Poetoftheway

Dec 7

Pedro Andres Rodriguez

“It's me that shines and sparkles
when others strike you down.
It's me that rises firmly,
well-planted on the ground.”

They send you to the gallows
with unrelenting doubt
and perch me like a songbird
upon a stem, devout.

And preach to you but one psalm
"you will not sing again,"
be still, that cry inside you
shall wake me in the end.

Oh, life may cut your feathers
and cage me deep inside,
begrudge, that I may offer
your will, your soul, your pride.

But know I yearn to fly high,
soar free and reach for stars.
It's me that shines and sparkles
the dimmest from afar.

Still some will prune your flower,
dead head me 'til I dry,
reseed me in a garden
with never-ending lie.

Despair may even charm you,
bereave me on a bed
and cover me with worry;
of glimmer not a shred.

A rose that will not wither-
the one inside of you.
A bird that never quivers
when but the sky is blue.

I am the tender branches,
me, I'm the humming bird;
the only psalm that lingers
when all of them are heard.

It's me that shines and sparkles
when others strike you down.
It's Hope that rises firmly,
well-planted on the ground.

Dedicated to my son Gabriel, who is my star and guiding light. May you shine bright always.

#rhyme #hope

Poetoftheway Dec 6

scraps & scrapes of scripts

scraps and scrapes of
scripts,
from tears and zippered weeping of
rips,
lie upon my consciousness like pimpled
irritants,
begging for compassion wetness of
completetedness,
but time is a bitchye mistress, fools not with
suffering,
so herein dispatched one of many driftwoods
dispatched

and let us say
who’s up next. Amen!

#scraps #scrapes #of #scripts

Dec 6

onlylovepoetry

the next poem

“But nobody really cares about how a poem has done! The only thing worth talking about is
what is the next poem”

<>
how brief are these pleasures
that are oft tendered to our senses,
sunrise, sunset, eclipses
all ****** too quick,

yes,
a slow read, a leisurely walk amid
the bombast of colors falling extraordinaire
even the denuded trees
are blinked away too easy,
even though they longer linger,
our body clocks knowingly admits
that even the still of snow covered lands
or the blanketing grating grays
of a Midwest Great Lakes winter sky
goes on and on
too **** long,
they too to can be, are,
imagined away without too much difficulty

so too,
the next poem*
can be hounding incessantly, crying out for
your undivided-under-god,
for attention to be paid
and paid again

but more likely
be a desert away of unwatered vast eternal spaces, and inspiration is only a mirage
that searingly teasing you for relief
from can’t get go satisfaction
for that next poem
is perpetually around the
next corner,
moving faster than your heart’s beating,
the words that need believing,
need bleeding for
they come at great cost,
never simple, never flawless,
just raw unpolished
that is always the

next poem

#onlylovepoetry #next #poem

Dec 6

ogdiddynash

the erosive effect of soul contusions

do not address you with frequency
but here, where I am disguised in
a public facing place, it is easy relief
that recent reversals, have occurred,
contusions upon my self, body, mind,
scattered have combined to cause an

erosion of soul

of course this matters little to you, but
nonetheless will inform anyone’s eyes
who happenstance falls upon this page,
and I am gripped by paralysis. life-by-me-
threatened, and I’m ashamed of myself,
but offer no forgiveness nevertheless

what I value has not changed, but my
core is wilting, eroded by the confluence
of circumstances, aging of time, and no
one to ask for guidance, or support genuine,
I’m soft froze exterior, interiors rocky ice

ask you do nothing. but someday - when?circumstance will circle back, perchance
to this literate plea, that asks for nothing,
posting gone unnoticed, on a bulletin board

I reserve the next three lines to unsatisfactorily not explain, just
to inform, erosions of pieces of me, now gone

in these two lines, a fine of fine will have to
be paid, in a currency of cell’s dying quietly

and here, I,
Ogdiddy,
cease, in every way possible

#ogdiddy

Dec 6

Nat Lipstadt

The Frantic Life

~for you, girl~

words have definitions; shades; moods,
even within the contextual moment,
the coloration sometimes is discolored,

one person frantic is another’s
normal
passing fancy
insanity
quiet
overwrought silliness

frantic is a continuum’s conundrum

and oft the hubbub coverhup lends
a veneer of urgency importance
when knowledge acquisition is iron
irony, best when well chewed, quietly
considered and consumed with the
perspective of addition and subtraction

what we know is more than yesterday,
and less than what we will one day own,

for the only purity of learning is that’s
final refining is never ending
the artifice of deadlines,
gradation vis-a-vis
all the rest, is not a
distinction worthy of
distinguishing

your human value is beyond compare

exactly!
the greatest of valued adders to the world body of understanding put the race of
ego to one side, and so should we all,
not
be ****** in by the imposition of qualifiers

you are quality, and that is the only
qualification you will ever
acquire and require

and in my naïveté
I reflect looking back
and give you here the
free use thereof,
of its worth, you will
determine
but in summary judgement:
always keep thinking
ridicule is ridiculous
but best when applied
by oneself to oneself
with a

“***, did I really think:say that?”
and laugh out loud at our human
foibles, especially our own,
with a wry smile, admitting
some of things we conjure up
in all seriousness are

are the funniest things we’ve ever heard

a bit preachy, but too bad😉
knowledge acquisition

#frantic #life #lipstadt #knowledge #acquisition #self #awareness

Dec 4

William J Donovan

Timeless

Death is the forever
no clocks or never.
No pesky calendar
no future or past
no appointments
no nagging or
disappointments
forever no more.