sift them with adoring fingers,
some small, through fingers fall,
with thumb and forefinger, lift
for close~on examination
loved for their color and clarity,
and for the skill of men who take
them raw, cut and carat to become
spectacular improved o'er god's
initializing intimation
one of the few things men improves from nature taken
lust for their luster,
their clarity reflects no impurities,
some merely hard, some hardened
enough to cut skin and soul
their origin?
from deeper within
the human organs
they are spawned
these sounds of newborn
precious words,
their pleasure given,
humbles me,
these nuanced miracles of human creation,
under jewelers loupe examined,
tongue tasted,
by eye clarified,
innate sounds modifiable
to please the human ear-ring
and born with a certificate of
commonality, like bread
broken for sharing,
and for those who eat these,
add them to your collection,
and by bespeaking, free them,
*read them aloud,
so they may travel to every country,
where hello,
and haloed poetry is spoken*
2:52am !0-25-25
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 2:58 PM UTC
the surprisingly sweetest clementine
2016
amidst
the marble and stone pillars
of the museum's fifth avenue grand hall,
a woman grows faint and woozy,
and the Egyptian artifacts five thousand years old,
re-proved as reusable, sustainable,
as leaning-against-posts
for the dizzy
the boyfriend well familiar
with dehydration side effects,
from pocket pulls a natural pill of
a sweet clementine,
restoring the well
to the good
she marvels at
how came I
to place a survival kit in my
coat pocket?
smiling, he confesses
his fondness for
providing
for all her needs,
known and unknown
even carries an inventory,
with back ups to back ups,
assorted sundries,
he calls it,
proving his point too well,
reaching into the other
pocket and offering
yet another,
a second helping
for his,
oh my darling,
sweetest clementine
she, undecided,
laugh or cry,
both equally attractive amazement solutions,
says only:
I love you for reasons,
known and unknown,
now,
take me home
for reasons
now known,
and others,
as of yet,
most happily,
unknown
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 3:39 PM UTC
nonetheless
every "thank you"
for every
hug and kiss,
light emission
shone my way,
is rebroadcast
as a recorded,
upon one of my
a-smiley dimpled
face,
upon my totality of my,
actual realized reality
they are:
freezer bag stored, for a day
that cannot be completed,
without the bonus of
your good wishes,
and if a day shall pass,
where fresh ones can't be delivered,
no worries,
just purchased a
large size freezer
for rainy day storage^^
and
if so desired will send
photographic proof,
of the mustache I no
longer po-sess, turning
upwards, a grin from
hear to there, there,
there by definition,
being where you are,
actual realized reality
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 3:36 PM UTC
so many good people greater
together
that's a hell of a resume…
thanks, we owe you…
p.s. please don't let us wither away…
[email protected]
Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 11:55 AM UTC
the elegances of minutiae, the grandeur of detail
********
inspired by m vogel
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5097839/airborne-part-i/
&&&&&&&
perhaps, unlikely, unwittingly
your fingertips bring you to a familiarity,
stumbling into a new door, taken by the intricate intrigue of any
of:
name, style, handwriting, overlapping language
and sometimes pure chance, impure luck,
leads one to a poem,
that soddens your soul,
the elegances of minutiae, the grandeur of detail,
the rendering of pain so swelling in a heart,
where loss is everything and then there is
absence,
and though a life can be voided,
a poem is forever,
for it lives in a land of luck of the draw
and you read this poem above,
and you are airborne into a deeper sea depth
that makes the chest arrest, the legs limp,
the intensity of the details
insist one clutches his neck
to ascertain that the choking will not be permanent
this falling into a poem
bedevils me,
and tells me the road ahead
so open, so wide, scarcely touched by
footsteps,
and return you do
for a second tasting, a third emulsion,
and though you leave another's poem,
the heaviness of chest informs yourself,
this is now part of my baggage
that cannot be be ever lost,
but will go round and round
the luggage carousel
till it is your turn
to take it home
Sept. 23, 2025
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC
admit it
deny it
la même **** chose
('same **** thing", per Google Translate)
we are all in the hunt
for that lapsing lasting
finale royale,
of the
Last Perfect Poem.
Finale Royale...
no you say?
oh yeah…
u want a perfect love plus etc., and etc. and etceteras
and so on.
My unwanted advice:
pick one,
let the others ride.
You have to finally decide! ^
which is your perfect…
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:23 AM UTC
Slices of My Body (that are never seen)
………………………………………………
with scalpel, with ultrasonography,
the cutters cut, the technicians bombarded,
pieces and images of my internals sent to the
laboratories that are never seen…
well hidden, behind technically sounding
signs and very locked doors, the analyses, were
performed to better explicate my unusual
symptoms that had never seen …
to aid and assist the medicine men, whose
fingers thrummed and beat time to my
puzzle pieces, my unpredictable internality's,
imperfections, that contravened, internecined
with each other, so they cagey convoluted my
diagnostic definition of deficiencies humanistic
that are never seen seen…
*And I asked them about love, the battles within,
the damages and defeats, the ecstasies & injuries
that are never ever revealed, though not so well
hidden deep as one would think, visible only by
magnification and sonar doppler waves, reluctantly
they spoke of things, imagery, colors decoding,
that are never seen*
*"your blood flows patent and compressible, that's good,
but at various points in your life, volcanic eruptions
were regular occurrences, and the impacts resulting,
their his~stories were soundly astounding, revealing,
of passion passing so overtly dangerous, nearly
incomprehensible, that repeatedly reveled, indicative of repeated waves of survival and recovery"*
"that had never been seen"
*"And various times for periods lengthy and abbreviated,
you loved ferociously, with reckless disregard for your
sanity and sanitary, when and where the blood did not flow to parts of you, and the dead capillaries are with dried flows
filled with extruded, solidified lava love, forever closed~beyond reparation"*
"that had never been seen"
This information was delivered to me, by them,
with great hesitation and trepidation, thinking,
that this would prove most shocking; unbeknownst
to them, neither the action/reaction, of my love~affairs,
nor the the largest of their consequences, the varied
resultant effects that their researches revealed
were things, felt, palpable, extant, truly real
That the damages to my heart were significant,
and my body's own attempt to salvage, to save,
were evident, but succumbed time and time again
to the shock waves of explosive concentrations
of love's disruptions, that prevented substantive healing
came as no surprise, for my poetry of all year's past,
catalogued the travails of my travelogues, and even
though some,
as old half a century ago, well preserved,
were they, they were! in
both large and microscopic elements within,
of them:
were line and linen
items of my life, wrinkled, worn,
but well recalled, cherished
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
^
capable of being touched or felt, TANGIBLE
easily perceptible, NOTICEABLE
easily perceptible by the mind, MANIFEST
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
*mind, body
tangible, noticeable…manifest
a summary specific quality,
body, mind, you, me,
actual, imagined…felt
realized, visible, invisible
palpably difficult, struggling to tell,
the nuances well, so easy understood,
yet,
so credibly hard to to my
cred,
to re-realize the*
essential essential
*of getting this
precise,
right.
knowing fully well,
that twice alright
have made the
human touch
my poetic target,*
and yet,
(always, always an and yet)
*I fear my failure
to touch you
to whom I communicate
by ether and pixilation,
by wire and satellite,
across continents,
through pouring secretions
from my pores
how palpable is the need
of my heart beating to
feel understood,*
*this need, so urgent,
to kiss your lips,
brace you to embrace,
pervade your kind mind,
(kind enough to let me enter),*
**to tangibly manifest
from my skin to your skin,
from my creviced mind,
to your creviced heart,
the pounding albatross
of this verbal unreality,
that is so real to me***
*that shakes with pleasured
anticipate, that the very
thought, of your reading
this loving wail,
this so tangible gesture,
breaks me to real-ease,
the tears pooling in my
eyes to land on your
exquisitely soft cheeks,*
and to take them away
returned to me, with gentlest
of a finger uplifting them,
and placing them on my
tongue,
for safekeeping…*
10/8
0907am
Wed
2025
~~~~
^
capable of being touched or felt, TANGIBLE
easily perceptible, NOTICEABLE
easily perceptible by the mind, MANIFEST
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 4:34 PM UTC
thus by prosecutor charg-ed, with this crime so heinous~ed,
the judge insisted on a super speedy trial, this, a special case-d
"can't wait to hang this ***** be~deviler,
got me a jail, second only to hell,
if he thinks his hifalutin lawyers will get him de-roped!"
I plead guilty to save the state some moola,
avoid the expense of all the attendant hoopla,
but in my tired defense, I said little but this,
it was god who cursed me with this word-ly power!
now I ain't saying I was naturally bad,
but who are you to judge me so harshly ,
when all I did, with a tool god~given, was,
tell people how beautiful they are, so close.
never far, from bringing them forth to their fruition
so my intentions were good, tho my goose is cooked,
loonily, this I truthfully willingly confess, though just as bad,
I was lazy, I was negligent, I am now hell-bent for many
infractions, the greatest, chiefest of them all, was all the times,
!!!!!
***read a poem much beloved by other's on this blue earth,
weak from jealousy jealous, I never...reposted it! for their way
much better than mine, and I was too selfish to praise them,
so I expect I won't be too lonely in perdition, just another poet***
!!!!!!!! addition
*so children, teach your children well
a poet's hell will slowly go by, if they
fail to repost them hundreds of poems
that mak'em gasp~laugh-just plain weep,
for that will really **** (sorry lord) the one
true judge wh gave us this wordy blessing,
and is eagerly awaiting us special*
sinners
and that just might be my one true name…
(Oh sinner~man!
where are you gonna run too)
[{(]})]
p.s. this poem readily available to be reposted ('jes a 'gestion)
even
plagiarized elsewhere, but remember, when you, who stole it,
somebody's a~watching whose
vision is unimpaired.
plus, I got new software invented by Ai trained teachers,
so so, easy to find ya...
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 10:35 AM UTC
I skip, across a streaming, upon random~laid
flat and comfortable flat flagstone stepping stones,
from poet to poet, color to color, poem to poem,
Auden to Whitman, Schuyler to
myself, a dingaling notion, an errant word,
the here to there, all randoms, yet,
oval chain linked all,
a question posed, an answer unknown,
a reference to an old Italian myth,
and there, and here, a body,
comes to rest,
& also,
comes to rest…
<>
led not by the nose, but the single fingered
tip that guides across a landscape patterned
painting, lost but never a loser, each implants,
each imbibes, and the H&H^ alternatively
rumbles, pounds, vibrato burns erratically,
and the difference between a life in love,
and a life in poetry,
is not a line dividing,
but a path combining,
and the only sign
upon the road,
is never a reddened "stop!"
always just a soft lavender, so tender, inquiring,
requiring, deep thoughts and reckless abandonment,
the only guide inspired when ecstatic adrift in
a season, a sea, any one of nature's designed
unlimited
schemata's of vista creations,
is this, simply stated:
What?
<>
postscript
6:27 Sabbath Sep 27
nyc
after a sunrise glorious, where
the windows eastern facing
make an irresistible irrational
pattern of golden yellow reflecting,
mirrors, and
after reading much,
and so I too, reflect, vista, vista,
what do you see, I see…What?
after reading a poem by James Schuyler,
entitled (yes, we are)
"What"^^
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 10:16 PM UTC