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Kennedy  Sep 16
Particles
Kennedy Sep 16
Light seeps through the
Window cadences of rhythm
Like a heartbeat
Of true intentions
Misconceptions dodge the soul
Dust particles pass my face
Proving I’m still alive
Somewhere inside
This shell

At night my astrolabe
Can not contain the measures
Of uneasiness and skepticism arising
In this government induced anxiety
©
Brother Jimmy  Feb 2018
Cadence
Brother Jimmy Feb 2018
Open your eyes
Stop the noise
Feet on the floor
Jiggle the boys
 
Make the coffee
Let out the dog
Get to the office
Sort through the slog
 
Check the balance
File your forms
Get through the BS
Normative norms

Daily you’ll question
In the back of your mind
Why you feel this way
Most of the time
 
Maybe it’s your fault?
Are you to blame?
Guilt is a sharp tool
(More of the same)
 
Let it surround you
Give in to this
Current sit’ch’ation
Right where it is
 
Be in the moment
It’s better than some
And with atonement
Contentment will come
 
Remember amigo,
You will never tell
The story of days
Of everything’s swell
 
You’ll have a good story
When crisis has passed
And all of the drama
You’ll note till your last
 
With a smile and a twinkle
In an eye clouded up
You’ll fondly remember
How you drank from that cup
 
And still made it through
To your now wizened state
And maybe someone
Will be thrilled you relate
Kerli Tulva  Oct 2018
Cadence
Kerli Tulva Oct 2018
The feeling has not eluded yet
the rain not ceased or silenced
still you say somewhere far
that music, it engulfs it all.

In the bright nigh of spring
while all the flowers whisper
and water streams of happiness
life here is never meaningless.

The songs of birds and trees
the sound of pure liveliness
and you murmur, it recedes
when the music of heart bleeds.
“Mystic readers of the stars,
In Land of Sleeping’s language versed,
Consult the tales, those stories –old.
And tell us, is the maiden sold?”


“Climb the tower, the fire pieces,
Traverse the heavens, assign the path,
Until the maze of tomes thus ceases…
And mystery lost to art of math.”

This is a re-write of two verses from two different pages of the Tales of Miletus done in such a way as to capture a modern interpretation of the meaning being implied in the ancient version.

The Tower of Babel is translated in Sumerian as the, "tower," of the, "falling fires." It literally means the stars in a cylinder(tower) of the circular nature of the heavens.

Before man invented chalkboards he had sand but long before writing he had a nightly revolving teaching tool called the stars. Each star constellation contains modern letters. One contains half the alphabet and happens to visible to most of the planet year round.
Rose Mar 1
There is a yellow tint to this scene
A golden bronze to this touch
I so desperately want to know
if you see it too

If my mind is stretching too far
stop me before I fall off the edge

But if you see these hands as
a God bearing gift
Take them and show me their worth
But if we keep sitting here in this stale water
I will grow old and prune in this filth
to men: do something, or else we will leave. because I am a woman who deserves more. a man should see me across the room and want to know me. and after finding out who i am; should want to be with me. if not, then i will leave for i have waited long enough for a man who sees me.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
The first thing I saw early this morning
When I pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of my garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did my screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2018
A steady cadence  
pulsing in a heart beat
like rhythm, voices
and strummed instruments
all in harmonized concert,
An orchestral multitude,
of frogs and crickets,
never tiring or ceasing,

How many must there be,
to render such a cacophony?
Sustained and loud enough
to keep city folk awake.

Nature's Music of the night,
should you but choose to listen.
How do they do that, all night
with absolutely no intermission?

A crescendo finale triggered
only by the coming dawn's
first light, and the boastful
crowing calls of our cocky
persistent red rooster chicken.

Where these musicians go in
daylight is anybody's guess.
To sleep I suspect, deserved
resting up for yet another
night of endless music.
Another value added feature
of living out in the country. Night
voices lulling me to sleep outside
my open window/screen.
CK Baker  May 2017
Flowerfields
CK Baker May 2017
like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after)
with a nauseating hack
the previously uneventful Tuesday
derailed
in surrealistic tale
with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate)
in the 748
on a night flight
from Sherwood to Lore

reverberating waves
of imminent summer haze
river flats
and flower fields
fly weights
and silver bait
shredders and shysters
and open gates
(into those everlasting
and sweated journeys of hope)

bloods and strays
and florentine grays
(reminiscent of Rockwell fame)
running horses
and overgrown country lanes
morning grace
and gentle cheer
eyes clear
on the river pass
blunted paddles for those ancient
and not so willing suckers!


duke making his own way
(to the corner club)
Parsons and Poe
stream from the torn screen door
cricket cadence
and symphony of the Deere
calm and deliberate
in the soft
and silent fields

meadows open for grazing
(guineas scamper across the till)
pocket apples fill
the country ripe air
drunken bees
and chestnuts
and electric fingers
strike the surface pool
(a cedar strip wedged on the white wash dock)

baited bull heads set to cast
evenings with hearts
and Nolten Nash
may flowers bloom
across the grass
~ time unmatched ~
with blue jays
and river bends
and channel cats
...and that warm
and recurring
Coleman drift
Qweyku  Aug 2018
Oceans Speak
Qweyku Aug 2018
drenched in a sea of waveforms,
dancing on the ebb of a digital ocean
its crests crowned with sound

pitched upon amplitude tides      
their volume compressed;
reverberating through glass speakers
mere dots in the sands

i hear cadence...
within the music of your speech
how can it be such a many word
written, yet forgotten,
indelibly on your beach?

if we could interpret the oceans
what stories would its sea speak?
of its corruption?
treasures unreturned
to lost and found?
or of its time to give up the dead,
or of the angels that fell to its ground?


© Qwey.ku
Have I told you of how I love the sea?
A duplicitous temptress.
choosing to drown or carry you afloat.
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