Serenade

serenade, serenade
From dusk till daylight breaks.

Horrible bass, horrible tune,
horrible rhyme in bulky shoes.

In character, but out of depth,
he serenades his beloved from a good night’s rest.

She hates it, but knows not how to say;
reproves it with the show of her face.

Bulky shoes, too big for his boots—
oh, the man sings away!

serenade, serenade
From dusk till daylight breaks…

Am I better than the beloved anyway?
Sleep stolen from me by dreams of a serenade day.

© achillesheelpoetry, 2026

That’s not your name

But that’s not your name
they call you when
cowardice in verbosity
cloaked.

That’s not your name
they call you when
weak character in ten too
many words shone.

That’s not your name
what can hurt you not
nor make, break
or write your fate.

That’s not your name,
for the only name
you own
is the one that tread twenty
in your shoes.

So smirk and wince, and smirk again
a jiffy, no more.

Walk on.

For that’s not your name, it’s theirs
that they keep calling you

© achillesheelpoetry, 2026