"industriously" poems
Knit, knit, knit away.
Life unfolds
under the needles’ sway,
creating lovely order,
bit by bit,
and soothing memories form
for you to display.
The neat rows of wool,
that now exist,
allow a whispered hope for
beauty in the mist.
It spurs you on to focus
and industriously look for meaning -
saving dropped stitches
can’t be your reason for being!
But it’s hard to not be entranced
by the sound of click, click, click.
So, though your
search continues,
you still knit, knit, knit.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
In the shadows of the walls
where laughter once reverberated
as a symphony of gleeful bliss,
intonational inclines arise in the dark
as dancing phantoms haunt
the smirking silence which dissipates
from the splotched, upended floorboards,
while midnight footprints breathlessly creak,
cradling the demonizing affirmations whispered,
the very ones I knew would never become true.
We stood by, powerlessly spectating
as the love we once shared
gasped for air, red in the face,
its gushing carotid bulging in desperation,
four lungs incinerating themselves
with imminent anticipation
of the death gleaming
just over the horizon,
its violet hues juxtaposing
with the glimmering night skies
of faded constellations comprising the celestial
as moonlit silhouettes waltzed across the water,
a bright cerulean rippling in our presence,
the genesis of a journey unforeseen.
Brutal acceptance rains from my eyes,
a rumbling river that reigns supreme
over the rounded stones stacked high
as a towering dam of branches and rubble,
leftover waste long forgotten and forlorn;
hometown fantasies of childhood memories
linger longer than our lost loyalty,
liberating me from the rusted chains
you'd stapled into my brittle bones,
a leash tied tightly around my throat
to **** me from my courageous caution
back into the splintered wheel
dictating our selfish agendas,
empty promises of dilapidated affirmations
now turned weary and worn
with this newfound sense of reflection,
a dichotomy depicting time's own passage,
the consequence of a metamorphic resolution
of open wounds blossoming into eroded scars.
Futuristic visions of lesions now mended
seamlessly fuse with renewed self-reception,
your broken promises stitched with the threads
ripped from the capillaries comprising my core,
blood-stained carpet of scarlet and crimson
fading into an aged and weathered maroon,
never truly waning in its acquainted pigment
yet blossoming into a stained fabric
portraying the promises of the past,
of decayed ruins now industriously erected
into a radiant utopia of gallant, rubious valor,
the final product of an unyielding resolve
to have our story rewritten, our own steadfast evolution.
Jan 6, 2024
Jan 6, 2024 at 6:24 PM UTC
like my mind is filled with ideas
my material world is boxed in by things
over capacity knowledge stores on paper pads
and journals by the pound
around me they surround
time capsules prepared industriously on the daily by me
notes and books and handouts and work outs, all strewn about
my mind externally, representing fragment thoughts ideas left whole
thoughts pursued and cast aside and fleshed out to live a life of their own
Ordinary mortals see a cluttered desk, books and papers spilling over this
But it's a furnace of the imagination, taking shape, each item a puzzle piece to be
put together, and torn apart and worked on through the night until it's just right.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
So much knowledge sought, amassed, secured,
like a bee industriously does,
still the question remains:
"Who the hell am I?"
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
.don't get me wrong... poaching a chicken breast, while wrapped in cling-film? a "MAGA" idea... and then frying it? gently? brilliant... first exposing the chicken to a tenderness, and then incubating it by frying it? genius...
while watching Masterchef Australia...
surprise surprise...
imagine my surprise at finding
the monarchical support of the people
of Australia, trailing along with
jests of "speaking the proper
terminology" when addressing "royalty"...
is this some sort of Aztec pyramid
poncy scheme Halloween party?
feathers and ****
no?
sure as **** it looks like one
of those bogus explanations worthy
of the royalty of sycophants of
Pont de l'Alma, "debated" against...
as if Charlie "the ******* Chaplin" Windsor
could brush this / these facts off...
point being...
to my utter bewilderment,
and subsequent surprise...
i never imagined the Australians to be
so monarchical...
stunned as ****
Australians are this much monarchical?
they're so biased, so fervent in their opinions?!
seriously?!
remind me to never visit this...
sub, of whatever constitutes a continent...
i'e sooner visit the Faroe Island
prior to America,
as i'd visit Antarctica before
Australia...
monarchical afterthoughts
that the Australians surprised me
with...
i deemed them rather rebellious...
solemn, industriously counter
to what Britain affirmed /
arranged itself around...
my bad...
i guess it's just a case of:
different **** same cover....
oh... right... ********
same **** different cover;
works both ways anyway.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
*"My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Among the infinite doings of the world,
Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,
It was my folly; if industriously
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Where of the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
By its own visage: if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine."*
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
maybe? the apple of your eye?
the exhaled breath, you held?
a gratuitous golden sigh?
I could be the paint that dried
that you so intently watched
or the grass that is greener
on the other side
except you never jumped the fence
I'm just a skirt you tossed
I wish I was a lone fish
in the bowl of busy life
except wishes are fishes to you
so industriously multiplying
How about,
I'm your wife?
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 4:44 AM UTC
Trump missed a step today. It's sad to see
such gaffs in a political career.
The morn dawned clear and bright. Humidity
had moved out overnight. (Precisely here
was Donald's chance.) Sweet-tweeting sparrows trilled,
bees buzzed industriously. As Nature wept
for joy dew sparkled, zephyrs fresh and mild
wafted the greenery. A sturgeon leaped.
Had Don been up, inspired he could have said:
"Were I your president I'd get my way,
o people of America, instead
of Tuesday I'd declare this Saturday!"
Then even a hard-nosed realist as myself
might vote for such a winning furry elf!
....naahhh :)
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
May nature always remind me of You, O God, whether it’s
Ants scurrying industriously,
Bees pollinating flowers indiscriminately,
Cats luxuriating in the sun lazily,
Dogs romping together enthusiastically,
Elephants trumpeting triumphantly,
Foxes slinking sneakily,
Grapes in my mouth, bursting deliciously,
Hay drying aromatically,
Icicles sparkling brilliantly,
Jaguars pouncing energetically,
Kangaroos carrying young tenderly,
Llamas wearing dinner ties sportingly,
Monkeys screeching gleefully,
Nuts roasting over a fire temptingly,
Opossums pretending death silently,
Pandas chomping on bamboo incessantly,
Quail bursting from cover explosively,
Rabbits multiplying rapidly,
Snakes eating prey irreversibly,
Tigers snarling viciously,
Underwater springs burbling unceasingly,
Vultures circling patiently,
Wasps defending hive notoriously,
X-rays enabling bones to be seen easily,
Yaks chewing placidly, or
Zebras running wild and free, beautifully.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 4:45 AM UTC