During the harvest of hearts
Budding fruit of desire
What is rooted deep
Will reap to admire
I don't know where I got inspiration for this one from. I just liked the sound of the title. Alliteration ftw!
It was a weary afternoon.
The sky was drowned with angry clouds,
The ambience, drenched in strokes of blue
For the sun was in hiding like it had a flu.
"The earth must share in our agony"
I thought to my self as I stared at the skyline
Which not so surprisingly was visible:
There was hardly anyone within sight,
The regularly buzzing village square
Was doused in a silent melancholic tune
The memories of our sons and fathers
Danced to with reckless abandon.
It was a grand fest of pain and sorrow.
Every turn, every corner was painted red.
The air reeked of bravery and courage,
The valiant heroism of the weak.
A little girl shouted from a distance.
Everyone rushed out hurridley
To behold for themselves this miracle
"The gods have heard our prayers"
Mama Iyat shouted dramatically,
As she started to do a dance.
The gods are mourning for the souls lost,
Weeping for what the senseless war had cost
This is the sacrifice we make
Having to throw ourselves into each others arms
When we know nothing of my insecurities
My fear of non-commitment from you
Your perfect calm nature
I have only doubts in my mind
Making what we have feel lonely
You don't seem to tell me everything
Although I know patience is the key
Only time will tell with these things
I have only one request
Tell me the truth
It was just a
“Nice to meet you”
But for once it felt genuine
It was just a
“Came for a quick hello”
But I thought it made me something
Now you’re trying on
“Good night baby”
Like I keep trying on dresses you’ll like
This isn't all! Read the full poem here:
Gray on gray
the colors I see
I try not
In time this
pallet will fade
for the first
© Michael Lechner
There is a little boy kneeling in a chair playing with a toy tractor.
It keeps falling off the table
(Or he pushes it off)
Then he runs to pick it up and place it back on the table.
There is a diaper on the table.
(Which he also threw on the floor)
A baby has been placed at the table.
When asked the babys name, the little boy says:
I think that is an awesome name.
I wonder if when that baby grows up he will be emotionally unresponsive.
Charming player of a Dog
I won't follow these boys around their whole lives but assuming he is.
That little boy is a prophet.
So i'm watching the Prophet and Robo Dog
Throw things off the table and giggle.
Thinking about how simple
Pleasure can be for a child.
How intricate it can be for an adult.
When Prophet commands his Grammy to eat her bagel.
I cannot see them any more
They are sitting behind me in a booth
But I can only imagine she obliged
Or lifted to her mouth and pretended
I like to imagine this is Prophet and Robo Dogs first encounter with false truth.
But it looks like Prophet has a couple years of Holidays on Robo Dog
So that isn't quite true.
pursed and ready,
meeting the threshold
opening with elegance,
breaking from tight enclosure.
a fragrant, companionate aroma,
inviting, an unfoldment,
spreads of flourish;
in bowing stem.
petal by petal.
open and shedding;
teaching the natural
art of being;
b l o o m
— The End —