"mushrooming" poems
MANY ways to spell good night.
Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes.
They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit.
Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue and then go out.
Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.
Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying in a baritone that crosses lowland cottonfields to a razorback hill.
It is easy to spell good night.
Many ways to spell good night.
3.5k
Overdevelopment in Bali
The Farmers lose valuable water
For use in the hotels
The mushrooming developments have clogged irrigation channels
To rice fields inland,
Often driving them up and driving up the cost of tending the land
The shrinking amount of land available
Has threatened Bali's self-sufficiency in rice
Tourism benefits the economy
But the environment should also be respected
A String of letters
The Height of a man stand in the middle of a lush padi field
They spell, "Not for sale,"
Gede Agus says the words
Are meant to scare off investors
This is his land
He inherited from his ancestors
Development must be halted
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
Tree of proto-monkeys,
brand and banded under Monkey King,
so clever, so adaptive
in substance and doing -
mushrooming in variants:
lemurs, monkeys old and new,
orangutans, gorillas, chimps,
and one big bushy brood
of extincted ***** brothers and you.
Trekking upright into dale,
valleys and over hills too
sore in feet to image
dragging a knuckle or two.
Scavengers making way,
scanning for patterns in
food moving or not,
adaptive doing from fin
to opposable rock.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 6:07 PM UTC
i tried to eat my whole heart raw once.
but i could not stomach it. could not stomach the noxious ventricles down my throat, could not swallow the bollus of unfleshly pink carnage.
so i broke it into pieces and i blamed you instead, because it seemed easier to say you broke me than to say that i ever loved you.
i.
this is how you broke me :
whenever i thought of you ******* her i would think of dying inside.
dying is a blessing.
dying is the movie that i am too young to watch but too old to resist. dying is divinity, it is paradisical death in slow motion, an entity mushrooming in between the eyes of a decaying rabbit. it is tears being ****** back into the eyes of a small girl, legs apart, ***** ripped, the fruitlessness of futility bleeding out like saliva from a mouth. dying is being idle, dying is being able to think without questioning existence, dying is a moth, paled by smoke.
it is that tuesday night i promised myself i would never write again
if all i wrote was about you.
ii.
this is how i broke myself :
whenever i thought of you dying inside her, i would think of *******
******* is a blessing.
******* is the reason an orchid can sing without a stigma. ******* is the malformation of your tongue when you say " i hate myself, because i hate you, but i hate you more. ". ******* is about three blocks away from love. ******* and love are probably secret **** buddies. ******* is saying you love her. ******* is saying you love me. ******* is that heart-shaped bruise that you left on my wrist, that tuesday night you ***** me and called it love. ******* is telling me i am not her.
this disposition of 'her', the realisation she plays a better 'her', than i play 'her', the realisation that she stole 'her' from me, when'her' was a dream both of us could hope to fake.
iii.
why people are kept broken:
you once told me, while ashing out a cigarette on my neck,
"it is better to stay broken so nothing else can ever break you again."
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Some 'others'
and so-and-sos
don't want to be found.
They don't want to be
solid.
They don't want to:
dematerialize or to rematerialize or to manifest.
They don't want to come into being or exist.
Some so-and-sos are vagrant and delinquent.
Truant vagaries of brush strokes
mushrooming in the tresses of dresses.
Indeed, some 'others' wish to remain anonymous.
They reckon it’s reasonable
to protect a human standard.
Their privacy a prison of unwatchfulness-
the walls closing in like they did for Hans Solo,
Chewbacca, and the princess...
like Indiana Jones or some platform pitfall romance.
The 'others' wish to remain alone.
How else would they be 'others'?
Anonymity is the preferred state of 'others'
and so-and-sos.
It is their church confessional.
Safe harbor to their ******
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
There is at all times
A soup boiling
In the plains of the Savannah.
As the wind presses its large and small hands
Into the course straw grass
To smooth the wrinkles-
But also to make more.
And falling slowly, fluxing,
Between the waves—creatures,
All of them strange,
Blending.
And from time to time, a sickening red,
But only for a while,
Until it is swirled once more into the soup,
Or steeping into the earth as tea.
There is sometimes a stacking of skies;
Amber
On top of pink,
On top of blue,
With pyrite flecks-
But not yet indigo.
And one form rises up out of them;
A baobab moving slowly,
Mushrooming monster,
Exploding exponentially outward.
And at its calloused feet
Are porcelain painted zebras
And soft clay elephants,
Who reshape themselves in the gray murk
Of the water hole-
Which is sometimes blue,
And sometimes sheeted mica shimmering.
Watching quietly, the prince.
Who is still,
(But not exempt!)
Unable to be, but becoming.
Exhausted and exhausting,
Around his furrowed face is a mane
Of technicolor flames.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC
It all disappears
replaced by a phantom,
the flickering light of a coal miners lantern casts its shadow along the black halls and it all disappears.
Bevan would spin in his grave knowing his lads could not save what remained of his dream,
and in the lean light of lamplight the nightwatch calls midnight,
and it all disappears.
We were born into a world that exploded with light emitting diodes,and nuclear power,turbines that whine in constant revolution,
a green world, a clean world, a world fit for tomorrow where the future is born from the ashes of sorrow and these tears we would borrow from the seeds that we sow ,
and it all disappears in the fears of the many,of those, who if they had any hope,have it no more,where the door is locked and the bolt is drawn against this brave new dawn,and sometimes it feels like I never was born ,
but created from eggshells and no one tells me that I'm wrong.
Cracked open my breath breaks away, and the inside exposed,peeled like the petals that rose on some bloom,the shrivelling doom, a vast mushrooming cloud,
and it makes me feel proud,
as it all disappears and we all fade away.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Stubble mushrooming his chin
he showed up on the door
without his trademark grin
he looked clearly sore.
He motioned me to sit on a chair
in the room with low watt light
his sullen stare and disheveled hair
said things weren't alright.
I sat in the embarrassing silence
thinking what might be the cause
what lay behind the simmering suspense
why my friend looked so morose.
There wasn't a sound in the whole house
the creepy stillness was deafening
with only the clock ticking sleepy hours
carried the night on its wing.
Sensing something was definitely wrong
gauged from his eyes swollen red
his father I knew was ailing for long
surely he was mourning the dead.
Where's uncle I set words in pace
long time I haven't him heard
making a dispassionate face
he pointed his finger upward.
So proved true my worst fear
the son was mourning the demise
everything was now clear
my shock I couldn’t disguise.
*For you what a terrible blow
so early for him to have gone*
my words poured sad and slow
may his soul rest in heaven.
My friend now spoke in awed face
I couldn’t miss his perturbed glare
*My father is fine God bless
he is only resting upstairs!*
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
.
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
(Sonnet)
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
The jelly-jiggling slop first had to flop
before it could waddle
ashore into this muddle of last gasps
and becoming
where middling deaths swaddled in gauzy breaths
emit a consonant-rich sussuro:
*If you don’t recall the swirl-swept depths
where we furled it,
can you keep that promise in shallows pocketed?*
So we began, and with the begetting
a rosy cloud plumed forth from our two
terraformed lips,
its delicately distinct petals mushrooming out
with a thorn-less, serif-soft voice
to bestow this frothy font of atomic confusion:
*Let the forgetful sea rinse over now-handy fins
to hard-edge etch
their starfish straight lines in a slurp of soggy sand.*
The mothering molecules haven’t lost
their smothering ache to forgive
our thickened skins
and they still cling to us, cooing about a lulled drift
past bye when we’ll climb the thinning links
back to homes cloaked in a sifted light:
*The loves of your heart-filled heads, no matter
how starkly pled,
all waste away to join us in our timeless waiting.*
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 7:56 AM UTC
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
Bridge on fire
Flames noted for their honesty, justice
Given a stoic chance, the element of a sire
Waiting on the God given stir, of heaven to spice?
We walk with ourselves and a name
So allowed, so meticulously reasoned
By the tides of tomorrow, the edges of shame
Will us to life, the self and same, since seasoned
Rain may come, a harrowing guidance to destiny's future
Fortunes of simplicity and chaste, the gall
To step forward, and ask a land in all curiosity
Is a found and timid laugh, our only way to an answer's fall?
Succinctly the embittered path, with a rue
Time mushrooming into secrets and pains where with all
Hello, adding sincere to a bonfire of vanity's, a could
And a shoulder of compassion from here to sight eternal...
But the fire persists, the devotion of silence's choice
In the stir of accept, and where winds know a callous insist
The terror of a failing humanity, with a salt to its fame, if not voice
Where has irony and its conscience been, the eyes of hate we visit?
Little harmony, the stuff of patience and liberty's dreams
Still a hand to hold, when peace becomes a risen sort, to avid lead
Long in the truth to overwhelm a shadow, we all know and seem
Where presence of mind has a lover, somewhere sending a remorse's kiss, to me...
Jul 13, 2022
Jul 13, 2022 at 4:40 AM UTC
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
A cycle of rain and nitrogen
And everything looks a lot like mud
But that's where the stuff grows you know
Where the ancients have fallen
Cause here's a place too sow seeds you see
To spread your wings and fall over and over again
Rest easy
Crash your waves
Flood the sky
Sink into the earth
As here's a place made for no mortal
That's why the sun and stars came to play
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
A whisper
Caressing, touching
More than any flesh could touch.
A web, spun
Of the finest silk
Beautiful, but easily broken.
A gem
Shining bright, if only
It could be brought into the light.
A weapon
Atomic words
Mushrooming to cover a bright day
Then, fallout.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 6:03 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Softly she tread, floating above the clover
Seas. Suddenly lost, bold honey bees forgot
The scent of flowers blooming. Iridescent wings,
Humming birds, monarchs, dragons, flying in
Procession and the mushrooming dew now rising
Began to swell, raining upwards into the mystic
Blue heavens and the trees beyond that clearing
Stood longingly amazed, so green their spying
Gaze, when all the myriad flowers loosely fell
And all the gathering of colours faintly dimmed.
She came upon a meadow, then she undressed;
And when she was naked, the meadow blushed.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
While American and Israeli officials
Clink their champagne glasses and schmooze
At an embassy in Jerusalem,
One thing is barely making the news:
Over one hundred twelve° Palestinians
Have been killed at the Gaza Strip
Since March 30 by Israeli soldiers
Demonstrating their marksmanship.
Over 13,000° have been
Injured, having wounds that consist
Of large, gaping holes in the victims--
Bullet holes the size of a fist.
The bullets shot from high-velocity
Weapons on hitting their target explode
Expanding and mushrooming inside the body.
Israeli cruelty à la mode?
People from all walks of life gathered
To demonstrate and express their frustration
For living conditions in their Gaza prison--
An abominable situation.
Conditions, in fact, are among
The worst that the world has seen.
May 14 was the bloodiest day
Since the strife in twenty fourteen.
Israelis call it "self-defense";
It's really shoot-to-injure or ****
Are snipers keeping track of how many
Palestinian coffins they'll fill?
One uncle never imagined
That he would need a body bag.
He carried home his 8-month old niece
Wrapped in a Palestinian flag.
The people want a place that's home.
But while negotiations stall--
And marginalized by circumstances--
They live inside or outside a wall.
-by Bob B (5-19-18)
°Based on a report by journalist Sharif Abdel Kouddous
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC