makingloveintheafternoon: Favorites

Jun 2020 makingloveintheafternoon

Hao Nguyen

"May These Words"

May these words in ink
live longer than those in breath
and endure the repeated age
where hypocrisy preaches
at the public podium,
shaking hands with Dishonesty
who covers the news.

May these observations on pages
paint brighter than hesitant eyes that fade
and illustrate the wrathful ghosts
that whisper false truths
on rain-coated sidewalks,
following Rage's footsteps
who vehemently scorns at children.

May these impressions on paper
dig deeper than those in spiteful hearts
and teach the patient students
who intently and diligently listen
within the congested parade's protest,
that screams for their master's attention
in exchange for their human rights.

May these humble reminders
be retained more often than my memoir
which reads euphoric epiphanies
commonly received as the norm,
learned from anonymous sources,
shared collectively by avid readers
who seek comfort in the man-made future.

May you forget my name, but quote my legacy
more as common sense than new ideas
for a poet's crumbled, graphite-soaked papers
change less than the actions of people
who march together, who sing together,
who work together, who smile together---
the singular entity worthy of remembrance.

#poetry #observation #didactic

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

HP = Hellacious [Word] Play

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

Mary-Eliz

HP = Hellacious [Word] Play

through the
Humbling Portal
of these
Hallowed Pages
you'll find

Hesitant Plunges
both by new
and "older"
Honored Poets

using
Harmonious Palettes
to create
Haunting Pictures
sometimes giving a
Heavenward Peek

through
Hypnotic Potpourri
Heady Perfume
even
Happy Poison

while
Hapless Pixies
and
Hopeful Prophets
Hunt Pearls
and
Hold Parades

that result in
Holy Pandemonium

yet
within our reach are
Homegrown Peaches
Hanging Pome
for our
Hungry Prowling

as we read
tales of
Heartless Paramours
Hissing Pit-vipers
who gave
Half Promises

we decipher
Humorous Puzzles
Hardest Perplexities
based on
Hysterical Pretexts
until our eyes see only
Haphazard Pixels
on the screen

and in a
Helpless Panic
we quickly read
the notes
a
Hasty Postlude#

#wordplay #silly #hp #poets #notes

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

When I am buried after a while only the strength remains.

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

Michael Kusi

When I am buried after a while only the strength remains.

When I am buried after a while only the strength remains
My body would be taken to the depths below
And lowered until dirt befriended skin
After a time and times, there would be no more skin
The dirt refused to add me
It blocked me from the land of the living
Because this was a parasitic relationship.
Because the ground below was not that kind of platform.

The fleshly nature of my seen parts is gone
The eyes, perish into the deep
Leaving only emptiness that speaks in all its fullness
The ears go to a place where sound will not be.
Because those who cannot hear consume those who cannot move.
Until there is nobody

There is nothing left but bones.
The bones, that I could feel only when I intercepted flesh
The bones, that I only worried about because of fracture or disease.
Are now most relevant because the time for both is past.
The part of myself that was not seen.
Will be the only attributes you will remember.
These bones will be the only contributions I can continue making to mankind after I am gone.

And when you dig up this bones
You will find a life full of memories
Scrapes in the playground
How tall I was, and how broad I am.
This postmortem autopsy will be my memoirs.
Just make sure to put my bone memoirs in the nice bookshelf of a burial ground
Put the glass of soil over it and I will be your prime exhibit.
So that people can visit this cemetery museum.
King Tut ain't got nothing on me.
© 12 hours ago

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

Unknown

Apr 2018 makingloveintheafternoon

Sally A Bayan

Unknown

?????????

Time is not flying
the evening hours are so slow, inching by
and spent tossing and turning
my restless mind roams dark avenues
my restless feet roam the bed,
left...right...then back, over and over.
the bed, that was my hammock....no longer sways
a promise of peaceful slumber, flies away,
???????
new and strange images
start to trail me...they're heavy tassels,
tagging on the hemlines of my mind,
seeking to connect...to be known
???????
this late hour, i recall
a forked road, not far from a winding road,
from afar, a child admires a white castle
high as the clouds, its windows, foggy,
its high fence, mossy...on its front lawn
is a treehouse, perched...resting like a bird
inside a very old tree, leaning to its left side,
with a long set of steps...all painted white.
just below the white steps are gathered,
doyens of poetry...seated in their own chosen
corners...tacit, yet, empowered by their brilliant minds
the tips of their feathered pens, smoothly sliding on
paper......strange, that they're waving at me,
why, they could be dead!
???????
i must be dreaming...my muse is showing
me paths, i would think twice of treading
???????
a quartered moon selfishly glows
unsettles even more, my murky thoughts...
yet....my pressing thumb is on my journals
i must heed.........the need.
???????
"o' my elusive unknown poem,
kindly show me...lead me to your home
let my pen give light to your dim path
give second wind to my weary mind and heart,
deny, even a bit of a space......for wrath,

help me, push me...my efforts musn't cease
show me your face...we'll both have peace."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
~
Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 21, 2018

...started with a dream.....then scribbled...and scribbled...
I don't know if there is any sense in all these...pardon me, guys...

#strange #dreams #doyensofpoetry #whitecastle #unknownpoem

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