"shanghai" poems
Hello Chicago
Flat carpet-town of corn meal
steel spears at the northern junction
of Cahokia and some unknown dream
No lillies grow here sir,
no tulip fields
though there are many Dutch
a little up north
Wisconsin, dontcha' know?
Family blood rains through the Chicago river
named of the blood of a slain tribal wonder
wanders
with the roaming buffalo
I sat at the top of Sears
(Willis)
Tower and peered into the foggy distance
and made out the shores of Michigan
through Indiana
the leftover rains of a continental freeze
churned the earth to butter and carved the arteries
and bowels
of today's earthly body
And when we drove in from O'Hare
in the late hours on incessant stoplight highways
counting down the streets
thinking maybe they'll go all the way to
Mississippi
just a long row of
Concrete
I saw the brick tower
of a decrepit Frito-lay plant
where they cooked their corn and potato
into succulent
can't eat just one
little snacks
for the whole of america
to enjoy in backyard barbecues
and convenience stores
and grocery outlets
All across the planet
Now with the trucks they come and go
up to and whizzing past Chicago
on to greener states with greater relief
with hills and lakes and winding streams
Different sections of the sculpture
Cities eroding into the pleasant coasts
quaking and breaking into tiny stones
a monumental David
cracked in the gallery
bird **** corroding the silicates
unpolished and immortal
words
Chicago!
oh you mighty city you
built from sod and sweat and dew
of new morning
I see your towers
you dreamer, you
But your towers are in Dubai,
and Shanghai
now
The world moved on
and forgot everything about
that magnificent mile
burned to make you earn
new toys and fancy things
from far beyond your winding river streams
But you didn't die
amazing, how much they tried
to rust you out
to bleed you dry
no,
Chicago,
you keep your ***** rivers flowing
all the way to the Mississippi
flanked by modern Roman concrete
all the way to the great green sea
out into the puddle that surronds
the Amerigo
Chicago
don't you give up that river dream
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
From the humblest of beginnings
Began a tough innings
A family deprived
His dad had died
So to work he went
To help pay the rent
From a teen to a man
In a short time span
He had many a job
Hard earned each “bob”
He was a keeper of bees
He picked beans and peas
With marbles and shanghai
He had a keen eye
So rabbits he’d stalk
Their pelts he sought
A butcher and baker
And fence post maker
A fisherman and fruiterer
And even spud picker
A shearer of great ability
Those shears he clicked with agility
From morn to night
He worked hard alright
Met a girl and made her his wife
Ten children now blessed his life
He provided as best he could
Forever working for their good
A large family and so little money
Life, of course, was not always sunny
Simply he lived, simple his dwelling
The trials he faced so very compelling
A ****** awful thing was done
A terrible tragedy stole his son
With grief immeasurable and untold
He held together; staying controlled
Children struggled to forgive their mother
As she left him and found another
Yet for her he would always stand
Always hoping to win back her hand
Another tragedy claimed a limb
We thought it would be the death of him
His work, his wife, his health now gone
Yet silently, painfully he continued on
We knew his heart was terribly broken
Yet always forgiveness he had spoken
We knew he lived with daily pain
But silent and strong he would remain
His strength and courage was beyond belief
But for him there would be no relief
His children were now all grown
He died, one night … alone
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC
Maid in China
she was my ayi in Shanghai
a diminutive young lady with a beautiful smile
tough as nails though small and shy
everyday she would walk a dusty mile
to cook and clean at my whim
and bathe my tense body of beaded sweat
after working out at the private gym
her mastery of sponge I would never forget
her soft hands and pale skin a visual treat
her dark hair and eyes that glitter like an Asian moon
large Persian towel there to dry my feet
offering me a taste without the use of spoon
she was my maid but more my lover
though her duties she refused to dash
she had pride like no one other
her naked body shown thru undone sash
I sweep her up and take her in my arms
carry her to my bed of silken sheets
for hours I avail myself of her charms
with rice wine and candied sweets
her kisses sweet and always select
the beauty of her warm wet ******
she knew the ways to keep me *****
she was my perfect maid in China
Gomer LePoet....
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
you see through me
and I through you
and father, too
has always been that way
the limits of my sight
being cradled in the Shanghai night
when
outside, teeming masses flowed through
the black wet shine of asphalt
like ants en route to the mound they cannot see
…while you and father created me
after,
with the curtains tipping on the sill
and the warm wind calling
but not knowing your names
he blew smoke into the Asian night
while you watched the grey placentate plumes
swirl sweetly to the stained ceiling
adorning its placid plaster with mystic memories
and the forbidden scents I will never smell
for you and he would never tell
what rhythmic rhymes you made
with the masses plodding along
oblivious to your milky movements
while they stirred in another darkness
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 2:49 PM UTC
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams.
bullets twitch, junk sick
in 3 inch thick
mustard ****
toe nails clipped from yeti
lay strewn about the **** stained corpse
of a motel six dixie cup -
root canal trophy,
next to
a black fez
with scab tassel
upended.
down in it. belching apnea
propaganda
and belladonna
waiting for curious george
to find a shotgun
and a yellow
hat
and a brick banana.
blowflies inhale the rank damp
of a fresh ****
the odd dog whines
like a clown in -
a blender.
[ the ]
house wins
with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers
into acned rosacea
bloated with sleep lack
and mortgage
back stab
chasing twenty ******
with a hollow point
pull from an acid
flask
while hailing a black cab.
tinsel sutures
stitch eyelids as a mercy
shattered bone knit
hand-grenade
cozies
old glory, at half mast
half wasted
fifty stars, no light
dragging on
the grounds of immunity
to do a line
of coke stock
with a basset hounds'
finesse.
your taxes at work
in columbia,
hiding from a lost farm
in Idaho
your american dream
turning tricks in shanghai
for a counterfeit
egga roll
your meme, devoid
like an ice cube
tombstone
your freedom, parking cars
for italian escorts
smoking skin flutes
for ferraris
and white teeth.
your integrity, sold to a hedge fund
for astroglide and a pez dispenser
packed with prozac
pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela
in a narco slum
that ain't seen radio
since cinder blocks
had wings.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Bound for lands far in the East
Never have our hands touched
Our eyes barely knew each other
Only a couple of us knew another's name
Fewer recognized our voices
In its Land of Power
As we wandered the grounds
Of a city hoping to earn the winter 5 Rings
We knew joy
We knew laughter
We knew beauty
Unlike what our home lands held
But in our final hours in the city of Beijing
A poison seeped into our morning feast
Which quickly took its toll
A few thousand feet in the Air
As we fell into the city of Western Peace
Our plans became shattered
Few of us barely survived
As our own bodies lost control
We were at the mercy of our own insides
Somehow the two state namesakes were the Worst
Taken to the hospital
If it were not for the group mothers and guides
We would have been among the dead
We saw rolled in front of us
As our medicine was entering our blood
Through needles in our hands
In the midst of what we've come to call
The Xi'an Incident
I saw a glimmer of a rare soul
One full of kindness
Intelligence
And freedom
A type of rare Golden Soul I've come to admire
That lied within the body of the other state
My actions may have been interpreted as
The essence of the White Snake
On some level, maybe it was
But in truth
My gift from Shanghai
To whisper an appropriate goodbye
Was to thank her for pushing me along when times were rough
I am thankful for all that were with me on that trip
And I do hope to see her, and everyone again.
Like I told her in a note I left,
Maybe Hoopa will help make sure
We meet again
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
Eratic Plastic Dysphemistic Euphemisms
the rain in Spain
falls mainly on the plain
while the dome in Rome
is a place to call home
and the gazoot in Beirut
is in cahoot
with the Neo in Reo
and his brother Theo
and Levi in Shanghai
munches blueberry pie
the roast on the coast
has been burnt like the toast
and my frog on the log
barks like a dog
its a pity how gritty
it is in ** Chi Minh City
never challange Mr Wong to play ping pong
in Hong Kong
or smoke a bowl with a mole
in old town Seoul
or the gendarme will storm
the crowd in Pittsburgh
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you
Oh who’s missing you tonight
crying for her teddy bear?
maybe it’s little Amy asleep
who dropped you
while her mum carried her
into the car?
and maybe now little Amy
cries in her room:
'Where’s my teddy bear?'
And Mom says: 'Oh, sweetheart;
sleep, maybe it’s in the car…
we’ll get it in the morning.'
Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you
Oh who’s missing you tonight
crying for her teddy bear?
maybe it’s little Lin
who came visiting from Shanghai
and exchanged her panda bear
for an Aussie cuddly toy
and she’s in the airport now
and cries: 'I lost my Aussie teddy bear'
and they can’t find one at the airport
and Dad says:
'Don’t worry;
we’ll get you a new one
when we get home…'
Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 9:59 AM UTC
the bright lights sparkling
filling up the night sky
the fishy scent of the ocean
so strong you can taste it on the air
the cars in the city
sound so far away
and i smile happily,
as a gentle breeze
whispers through the humid air
i can feel the city in my heart
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
We’re so lucky to live in ‘The Lakes’
Every day we find new mates
Meeting people from Shanghai
From ‘Down Under’ and Dubai
From towns all over this country here
From places far and places near
From across the oceans wide and deep
They come to see our hills and sheep
I’m so lucky to live ‘The Lakes’
A place where I can meditate
Look at the mountains from afar
Admire them like a distant star
Take a picture with my phone
All from my window in my home
I talk about mountains with my mates
I’m so lucky to live in ‘The Lakes’
Sean Hunt June 6th 2016
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
Sadness loomed
over me
spread loving yarns
around me
hiding my flesh
below warp and woof
Needles from on high
***** my stingy pocket
feeling all Shanghai
Hang um up
Consequential bannners
for Count Ceramic Time
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
Oh, ponder, friend, the porcupine;
Refresh your recollection,
And sit a moment, to define
His means of self-protection.
How truly fortified is he!
Where is the beast his double
In forethought of emergency
And readiness for trouble?
Recall his figure, and his shade--
How deftly planned and clearly
For slithering through the dappled glade
Unseen, or pretty nearly.
Yet should an alien eye discern
His presence in the woodland,
How little has he left to learn
Of self-defense! My good land!
For he can run, as swift as sound,
To where his goose may hang high--
Or ****** his head against the ground
And tunnel half to Shanghai;
Or he can climb the dizziest bough--
Unhesitant, mechanic--
And, resting, dash from off his brow
The bitter beads of panic;
Or should pursuers press him hot,
One scarcely needs to mention
His quick and cruel barbs, that got
Shakespearean attention;
Or driven to his final ditch,
To his extremest thicket,
He'll fight with claws and molars (which
Is not considered cricket).
How amply armored, he, to fend
The fear of chase that haunts him!
How well prepared our little friend!--
And who the devil wants him?
2.8k
If I was a king of Asia I would give you all the gold there is
But I'm not even prince of Persia, all I have is love and dreams
Let me show you land of legends, land of honeymoon and rising sun
I am not as rich as Ali Baba, but I promise we'll be having fun
I'll take you to Bali the gem of Java Sea
Then we'll go on to safari a little south of Abu Dhabi
I'll take you to Maldives to swim in coral reefs
We'll enjoy the sweet papaya on the islands of Pattaya
I'll show you lake Baikal, Tibet and Taj Mahal
We'll see Macao, Yokohama, Hanoi, Jeddah, Jaipur, Jakarta
I'll take you to Dubai, Dushanbe and Mumbai
We'll spend some starry nights in yurts near the city of Yakutsk
I’ll take you to Tashkent where melons got their scent
We will taste all sorts of apples in the city of Almaty
I’ll take you to Beirut we'll go nuts on dried fruits
And the coffee with vanilla we can try it in Manilla
I'll take you to Kashgar to shop at old bazaar
Then we'll fly a magic carpet to the markets of Qatar
We'll see ruins of Karakorum the old capital of Moguls
Then we'll go to Kathmandu and then Karachi and Kabul
We'll discover caves with treasures, make three wishes all at once
All at once will turn to a fairy tale, like in one and thousand nights
Let me show you feast of colors, take you cross the dunes in caravans
Even if I don't look like Alladin, I sure know a thing about romance
I'll take you to Taipei to see its lovely bay
We will sip on Coca Cola on the silky sands of Goa
I'll take you to Shanghai where towers touch the sky
And the best of architecture we will see in precious Petra
We'll go to Ashgabat, Bishkek, Busan, Baghdad
We will see Great Wall of China and Cambodian Angkor Wat
We'll see the Everest, mount Fuji, Gobi Desert
And it's certainly my pleasure to take you all around Asia!
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 10:07 PM UTC
poisoned well of the antichrist littered with ground cover
picking out ****** flecks of gravel
blacktop kneeskin
patience pieces of scattered space time
to go back to the future of continuity
lack of genius ingenuity
and the suckling of the pig entourage
riding in a flat top hatchback
cadillac of the daily grind
upperclassman japan onii-chan
brother in arms from anotha motha
hug from afar colliding with crackpot theory
terrible fantasia cooling bricks in soggy sun
swallowed his pride with a glass of self-worth
and these ***** don't cook like they used to
I don't look like I used to
warped veil of camouflage chameleon leather
with a ****** level of automobile salesman
tried to get closer to god
ground him up, picked out the stems
twisted him into thin paper
touched flame to his finger tip and a son of Adam was born
gum shoe gaze
or the emptiness felt at the end of reasonable doubt
correctional text messaging system
sent from hoarse corpses
tenderly poignant in their ****** coffins
will think for food
cries from an outdated MENSA
over ***** and under-appreciated
siting on hunched shoulders to get a better look
to be a martian in a plain port
wharf warehouse whaling boat
red tide in a Shanghai **********
floodgates made of bitter premise
that last bit of purple yam
**** Okonkwo
Things Fall Apart fell apart due to faded highschool ambitions and bloodshot eyes
cruel like the shade of off-cerulean
champagne fizz tickles at the soft meat of his tarnished throat
and silver tongue
as the matchstick framework
so fragile in comparison
fizzles out on drenched sidewalk
while cigarette ash floats by
like gray gnats
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
A is for Athens
B is for Berlin
C is for Cairo
D is for Dublin
E is for Edinburgh
F is for Fukishima
G is for Guangzhou
H is for Helsinki
I is for İstanbul
J is for Johannesburg
K is for Kiev
L is for London
M is for Madrid
N is for New York
O is for Oslo
P is for Paris
Q is for Quito
R is for Riga
S is for Shanghai
T is for Tokyo
U is for Ulan Bator
V is for Vancouver
W is for Washington
X is for Xianyang
Y is for Yerevan
Z is for Zagreb
Travel the world
see these places
meet new people
make new friends
take photos
make memories
always be happy
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Preparations are gearing up for the iD Dunedin Fashion Show, which this year opens with a tribute to Australasian style on Anzac weekend.
The 120m-long platform of Dunedin's railway station is again the venue for shows on April 24 and 25, which are preceded by the iD International Emerging Designer Awards on Thursday night at the Town Hall.
Saturday night is sold out and about 100 tickets are still available to Friday's show, organisers say.
Labels Carlson, Mild-Red and NOM*d, brands synonymous with Dunedin fashion, were in the original show in a local bar in 2000 and they're still show stalwarts.
Company of Strangers, Charmaine Reveley, DADA Vintage, Storm, Perriam, Deval, GG (from Shanghai), Liann Bellis, BEATS clothing, Jason Lingard and Jane Sutherland are also strutting their stuff this year.
The shows open with a section titled Together Alone, Revisited, put together by Doris De Pont, featuring garments by four New Zealand and three Australian designers shown at an exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria in 2009.
International guest judge Doris Raymond, the star of documentary series LA Frockstars, is also bringing some garments with her for the show.
The owner of vintage emporium The Way We Wore has a fabulous collection of outfits and she will talk about them at an event in the city on Friday.
Six fashion graduate designers from the Otago Polytechnic School of Design will also show their collections in the shows on Friday and Saturday night.
Garments made by the winner of the emerging designer awards are also in the show.
The finalists were selected from nearly 100 entries from seven countries and 14 fashion schools.
There's a strong showing from Australian schools, especially from Sydney, says judge Tanya Carlson.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Like the tide,
you, will, rise and fall, impossible to hold on to.
Just as a pattern emerges
your personality synchronises with the British weather.
Like a long summer evening in Shanghai you are warm and bright,
carefree as an afternoon breeze.
Making me smile, laugh, blush
such a tease.
Car rides into the sunset with
the windows down and the music up
sharing cigarettes.
But as you pull those dark shades over your eyes and soul
the rain begins to pour
the intimacy washes away
trust astray
several steps apart
from the inch we grew closer yesterday.
Laid back, insecure, self-centred, unreliable,
unstable, restless and emotinally unavailable
yet somehow charmingly mystic
surprisingly dashing
talented and well bred
unattainably captivating
naively helpless
shy
thus I cannot pin point why
I am drawn.
I regret not kissing you
and know I would still have
if I did...
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
Blurry regrets of stumbling nights
And entangled intrigues
Lifelong sparks and crisp clean elation
A love affair for risk-seeking souls
And a haven for the lost
that seek something
To satiate the raw, raw emptiness
Of our hearts.
You're chaos, my own version of order
filthy but magnificent
Reliably unpredictable
Escape and anchor intertwined.
And Yet,
I choose you
My sanctuary,
my crucible--
&I; love your imperfections;
For the mess of what you are
Is exactly what I see in me
And so I am yours as you are mine
And in your embrace
I feel whole and alive.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.
"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.
Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng ** bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.
The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.
The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.
Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.
Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.
The Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks
Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
Pudong Airport to Shanghai. Yes. Good. Push in.
Start go....go...go! 150kms, 200kms, 300kms, FOUR ONE FIVE KMS.
High above the highways I think
Today the driver is drunk.
Today is the day that I die.
Quickly I take a cellphone pic
And send my last moment to my mother.
I am shaking, this is so fast
What flashes in front becomes the past.
Shanghai, we're here.
I push myself out of the carriage
Through the crowds on the elevators
I run to the Yangtze River
I breathe in the over-polluted air.
Thank you.
Now I am safe.
I put on my mask
And walked to my heated apartment.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Get Your Free Navy Seal ™ ® Flashlight Now
Genuine Navy Seal ™ ® Secrets that they
Don’t want any Real Americans to know
Secret Navy Seal ™ ® muscle building techniques
Secret Navy Seal ™ ® camouflage gear
Look like a real GENUINE Navy Seal ™ ®
Confuse the Deep Illuminati ™ ® with
Your secret Navy Seal ™ ® Decoder Ring
Let’s not forget your Navy Seal ™ ® Duct Tape
MAKE AMERICA (and Shanghai) GREAT AGAIN
And get your free Navy Seal ™ ® flashlight now
Free shipping with orders over $50
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
I take pleasure in the simple things
And I know a lot of people say that
But I think a lot of people get carried away
With the idea of getting carried away
They watch movies for the special effects
Go to baseball games for the big names
And watch trains go by for the wrecks
But I take pleasure in the simple things
The other day I paced in the rain
It was summer so the warm water
Reminded me of growing up in Shanghai
Where the chemical rain would burn when it touched you
And that's a happy memory for me
I watch movies for the kisses
The Humphrey Bogart
Reach out and kiss the crap out of them kisses
The Ingrid Bergman sly, seductive kisses
The Audrey Hepburn innocent, eyes closed kisses
I go to baseball games to smell the air
Little league games, high school games,
Minor league games, professional games
It doesn't matter they all smell like dirt and leather
I like to walk by freshly mowed lawns
Because it reminds me of when I was younger
And played soccer every Saturday morning
On just cut grass
I love, love, love to watch little kids run in circles
For absolutely no reason at all
I take pleasure in the simple things
I think too often people
Try to measure the was of each day
Against the could be of every dream
Forgetting that we don't ask our dreams
To accomplish themselves between 9-5
Some people get caught up in
Trying to live their life
Like it was a scene from a dream
They drempt while they slept last night
And though sometimes life can seem like a movie
We are not producers or directors
Merely actors following our lines
Trying to feel out someone else's vision
So I find pleasure in the simple things
The parts no producer could control
The lines that aren't in the script
The prettiest rose on my bike ride home
Warm Rain
Dirt
Leather
Cut grass, little kids, and puppy dogs
Because if we limit the pleasure we find
To the greatest moments in our lives
We're never going to believe it's happening when it is
Always dreaming there could be more to our life then there is
And when we do finally believe
The only chance we'll have to smile
Will be at a memory
And we'll miss all the beauty and pleasure
The world and life
Has put in front of you and me
Aug 25, 2009
Aug 25, 2009 at 7:40 PM UTC
Fried Turtles
The little dog chews on the blue wire
His sharp teeth need blunting
So he picked this bomb wire to gnaw
He likes biting and such like
One of his main interests
His master’s fingers and boots
Car tires on parked cars
And his Holy toys
The gold cross from the church
That’s totally ******
Just like the blue wire he has
Look it’s now severed
And the bomb will explode
Killing ten million Chinese
Flattening central Shanghai
Good job the dog and wire
Are ten miles away
He’ll still get a tan
And ten million turtles
Will be totally ******* fried
It was a Taiwanese bomb…
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
*coats of dust & pollen settle
on an unoccupied desk;
clumps of rust sprout
on faded typewriter keys.
marmalade pages with
elaborate strokes & scribbles
shrivel like mango slices
suffocating in tropical heat.
a dozen lolling envelopes
with awe inciting addresses
from San Francisco to Shanghai
each wither like aging flowers.
the room once gleaming in
luminescence now hoards darkness.
brandeis blue curtains drape
the windows, stifling sunlight.
sober emotions linger
in the thick, musty air;
overripe creativity decays
into the unwashed floorboards.
rhyme, rhythm, & reason
of the mind cease to bloom;
curiosity & inspiration fall dormant
in a chilling, thoughtless winter.
the mind of a former poet
is an unkept garden;
an Eden of ideas abandoned
in favor of myopic trivialities.
though unattended, the
garden is never barren;
cultivate your imagination &
you will always harvest beauty.
**it’s never too late to pick up your pen;
water your mind & your garden will grow!***
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC