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 Oct 2017
Dr Zik
Dilemma is not!
Against my will, faith or way
Coming toward you!
Dr ZIK'S POETRY
 Mar 2017
Joel M Frye
To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days.  Thank you.
 Oct 2015
AlanK
She’s lovely and petite,
Long flowing blonde hair,
The target of constant
Unwanted attention,
The **** of many crude jokes.
Though you can’t deny it
There is a kernel of truth
To every stereotype.
Shallow. Yes she is shallow.
Shallow as the flood waters
Three inches deep, powerful
Enough to sweep your car
Into a watery grave.
Superficial. Yes she is superficial.
Superficial as the thin layer
Of paint on a Renoir or Monet
Colors translucent and divine
Deep and lustrous
Transporting the imagination
To a world of romance and joy.
Clueless. Yes she is clueless.
Clueless as Sherlock Holmes
As he solves a mystery as dark
And complex as any labyrinth
With nary a clue, save for a trail
Of breadcrumbs and a scent of
Gardenia.
Airhead. Yes she is an airhead.
An airhead like the thinnest of air
Atop the mighty Himalayas where
Holy men choose to transcend the
Mundane and commune with
Spirits subtle and ethereal and ultimately
Unknowable.
The world sees her beauty and perhaps
Only her beauty, but they are blinded
By their shallowness, superficiality,
Cluelessness and a brain wallowing
In the clouds of misty ignorance.
Therein lies the joke.
 Oct 2015
Nat Lipstadt
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
 Oct 2015
niamh
Coiled tightly, a spring
Loaded with thoughts.
Pinballs endlessly searching
For a top score.
Ricocheting in the brain
Like a flexible bullet,
Wreaking havoc without
The final word.
A blossoming idea
And a pen without ink.
The lethal archer
With a crooked arrow.
Never hitting the target.
"The ballad of the flexible bullet" is a short story by Stephen King
 Aug 2015
DaSH the Hopeful
I've been looking for you all around

I can't find you in old photographs
And sometimes I can't reach you by phone
    But when I look in the mirror and see my smile

*I know I've found you
 May 2015
Carolin
We were the young
youth dying to fall in
love. Wondering lost
in the lands of God.
Looking for a warm
hug. For a hand to hold.
Looking for a flickering
candle light in the dead
of night. For a home and
a safe place to stay. We
found what we wanted
in each other's arms eyes ,
and untamed hearts. We
found the love and the light
We found our home in each
other's chests and bones* ~
 May 2015
Dr Zik
I can't change
departure into arrival
or vice versa
I find myself
to do one thing
I can feel affection
ZIK POETRY
 May 2015
Dr Zik
Jump, Jump, jump, bump,
Heaven to earth, jump

Bump, jump, bump, jump
Trip, slip and bump

Like ****, ****, ****
Don’t pile money jump
 May 2015
Dr Zik
what? why? when? where?
whose? whom?  who?

How dare you?
How dare you?

autumn prevails every where..
everybody have own share

yes... OK... why not...
would you like... thanks!

O' hay!...
O' hay!...

if you don't mind...
I am ready...

its my pleasure...
I am ready...

I love to... I love you...
so nice of you...

see you...

and spring prevails every where
without any care, everything fair

think for a while
friendly, hostile
where are you?
between the two!
Dr. ZIK Poetry
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