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Poetoftheway May 2020
~for VB~

<>

“A child said What is the grass?
fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?
I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition,
out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners,
that we may see and remark,
and say Whose?”

Song of Myself (1892 version) BY WALT WHITMAN

                                                §§§

­there is special delight for the city dweller,
when the first clean flushing of brightest spring green
disrupts the unending graying city ribs of worn concrete,
the alternating lifelessness of blasé brick, pretending
off-beige, ***** pale blue, a sooty furnace red,
well done,  a good pretense that they are, of color.

I am among thousands whose as a child my breath
gave way, taken by gasp, when first made
entrance to the green diamond sparkle oasis of
Yankee Stadium, hid by the urban dreariness of The Bronx,
near sixty years vision sustained with perfect clarity on
retina-implanted, a shock, an earthly con-trast.

today, an old-timer, a first timer, I’m gifted Whitman’s Song of Myself,
from a friend and poet, who lives hardy by a Port,
another islander like myself, surrounded by wet roads and
pathways to the Northern Pacific, amongst timberlands of
forested and natured grass, a differing kind of stadium,
both of us silently saying, thanks Lord, for lending us yours.

even temporarily, this day, your emeralding grass handkerchief,
equates our dispositions, so differently identical,
your name, our initials, in opposing corners, embroidered,
your grass tapestry upon this troubled earth, a scented, joint, poetic
remembrance, that though it’s but words that bind us, we! we know!
the songs we sing of ourselves, we sing in synchrony harmony.


                                                   §§§§§


Wed. May 13, 2020
Manhattan Island,
by the East River
MaxiM May 2020
In these Times.

We seek shelter,
in quick haste,
& Helter-skelter,
to curb fate,
One of our many endless mistakes.

In these Times.

With no knowledge or whim,
we inflict panic & pain tearing limb from limb,
With no knowledge of what is right or wrong,
what is known is now the time to be strong,
We are at war.

In these Times.

Survival of the fittest is,
survival of the richest,
Which is the nth percentile,
while the ninety-nine populate the pile,
They are brandished in likes, whispers and smiles.
MournaraMiedema May 2020
Losing faith is fun.
It makes me want to dance with you.
And use rubber tubes as straws.
And just drink water.
Cause nothing feeds me actually.
The combination of you and Cocorosie is so good.
And everything else is so bad.
And we're smiling as we're hawling.
You made fun of everything when I told you everything went wrong.
Oh, I love you so much.
Even when you don't stop talking and my head explodes.
No wait, I hate you then.
Whatever….
Losing everything is fun.
07-05-20
Darsh Parekh May 2020
Never seen someone like you,
I don’t know whether I will ever see someone like you,
Never been so mad about you,
I dont know what’s the reason which drives me mad about you.

Never seen someone as adorable as you,
I don’t know it might be whenever I see into your eyes,
Never seen someone as cute as you,
I don’t know it might be whenever I see your smile.

Never been so caring ever before,
I don’t know if it is my concern or my love towards you,
Never been so exited ever before,
I don’t know if this is excitement or my happiness whenever a thought appears of you.

Never seen someone as notorious as you,
I dont know might be the inner kid within me whenever you are with me,
Never seen someone as matured as you,
I don’t know might be you have learnt to handle me.
                 -Darsh Parekh
blushing prince May 2020
a sink with broken eggshells at the bottom
skin turning flush red from the inside goo
always making you itch
because everything is so nervous
if it wasn't there would be no purpose
no jackknifing or tossing
no thrashing or abrasive arm wrestling
to feel a stillness inside your stomach
like an eye of a storm
patiently smug
because  the turbulence is never
in
only around

the debris will never hit your cornea
no splintered pupil
always wanna be tender
but I think brave is best
Rhiannon Apr 2020
To comprehend the idea of freedom,
Thrown around me in retort,
Goes along the path of reason,
The very thing that I was taught.

Unbeknownst to me this beginning,
Built up of loss and flames,
Brings me courage to carry on winning,
Lifes ever changing games.

I bring you chance of please and pardon,
A route not yet walked by,
Snakes slither round you in this garden,
But you do not flinch or cry.

From broken bones and desperate illusions,
To a place to rest and drink,
We open our minds to other conclusions,
The worlds bigger than we think.
Kartikay sangal Apr 2020
I can't afford getting ignored
What I wish already drowned
I can't watch myself alone
I want as we were before
I can't see you losing your interest
It's better let's follow the truth
I can't even accept the reality
It will became painfully deadliest forever
#I#am#ready#with#whatever#you#do
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