"lolloping" poems
I saw a man dancing the other day
His dance was a walk
But it sang as it passed.
His footsteps were balanced
On a tightrope of serenity
It was more graceful than any waltz
Or ballet that I have ever seen.
He looked at me as if to say
Why don't we all dance this way?
As the limbs of life
Come to gather us in
Why don't we feel happy to see them?
He stared through a window of pity
At us
Mere mortals
Still walking in a lolloping fashion.
Yet to discover freedoms tune.
And I looked back
Through a doorway of sadness
Unable to step over the threshold
Constrained by the branches
Of what I have built
In my own efforts to make myself
Happier.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
words.
i just
love
them.
big ones,
little ones.
just love them
they are like
honey on my lips,
poprockz candy to my
brain.
they crackle and fizz:
igniting,
exciting,
vibrating,
reawakening...
synapses too quiescent;
jiggling,
wiggling,
slapping,
trappin,
thoughts....
caught snoozin and napping;
flip flopping
flim flam-ing
photograph
framing...
opinion only halfway dressed;
jitterbuggin,
jiving,
striving
sometimes conniving....
fighting for a voice;
half formed,
brainstormed,
uninformed,
spoken on a baited breathe,
giggle, gaggle,
gobbledegook...
given egress;
hornswoggle,
bing bang boggle,
lolloping through....
galumping,
triumphing,
tree stumping....
both
me
and
yoohoo
too!!!
zip
it,
zinger
coming
on
thru.
my
mind
a
veritable
word
zoo
where i
graze
and nibble
and
nab
a
theasuarus
or
2
.....
words.
i just
love
them.
.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
And in the end right at the very beginning of the next day
In the midth of a thicket, by a lolloping bay
sat in a dextrous room, with a face and hands and other notable human characteristic was indeed a human (subject to prior clues in text)
fumbling, and tumbling, surfing and glaring at a screen. So bright in the darkness of the night, unable to rest those lids that were prayed to droop, have a cup of hollax, have a ****
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
Cherish the days when you are a balloon
held thoughtfully in a child's hand
lolloping along but teathered down
Love the days when you are a balloon
flying free
higher and higher
yet the feeling has leashed you
as you float back to earth
Never Fear the day,
when your balloon pops
. . .
just a pinprick can send you crashing down
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC