"propound" poems
Current events are conducive
with nonchalant seeming pace
When future springs surprises
with time I will learn to face
Cheery is current subsistence
and freewill so far I propound
Confines once start stifling
I may break newer ground
Perceptive mind is still active
infinite inspirations all about
If my illusions start dissipating
new pastures I would scout
Resources are just adequate
for me to earn daily bread
In days of desolate penury
will take what fate’s spread
Traversed I have distances
to seek serenity for my mind
Treks in future if improbable
then peace within I will find
Environs are lush and verdant
their magic for one to behold
As autumn spreads it’s magic
with different shades of gold
Realism is a confusing passage,
through many an abyss and ridge
Each nuance to be vied aptly
while coming to cross any bridge
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
Pulsating honor doth corroded hearts impound
A blustery breeze echoes cries from each, preceding battleground
A recurring, eager parade of reporters, gawkers freely roam distant mound
Below, fatigued, tidy mass of steeled infantry; to death's throes bound
Neighing horses conditioned to mayhem the pageantry doth confound
On opposite ridges, mounted turrets prepared hell's fury to expound
On signal, a synchronized, concussive chorus doth its dark melody propound
Scraps of metal shards initiate; commencing another, toilsome round
After lengthy barrage, wits collected a more lethal volley to stound
Familiar, urgent order to charge christens hallowed ground
With youthful ardor a wide-eyed bugler doth the bridled expanse unbound
Shrieking rancor from recoiling rifles; a familiar anthem doth resound
Recurring cacophonous medley, weathered nerves drowned
Once more, a mass of flesh surges into the abyss with mortal hopes crowned
Anon, shattered limbs; gory wounds misery's cache compound
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 9:59 AM UTC
1327
The Symptom of the Gale—
The Second of Dismay—
Between its Rumor and its Face—
Is almost Revelry—
The Houses firmer root—
The Heavens cannot be found—
The Upper Surfaces of things
Take covert in the Ground—
The Mem’ry of the Sun
Not Any can recall—
Although by Nature’s sterling Watch
So scant an interval—
And when the Noise is caught
And Nature looks around—
“We dreamed it”? She interrogates—
“Good Morning”—We propound?
1.6k
Through this corroding forest,
a thin snake winds soundlessly
between stiff marram grass.
Over time, the constant brackish wind sculpts,
drifts / scaling the metal shanks
shackled to their own shape-shifting shadow.
Steadfast in scorched sand, forty or more as one,
tilt towards the ocean,
reflecting conflict between water and earth.
We are not in tune with their deep veined histories
nor elemental transformation.
We do not propound to understand their language.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2012
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
There is no juice in your meat
No sweet to your thin
No beat in your heart
No wheel on your cart
Little love for your mind
And these missives I have signed
With relish and gusto
Religious ink writing - Irreligious rite inking
Pages full of pelliculous thinking
My pages, filled with the ridiculous
These are my letters to you
Filled with more letters
Held up to the light to cast shadows
And can be seen right through
Guessing thoughts of green giddy meadows,
Of guarded gaffling men,
Of tygers and lyrical zen
My hand had paused and drawn a blank
And you saw that too
When you held up my letters to the light
You read from the cover
Just by my tone
I knew of your other lover
And how I'm made to suffer
How I'm faced with a Hobson's choice
How you've covered up and drowned out my voice
With the moans of your new paramour
With the valiant slew of groans striking to the core
How you've used a hold on my heart
As your bully pulpit
To propound how I need to be fully sculpted
Not the man I am,
I persist,
and I abide,
Not for your amusement and no longer by your side
I feel as if my heart, the conductor, is ablaze with St. Elmo's fire
At my back, a church choir
My funeral,
no,
the inhumation of our consociation.
A pit replete to swell,
on to hell.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
I'm tired of Love lost,
of cookie-cutter me missing you
and all of the ridiculous rhymes that ensue.
More and more I am fed up,
plainly sick of inflated ego's insulated by chosen ignorance
or inborn imbalances,
maybe a history of inbreeding
from a catalyst of parochial need.
You are a parody of mental health
shaping the shifting black and white
to propound cheap love, I feel this as a slight.
Committing any wisp of originality
to become an unconscious marketing ploy,
you're looking for glory in methods unlearned
now butchered, bleeding clichés
to stain pages and pages
with your sullen insecurities.
For that I name you an idiot,
a slavering jowls dripping greedy soul.
Comprehend there is no invalidation of your emotions,
just a damning of self neglect and hidden pride in suffering
all laced with the unspoken demand for my respect.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
Ordinary day, lonesome happening
Quiet as can be, here I sit
In this uneasy office chair, daydreaming
Of what can be, pretending to be
What all I really am, Imagination set aside
Desire catches my eye, Endearment blessing me
On terms anyone could really conceive
What is in a thought, a process which can be deepened
A simple second can change anyone’s life
Whether it be for the better or the worst
Life is what we make of it, use of the proper tool
A lesson to be taught or learnt
Determination of one pure decision
Decisive declaration over biorhythms of allotment
Chronologically prepared to make right
Stepping one foot in front of the other
Tend the watchful eye as it shows you
A golden path through the toughest resolution
Building brick by brick along pastures of purview
Now come to your senses, strike a pose
Propound on this glorious insight
A betterment for which you will carry on forth
Entering the approachable endeavor of life’s greatest mystery
Setting sight upon goals to live by
Be free to understand the lesser of evils
As your mind yearns for enrichment
That of which comes from the power of virtue
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 11:25 AM UTC
DEATH OF MAN
Ayad Gharbawi
BOOK ONE
November 25, 2009 - Damascus
So let me speak now on my thoughts that have been gathered from the years of my experiences and from the years of my thinking.
I have come to many conclusions, in a conclusion of my own life.
Let me talk about every subject that concerns you all.
You think of ‘religion’ – and that word has more than one meaning – and I must say that it is not ‘good news’ as so many religious and evangelical people propound.
I tell you my friendless friends that there is NO good news to speak of – at all. It does not exist. That does not mean to say that religious people are lying to you – no, it is just that they are idiots, that’s all.
Why do I say there’s no ‘good news?’ because life is a pile of broken glass, blood, hysteria, panic, depression, failures and ultimate pointlessness.
Let me start from the beginning.
In the beginning, Man was created and he and she are a truly, unbelievably DESPICABLE entity.
That’s my starting point for Man, his History and his so-called Civilisation.
That is my starting point for WHO Man is today as he interacts and talks with other people.
Don’t trust Man!
Don’t believe in Man!
Remember and remember firmly that Man is fundamentally EVIL and you must act accordingly.
If you trusted Man, then you must pay the price.
Why do you then cry?
Didn’t you guess or understand or fathom who this repulsive entity was and is and will be?
Now IF you can actually comprehend that Man is fundamentally evil, then you should be on the Right Path.
Now when I tell YOU that Man is evil, that means that everyone that is around your existence is EVIL.
Your family are evil; your beloved ‘friends’ are evil, your ‘lovers’ are evil, your children are ultimately going to be evil – and this fact particularly HURTS.
The humans in your job are evil. Basically try to understand that EVERONE in your life is evil and act accordingly.
What do these words mean?
These words mean that when your beloved ‘friends’ speak to you then you must pretend and act that you too ‘like’ them. But within your heart, BEAR NO ILLUSIONS! Your ‘friends’ are nothing more than sickening creatures who will one day stab you in your back.
Remember that when humans ‘talk’ to you they do not understand what and why they speak.
Ask your friend this question, ‘Who exactly are you?’
They ought to answer you honestly, ‘I know NOT myself. My Unknown Self’.
ADMIT you humans that you know not who you are!
Think that perhaps you are NOTHING?
Can you understand that question?
Jew Christian Moslem Buddhist Hindu ------- ‘who’ are ‘you’? What is your Self?
What is your Identity?
How can we – we, who do not know you - RECOGNISE you?
And what if we cannot recognise you precisely because your personality is completely unrecognisable?
What if your Self & your Soul are Unrecognisable?
Do you ever – at any flickers of Time – sense & feel that you yourself are Completely Unrecognizable?
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 6:42 AM UTC
Happy Birthday, Dear Departed Brother
We weren’t awfully close,
You far away in Hollywood,
I, far, far up north in Sweden.
But our soft sibling emotion
Never dwindled, for
We loved each other dearly,
Maybe more than siblings dwelling near,
And so, each wrinkling year,
When February fifteen comes around
(one day post-Valentine)
It’s effortless to love-propound
Through past and present anodyne
What’s lived no more, consigned
To storied history,
A morning, mourning benediction:
Happy Birthday, brother true.
I’ll always miss you
Just a bit,
Whenever I can think of it –
Like at this moment.
Happy Birthday Dear Departed Brother 2.15.2017
Birthday Book;
Arlene Corwin
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
I remember it like yesterday,
my heart stopped dead,
.45 cal laser sighted Glock to my head,
She was a queen with the green,but the heart of Medusa,
ruler of the crew,I was the one to ****** her,
but a snake in the garden,a stone in her heart,
one fake Machiavelli tried to push us apart
Didn't realise the depths of the Celtic connections,
the Queen wasn't with the Skitz just for my ********
she was a foresighted,hard headed a back breakin ruler,
with a wicked last grin for the man who would fool her,
Tools she would use were an Inquisitors nightmare,
to be true to you my new crew,the Sandman was scared,
but prepared for Armageddon on the way-well prepared,
cause the Sandman's backup was a .50 cal long style,
it wasn't me who was facin' the Death Mask Smile
x2 hard rocks,tough guys-those who face death daily,
surround me,propound my senses never fail me,
never know whats comin'- watch your back big style ,
it could be you that faces the Death Mask Smile.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
Decartes's too smart,
Much too profound
With his,
Cogito Ergo Sum:
I think therefore I am.
That's deeper than my toes.
So, I propound
Simplicity.
Read on,
Perhaps you'll agree:
Expirem Ergo Sum:
I die therefore I am.
That's as deep as I go.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
I'm glad that dinosaurs preceded mankind
On earth by millions and millions of years.
We have enough worries these days
Than to find more reasons to add to our fears.
Imagine walking through the forest
And meeting a Tyrannosaurus Rex!
No, tyrannosaurs were NOT
The ones with the long, slender necks.
The tyrannosaur was a killing machine--
A carnivore, frightening and vicious,
Possessing powerful legs and teeth.
It would find you delightfully delicious!
Raptors, from the Mesozoic Era,
Were also among the most feared of their day.
On each hind foot they had a large claw
For killing and disemboweling their prey.
Small but deadly they were, and what's more:
Their brains were of larger than average size.
A nightly stroll in a raptor area
Is NOT something that I would advise.
The long-necked one was the Brachiosaurus--
Not much smarter than the leaves it ate.
It measured 85 feet long
And weighed 40 tons--a LOT of weight!
You think, What fun: to slide down its neck!
If I were you I'd forget that idea.
If, perchance, it stomped on you,
You'd be as flat as a flour tortilla.
The spiked, plated dinosaur
Was the Stegosaurus--a plant-eater, too.
It didn't have a very big brain
And didn't last long. So, what's one to do?
There were thousands of species of dinosaurs.
We're lucky that they exist no more.
You wouldn't want to worry about danger
Every time you walked out your door.
But wait, that's no different from now!
Maybe one difference; let me propound it:
You wouldn't be STEPPING on dinosaur ****
But you would be making long treks around it.
- by Bob B
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 8:35 AM UTC
The kindness in the tides:
a lie
We drowned before we swam
Things that wash up on the sand
Now perfectly brown
and bland
While the same sand in timeglasses
Squabbles over which was last
or fastest
The earth divorces
Down main roads and golf courses
Leaving trees and tees and work forces
To decide custody and resources
Mud slides, fires, floods
Wars, bloodshed and more shed blood
We breath and undo the work of her trees
Pollute the air further and curse the disease
Build up, drill down
Stitch flags, forge crowns
Blast off, touch down
And wonder why the moon frowns
She will take all of us back
Piece by person by piece
In thise messy Natural attacks
To reclaim the beast of her autonomy back
Gravity languid but abound
We are tethered to the ground
And so too the fate She will propound
Indeed we are indebted
Regret it
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
As I gently close my eyes and descend into a dream
Floating between the flux of the surreal and the true
A sense of exhilaration grips me for as it may seem
What lays ahead shall definitely be new
My mind wanders in fantasy with renewed excitement and hope
Scouring all the elements to see what they hold for me
But in fact it was fate that was giving me enough rope
As things unfold in this reverie and all that I am about to see
My pent up emotions take vivid forms in many a vicarious life
At times I become the lord of the skies with all at my mercy
Seldom I am tormented by demons of past and in a strife
I flout all norms and summon foolish courage to propound a heresy
Every now and then I build a world around me filled with desire
Only to alter them time and again in the chain of events to come
Deep down I know that this was not a true play of events but only a satire
Still I was strangely happy when things went my way but was sad at some
The ruffled feathers of time meander in the mist
I pick and choose a few only to discard the rest
When plans go awry and fate gives it a cruel twist
All along probing me to think that perhaps this is for my best
Sometimes I did well for mankind; the altruism bordering cloy
But mostly the thoughts were centered around my well being
When I get what I crave, I am filled to the brim with joy
But when I am hurt isn’t it odd that I don’t feel a thing
Though I have crafted the dream and I remain its architect
I strangely have no control in steering it or how it may unfold
When I achieved what I desired for I sublimely felt perfect
Aghast I was when aspirations shattered and feared for what else it may hold
The eyes open and now awake, it is from this magical spell that I flee
Drawn into this real world that has a sullen gleam
For even if illusions they were and illusions they shall be
I know that finally I shall immerse into a never ending dream
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
N onsensical enigmas form a queue
O ntogenies where time is in reverse
T wo sides to everything but why so few?
H istoric catalogue of multiverse
I nfinity that's frozen on the spot
N o change of entropy if all were still
G reen engines which produce but don't get hot
P recise, deterministic style free-will
A spatially dimensionless time-zone
R eligions with the freedom to evolve
A lthough I have to own I have my own-
D ogmatic attitudes I'll not devolve
O ne hopes someday to hear someone propound
X marks the spot where everything is found.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC