bear witness to such majesty.
If my own thoughts and wishes were met,
I would glide out of this world
On a silky nimbus
To escape this silly, flitty society.