#sprung
the spring gets tighter
as your pen lays discarded
soaking up the cosmos
is never impersonal
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 7:07 AM UTC
I THINK I AM SPRUNG!!!
I can't get you out of my head
You have awokened my soul,
The other guys were just dead!!
I feel an ELECTRIC CHARGE
Running all over me,
Is this really true Love???
Could this feeling really be???
I can't understand it
It feels so very real
It so electrifying
I can't help but to feel
I feel light on my feet
That i could touch the sky
Just soar in the heavens
As if I could just fly,
If you know what I mean,
It's like a dream coming true,
I can't help how I feel,
Of being SPRUNG over you!!!!
B.R.
Date: 11/16/2025
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 9:39 PM UTC
Being one, with knowledge use granted,
All in, past the point of no return
that part went on HelloPoetry.com.
passed a 504 in one try… press free
Thus, as part two, partdejavu part
icipation part you part one reader
already reading thinking, is this real,
or is it impressionistic art acting out?
I said it in public, you can say it again,
yes, we can, and do, just get along,
when truth is the equivalent to God
otherwise impatience possesses your soul
who can offer wisdom, in return
for attention paid to God's form, Truth?
We sieve, we sort, we cogitate, belief.
We make up our own minds, we think,
Will is good for using when choosing,
breathe or die… but nothing so extreme,
dream or die, is animated probably socially
awake we interpret memories of dreams,
not those dream experiences we use,
awake
in musings
at our rocking chair stage
you can read, or translate my ideas
James 3:17
fit attentively
to words ready seeded aspirations
in my cogitations held up, home grown
in true state, meaning what we agree.
Just you, and just me, used to think,
inbetween being me or you, in spirit,
and truth. An inner true intel assistant
voice, Jiminy Cricket, con scientia sophia
That which ags me on, drives agitation
mental turmoil launching catch phraze
what the
blank, missing minutes from Watergate,
back when America was
at war
against the godless communists Nixon
had revealed when he prosecuted Hiss…
is that not poetic, Nixon Hiss, hoo rah
true knowing has it all, why and how.
Humans can pause,
and think, how does this make sense?
Scattered memes. Nixon, hiss.
I like Ike, leads inevitably
as a man thinks in his heart, so he is.
Raw wild
thought mixing my own best interests
with your right thinking currently in flux.
What's it worth if I know what has happened
here, today, where I retired after a life
on an experimental psychology grant
expired.
Leaving us another daily dalliance,
amateur old guy
with his own AI, since
around the time we all went through, since
when did ever start where you are?
Well. First mind said 2016.
Next mind asks
why, first… literal means
to the letter, let's attempt realization
we mean we who happen someday to leave
re and ag and be as true metaphorical words,
magically modifying labeled things memorized,
since whenever ever got
to be ever before now,
in this ever we exist
in as merely rethinkable, not
heresy,
actually, unless you declare you know better,
and thereby prove… what a right
to say you know is…
worth in terms of freetime spent just thinking,
honed most points, persisted in proving wise,
is it peaceable, can real life work
by good intentions sown is some kinda mind
we activate on old alligiance frames never finished,
the art of any deal is no secret, cui bono, asked,
finishes any argument
with a person
under a MAGA hat
finishes, doesn't win,
all arguments entering any MAGA hat,
actually stem from Truth Social,
what a symbolic
Brand Trump Truth Social
label, Confucious looks across ever
at us, wisdom begins at lables
on things
peaceable,
easily entreatable
Do we beg forgiveness
for puns,
for any known
reason? We claim none intended, like
no offence but those are idle words, without
reason, support Trump for Christ's sake, is
I think
an oxymoron
and this is fact checking:
oxymoron(n.)
in rhetoric, "a figure conjoining words or terms apparently contradictory so as to give point to the statement or expression," 1650s, from Greek oxymōron, noun use of neuter of oxymōros (adj.) "pointedly foolish," from oxys "sharp, pointed" (from PIE root *ak- "be sharp, rise (out) to a point, pierce") + mōros "stupid" (see ***** The word itself is an illustration of the thing. Now often used loosely to mean "contradiction in terms." Related: Oxymoronic.
From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=oxymoron>
apagoge works kinda like that, too.
And yes, Godot is god ot, that, too is theatrically true.
And good old boys
capable of discerning corn from rye
recollect when somebody thought the music died.
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 6:31 PM UTC
Spring has finally begun,
White cherry blossoms have sprung.
They pepper the sky,
Like candy cane on a high.
My vocals in delight reached out and sung!
Aug 31, 2024
Aug 31, 2024 at 5:33 PM UTC
do you really really know yourself
do you really let it unfold itself
or do you jump the gun
spring and sprung
one and done
love struck
do you really truly know yourself
do you really uphold yourself
or do you pick apart
dissect or repent
hate or peace
love struck
again
oh
May 20, 2022
May 20, 2022 at 11:38 AM UTC
Shades of bitter and brittle
Frozen through
In deepening shades of blue
Where away from the powder you see very little
Then at once the melting of frustration
Getting ready for the allium invasion
The pale minty expanse
As blades are sprung
In what has begun
The rays and the petals slowly dance
Then comes the warming of inspiration
Getting ready for the allium invasion
The lavender and lilac beckons
As star stained skies spin
To the blossoming world we are in
Mornings first rays will reckon
Then the joyous of infestations
The dandelions are tourists watching the allium invasion
The cold flames shall fall
Upon once green lands
Soon to be choked by winter’s strong hands
Then we can fondly recall
How we long for the perennial celebration
Dreaming of the next allium invasion.
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 5:05 PM UTC
Myth
by Michael R. Burch
Here the recalcitrant wind
sighs with grievance and remorse
over fields of wayward gorse
and thistle-throttled lanes.
And she is the myth of the scythed wheat
hewn and sighing, complete,
waiting, lain in a low sheaf—
full of faith, full of grief.
Here the immaculate dawn
requires belief of the leafed earth
and she is the myth of the mown grain—
golden and humble in all its weary worth.
I believe I wrote the first version of this poem toward the end of my senior year of high school, around age 18 in late 1976. To my recollection this is my only poem directly influenced by the “sprung rhythm” of Dylan Thomas (moreso than that of Gerard Manley Hopkins). But I was not happy with the fourth line and put the poem aside for more than 20 years, until 1998, when I revised it. But I was still not happy with the fourth line, so I put it aside and revised it again in 2020, nearly half a century after originally writing the poem! Keywords/Tags: sprung, rhythm, myth, gorse, thistles, wheat, mown, grain, sheaf, faith, grief, golden, humble
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 5:21 AM UTC
The birds are chirping
It's a new day
Snowbanks are melting
Summer's on the way!
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 7:01 AM UTC
Sprung
The way you carry yourself
Happens to put a smile on my face
The way you smile
Happens to make me blush
The way you talk
Happens to motivate me
The way you walk
Happens to make me admire you
The way you dress
Happens to impress me
The way you laugh
Happens to bring tears of joy
But for some reason
I can’t seem to break through this wall…
All because I think
I’m sprung off of you
So nameless person you know
Who you are
Just stop playing games
And make the right decision because
People like me don’t last very long
They happen to disappear
Leaving you with regrets and you questioning
Yourself with buts, ifs, and whys
So it’s your decision
While…
I’m still sprung off of you
By Zyanneh Frazier
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Who am I?
Why do I feel this hurt
When I've been there
Where heaven only knows
What compels me, return.
How do I feel this hurt
When I purposefully
Buried it under the hole
From which it sprung
I don't want to let low
My other half
Please come back to me
Please make me safe again
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
I don't know what it is,
But something's missing
Something's missing from me
And I think that's you.
I feel like a defective doll
One that won't operate without being tuned
One that won't laugh
Without unless you put in a battery
I'm like a mute that won't sing
Unless given a tune.
And that tune, and that battery,
They're you.
And I miss the day we spent basically the whole day together
I miss your presence
& I can't help but feeling
Defective without you.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
It is here,
The snow is staring to thaw;
The birds sing and cheer.
The vines are growing the honey is raw,
Everything becomes unfrozen; the river, the lake.
Animals of all sizes come peeking out,
The squirrel, the bird, the snake.
Finally it has ended this freezing cold drought.
The winter was hard, cold, and ugly
Fevers and chills will disperse,
Now it is time for a new season to hold the key,
Mother Nature has opened her purse.
No rain, no clouds, only sun;
Sweet smells of flowers in bloom,
Now winter is done,
It slips away till next year inside of its cold tomb.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
iMMa Love You
Till The Day They Make Me Leave You.
They Don't Know Your My Soul & i
Need You.
I Know iTs Wrong, But iT Feels So Right.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC