Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?

Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?

Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction

deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.

Whitewashed walls
Spotless sinks
Air is still like a fear to speak.
Faultless floors
Gleaming glass
Shoes off at the door so to pass.
Absent animals
Dazzling decor
Thought begs "What is this place used for?"
Immaculate interior
Luminous light
But to where will my humanity hide?

People plan to partake in 
pondering this painful piece
of the Ponderer's ponderings.

These pathetic pain filled people
presume that
pondering the Ponderer's ponderings
is perfectly practical in practically every peaceful way.

But presently,
the Ponderer's particularly pondering ponderings
are perniciously precarious in every perilous way.

Thus, to ponder the Ponderer's pondering ponderings
is not particularly practical,
but instead pertain
to perniciously painful parts of precarious nature

Winds whip wildly
Cold completely caresses
Fire flees from
Sight swiftly smoldering
Ashes arrive abruptly
Death deals discretely
People plea profusely
“God! Give grace!”
Lacking love, lamenting
Rage, riot, refusal
To try tediously
Being bold believers

I never expected to fall back in.
I suppose jumping is the real word, because I've always been a headfirst without thinking kind of girl.
I've always called it fearless, the words forever tattooed into my ribs, scar tissue raising so that his hands graze it when they touch me,
But oh dear God am I terrified as I make room for my things in his closet
Take a breath and store my makeup under his sink.
This is the first time in forever I can say that I wish I wasn't jumping headfirst.
I am frightened I am falling, forever the fearless female
Now a pile of lovesick mess on the living room floor I share.

At twilight
I walk down the path through the woods
Carpeted in autumn's nocturnal harvest.
The guiding porch light,
Feebler than the fluttering fire flies, fades.
Smell of fresh decay seduces my will.
Desires that have forever resided in the unattainable future
Now like long parted friends sit around with welcoming smiles.
Curious to commingle with Contentment
I feel the Autumn seep into the woods,
And the woods into my heart.

Never before,  
A weary traveller lost upon
The tortuous timber trail
Felt more at peace.
Wishing to curl up in the cold warmth of the golden fleece.  
The woods will the wind to wrap him in wool of the willow
and tuck him amongst the exposed roots.

An unmarked clock ticks somewhere.
Here the eternal present prevails,
Concealed from the eye of the arrow ,
In the stretch of this malleable moment.
I, in the knowledge that my estranged self
Rests in me, am whole again.
At twilight.

Withering willows wave in the night.
Neko nearly snarled at my sight.
Sneaky sister sitting on the floor.
Fearsome fellow fiends rap on the door.

Midnight moon marvels at this lay.
Leering lovely loonies come to play.
Parting parties parade o'er the hill.
Happy Halloween heap-up your fill.

Wondrous whirling worlds of words
Wander away.
Smooth musical tunes from the Muses melt my mind
And make my heart go boom.

Sunny sylvan scenes ****** my soul.
In a simmering silence
Broken only
By birdsong.

It starts with simple wordplay,
Toying with those letters
Until some magic kicks in.

Visions of versified viewscapes
Mess with my head.
Eureka moments marching across the mountains
Of my brain like screaming Banshees.

So thus a poem is born
From seemingly idle play.
Those words are worked again
And posted here
To brighten the reader’s day.

Paul Butters

There are secrets
In her stares.
Or am I just seeing things?
Her smiles stream
Like sunlight
And she speaks
In songs
That spin circles
In my head.
I can't stop thinking
That when anyone
Sees those eyes,
We're all reduced to
Single streams of light
Streaking through
Steep shadows
Cast in her mystery,
Suitors left swooning
Over stolen second glances.
We're stargazers.
Sublunary spectators.
Secret seekers.