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David R Jun 2021
at first, the road appears anfractuous,
with intricate windings and turnings tortuous,
tumbled 'n chaotic, as roller-coaster,
springing surprises as new bread-toaster,
ravines and rivers, bends and loops,
naked rockfaces, climbs and swoops,
yet looking back, from start to now,
I see straight line as furrow o' plow,
traced in the earth as i trudged along,
grasping right and stumbling on wrong,
those cliff-edge encounters part of the route,
as my being descended down the chute,
but, i surmise, if i had taken,
another path, and this one forsaken,
i'd see it too as one line direct,
from beginning to end, just and correct,
at the end of the day, it depends on us,
what path we take on this star dust.
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
nivek Mar 2017
What is this springing up out the Earth
Daffodils yellow filled with Sun
new life from out the fertile dark
the resurrection of winters stark deaths
colourful witness to life's indomitable strength.
madeline leon May 2016
Sea;
The water
Angry
Blowing and springing up rocks, and sand

The fish
Pondering if they shall live
Wondering when the waves will calm
Wondering if the day shall end

The mermaids
Sitting on the rocks
Flowing their beautiful, vivid color tails
And twirling their long, beach curled hair.
Playing in the crazy waves
Enjoying their made up days

Being a mystery is the life to live
Because what could be the problem
If you can’t have a care to give?
Now school and social lives create stress
But when you are a made up character
Your life can not be a mess

So the water tames
And some of the fish have passed
The exotic animals that swim the seas
Don’t seem to be the same

But if you are a fictional character
There’s not a worry in sight
Not worth it
To put up a fight
Children think of you
As the beauty of the sea
But now that i’m grown
You aren’t real to me
I dreamt of becoming you
In my younger days
I broke the wishbone to be you, on holidays
But maybe my worries aren't big enough
Because i'm just a the fish to you, and have my own ways.
Fire

There is a fire inside my soul,  
with flames dancing beneath my skin, casting shadows against my cheeks.  
I feel my spirit rise after enduring so much.  
I sense the fire lingering, along with the sun and the life springing forth from my lungs.  
And you, God, you draw me into your depths, reminding me of who I am,  
and that I am not finished yet.  
This world has tried to bury me with its furious fists and powerful hands,  
and yet, here I stand.

-Rhia Clay
I used to be big on life,
Now i am big in life.
Tis all because i decided to let bygons be (bygons),
And focus on new beginings.
Off the bat hits of life like its the begining of new innings,
'Cause all bats are on the table,
And all bets are off.
Living life raw hence all gloves are off.
They say 'the gods must be crazy' to have me as an offspring,
Whilst im in my meditational contemplation,
Of springing from continent to continent,
Galaxy to galaxy for my next home-run.
The Creator being my basis,
Gallaries and gallaxies i will use for my bases.
Knowing i am the son of the soil in my soul,
I stay unbilical coded to mother-nature.
Culture and tradition be the foundation,
Deeply rooted the fortress to retreat-home.
Rooting-off all regrets
With their repeat habbits,
Whilst studying my mistakes.
Changed the conceptualisation off hobbies,
Into entertaining activities of progress.
Believing in hope,
And having hope in beliefs.
Distinguished in differentiation,
Of data to information,
Information to knowledge,
Knowledge to intelligence,
Intelligence to wisdom.
As i am in the dominion of the wise,
I rise to dominate the (non/un)wise with the wise.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Those three words still left mute
in the face of other truths
that sentiment now replaced
by the breadth of other ways
consider patience in three steps
each important in itself
leading love to be found
in the links between all

first the instance of the blush
put to cheeks in response
to the warmth springing forth
that promise made on a whim
echoing fondness in heart
for another equally blessed
mirrored in color’s bloom
rose to mark the rising sun

followed by the seeking grasp
tentative in caution’s stead
contact fragile as the snow
hands desiring ardour’s prize
mutually seeking more than less
that promise made in face of fear
when the fire must be seized
before chapter changes page

the final phrases are obscured
by a lingering that transcends
time shared that’s routine
walking paths to share space
then three words are disclosed
no longer held on the tongue
when the way has been cleared
for ‘I love you’ to be exclaimed.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180921.
The poem “Those Three Words” was inspired by a series of memes featuring Peter and Lara Jean.  The topic of the memes was, “saying ‘I love you’ without actually saying it”.  I believe these sentiments exist beyond the realm of romantic love.
jordan Aug 2020
font springing from
the depths of a shallow pool

boiling with fervor
under glass-still surface

with effort i see i can see
through my own reflection

golden-bedrock streambed
red sand flowing downstream

and i know that this river
and my life are forever one
Devon Leonel May 2019
This castle was made of nothing more than clouds, I know
But it seemed to almost build itself
Springing more fully into being
With each interaction
Every look, a soaring tower swirling into being
Every smile, a noble wall stretching through space
Every touch, a waving banner of proclamation
And inside the lofty keep
Blazing brightly on the hearth
Fueled by the promise of things unsaid
The flaming tongues of possibility
Burning, growing, feeding on the hope
That this majestic vaporous edifice
Might be the blueprint
For something solid
Something real
How strange that it could all fall apart
Rent into nothing but wispy fragments
By a single breath
Of air
It hurts the worst when you don't see it coming
David Fesenco Mar 11
I wish i could open up a bottle
and bring myself right back into the times
when i saw you as God, and myself a prophet,
and crawled to your house on the broken glass
of the bottles I'd had, so often, before.

It's such a novelty -
not dragging my bleeding self across the floor,
not seeing, in that trail of red, the springing stems
of hemlock breaking ground, to prove my loyalty
to yet another God who has abandoned men.

/in the jacket of evening mist
i hear vagabonds eating rats.
I remember when being missed
felt like getting a dose of crack./

When choosing to live loved or be dismissed,
i now think that i should have picked the latter,

/there's no misfortune when it comes to fate/

for love is just another form of cancer
that you would only find when it's too late.
Finally finished an older poem
Mol Dec 2018
when you touch me,
imaginary insects flutter through my being,
my belly almost bursts with the overwhelming sensation.
when you smile,
the butterflies can't stay still,
they fly around my body, fluttering and floating as they soar in circles within my fragile frame.
sometimes it feels like there are thousands, ready to rupture through my skin and swarm around you, they seem quite fond.
and it feels like they've always been there,
perhaps once caterpillars, as all butterflies start,
cocooned inside a chrysalis within the depths of my heart.
until one day, I met you and they bloomed like spring flowers, springing from cocoons,
their petal wings spread and created an unique feeling of simultaneous warmth and nervousness.
you said you feel them too, the improbable insects deep below your skin, within your core.
does this mean we're in love,
or just friends with butterflies?
Jason Myr Jun 2019
Breaking forsaking, bridging the gap
Intimidation lost in translation
Springing his trap
Salvation evasion, eroding my mind
Enlightening sedation, a permanent grind
Cleanse your spirit, all of my kind
and let us clearly see, where once we were Blind.
Everybody sharing planet Earth means,
     they moost breathe
     the same befouled air
encircling the webbed material,
     physical, and terrestrial wide world,
     where noxious poisons get spewed

     from industries,
     that wantonly belch and blare
seemingly, indiscriminatingly,
     and deplorably - toxins affecting
     all living organisms - care
lessly damaging, harming,

     and extinguishing offspring
     at reproductive stage
     of Mother Earth, who dare
ring lee fight back with tooth,
     and nail despoliation polluting,
     unleashing, and

     zapping sea and sky e're
decreasing biodiversity necessary
     ditto clear cutting,
     encroaching habitats,
     and killing off vital
     linkedin ecosystems fear

row huss lee trump glare
ring depredations here
and now exacerbated inhere
rent lee by overturned
     ecological/environmental
     bulwarks jeer

ring lee scrapped by a president,
     who stole winning ballot
     springing trapdoors to garrote
legislation supporting
     jerryrigged oblate spheroid,
     with mean temperature so hot

to evaporate flora,
     and fauna protections
eventually rendering **** sapiens
     a metrical footnote
     with only an umlaut
to punctuate how greed
     spelled what their
     own extinction wrought!
Cuz buzzards circle o'er me
eyeing these lovely bones prithee
id est Roy L. T. Canard, Si
hence impossible mission
to be lovey dove vee.

Vague remembrances of dream  
which recurred with frequency
transfixed by Sir Real majesty
shows me and the misssus evicted.

Hum habitually hiccuping
in tandem feeling woozy
virtually celebrating monarchism
with British Royal Family,
and about eager and ready
to take a snoozy
so please pardon this poet
exhibiting being a lil oozy,
nevertheless yours truly
birthed the following verse
a reasonable rhyme and doozy
considering yours truly tipsy and *****.

Now this raggedy man
whilst deep in sleep
this past night
what felt like galactic body
fell upon ma slumbering heap
affecting immediate fear
lest worst nightmare
viz management boot us
into emotional inferno

felt steel tipped kickstarter,
would crush with might
but lo… heavy weighted body
just zee spouse
plunked herself into zzz land
immediately within unconsciousness deep
that's the husband unable
to recaptcha pleasant dreams
well nigh past midnight.

Unable to shake away drunken stupor
nor defeat insomnia
reliving sinister tête-à-tête
so...rather than emit shrieks
like some angry bird
idea arose to resume completing poem
expressing discombobulated state,
whereby sixty shades
of grey matter feels
similar to thick whey curds
palliative sans restorative power
per rest hopefully clear muddled pate

plagued with grogginess
and marauding herds
of mailer daemons worse
than unsuitable mate
or a world wide web filled with nerds,
thus lethargy purged
via catharsis forming swords
follow rhyming pattern
to convey drowsy tipsy mood,
a synonym for my words.

Noah respite despite eliminating kinks
courtesy arched back from cat nap
as ginned tonic, nor lion here
feline groovy getting high temporarily
spells relief and serve as balm
with pillowed temptress ever near
beckons softly inviting calm
before this human
goes awry and berserk on manic tear
being revisited from haunts
inside head of this wordsmith
caught by men in white coats
coming to take me away
**-**, hee-hee, ha-ha,

to the funny farm
straitjacketing this maniac
wrought with weariness
dark ringed circles around eyes  
showing Adonis long since didst veer
Judas Priest or  
if you prefer heavens to murgatroyd
can't stomach bulge
spills o'er tattered underwear,
whose ***** by the way
once upon a time
about the size of average palm pilot,
yet taut for witnessing
three score plus three mortal year.

This ole goat intoxicated,
plus forcibly locked within
fas paux blinding darkness,
the pitch black common
all purpose room
in disarray after Skyping English fete
at fictional Knock Less Apartments aye
daily encounter, one bewitchingly

hair raising dreaded locked
rooted tension doth amplify
fiendishly horrible, jeeringly loopy,
nippy nap noopy,
pugnaciously ravenous, talon
viciously wizened, xenophobic yeti, zapping
zeroing zillion zippers,
zoned alley bye

barred doors fate helplessly jury-rigged
sealed with plaintive cry;
no escape known to this man caught
in a deadly voodoo clutch,
thus doomed to die
ugly cannibalistic, frightful,
heathen rumors myopic eyes espy
alarmed at feeling trapped

akin to a wingless fly
tapping reserves of scapegoat
coping techniques ingenuity,
which earned me moniker "fall guy,"
where accursed cruel fate destined exit
from getting husked, issued
jagged lance like mandibles "hi
there unknown weekly reader,” I

pray for super leftist
write hand man/woman to extricate
(via whipping up literary poetic fabrication),
then joining me to sing jai
(let victory prevail against killer odds)
perhaps summoning division
of British shiver rights phalanx,
hood reply with Hackneyed "oh kai"

springing surprise rescue,
sans swooping inside
mine hermetically faux invisible prison,
where this troubadour doth reside,
yet realistic to accept my
demise without putting up
a good fight well nigh
against inevitable mortality

(out maws of death)
gleefully depriving grim reaper
death his domain and
eventual unavoidable claim,
but if such kind unaccustomed soul
can cushion the blow of penury...
vis a vis philanthropic treatment
manifested as deliverance  

courtesy anonymous altruistic benefactor
plucking one bard
off downward slippery
precipice of homelessness,
ye will be rewarded with apple pie
ala mode enjoying a Quai,
yet moment with
Holden Caulfield doppelganger
made famous qua Catcher in the Rye.
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2018
Shawn mumbles in her sleep about cheerleaders and toilet slaves,
******* her wormhole at an ancient ambient wedding—
Edna in her seamed stockings disguised as a pinup,
Reciting short ****** prayers, her knickers down—
Exciting as ice cream there is only one flavor—
Shawn mumbling in her sleep & ******* her wormhole—
A mother’s ***** is sweeter than ice cream,
As exciting as ice cream, unforgettable as a perfect pearl
Her punctuated perspective; her ocean of body hair,
Her cat sculpted of ****** wood; her nurse’s degree,
My short radio fiction, Edna spanking Rabindraneth—
Lizzie and Marilyn walking in stilettos in the sand,
Her diamond encrusted bra straps,
Time traveling to the present January,
Ella eating out the blonde, not just any hippie
Her pearls glistening in the night, star struck in a world of wonder—showing herself to me and realizing my dreams in the vacuum of sleep her mother doing yoga with an *** the size of a watermelon as delicious as spring breezes off the brown river of her European charm, her restroom orthodox,
Plastic Japanese women listening to the Beatles,
It’s no crime that she’s heir to a philosophy that’s cool and calm—
Cheerleaders and toilet slaves know there is only one Paradise
But many Hells, one for each eye, her soul’s twin, Diana, and freedom—if you take one teenaged girl you have to take them all, teenage girls travel in sweeping swarms of Realism,
Old tongues aligned with their *******
Barbie’s Jewish roots wasted in Japan—
Swedish grandmothers weekend wives—
Tender Victorian feet of tomorrow thinking before they speak instinctively, the math subconscious, his ugly Lebanese sister’s boat my salvation—
Minimalism proving impractical in a Baroque Age—
We must choose our blue angels miraculously
Gorgeous Russian ****** in the underground—
Skinny blonde rednecks turned urban hipsters,
not just any blonde or infantile Japanese woman, a ******’s familiar face Russian rock and roll lover inevitably naked and insane Russian girls tasting like apples, Edna and Shawn partying on the beach with an Israeli girl;
Ella showing the Japanese girl to the toilet dreaming of crows,
Painting her four walls, showing ******’s sister strangled with her own pantyhose on film her deepest thoughts springing to hellish life—at the last minute she runs in and blows me a Cinderella kiss—
I live in the two worlds of her heart’s unknown origins,
Her secret gray mansion an Indian Jewish mother I know well,
His ugly Lebanese sister’s boat my salvation—
On that fine day when I kissed you I felt ten feet tall
But then couldn’t fit through the door
So I’m going to kiss you again so I can feel small enough
To walk in and kiss you again and burst through the ceiling like a jet through the atmosphere and once in the sky
I’ll write your name in letters twenty feet high—
Just to tell you I don’t think I could live another day
Without you and yet here it’s another day—
Where have I been in hell with Orpheus
And Satan’s handmaid but I want to get back to the airplane
With you in my arms soaring around the sun—
Dedalus has nothing on me, Apollo knows all I want to know is what the Delphic oracle said to you when u had me in your Egyptian bed
God the Father giving me head on his hands & knees
I will take ur your hand to wed—
I’m feeling lucky, I don’t even know why,
Could it be because I just saw a ghost dancing across the room
that comes as no surprise any day or any time—
The poet prays to Euclid’s golden cube,
Silver and magnetic, the mother of all elements
Spits them from her sphincter like her mother before her—
The minimalist chaos of complexity the future of our rhythms and reflections—petite mother of misty, golden gasses
Glassed into a baroque dialogue,
Moliere mystified, supple Byzantine flesh,
Botticelli and all things that start as ideas,
Art starting with things and turning them into ideas,
Stripping the flesh from her back,
Her mystical heritage seeing the world from inside a  
western missionary smoking dope from a mother’s ***,
My mother’s slippery genius no useless thing
Barbara’s *** smelling like musty pantyhose;
From arte povera to minimalism,
I would make love to her for money, a lot of money,
Her spindly southern feet bare in strappy flats—
Minimalism is not simple, my Anima is not an animal
I'm writing on the
pages of the Earth
to the wretched of
the earth, my love, for
them to be free.

I know freedom
comes not free
without any​ iota
of fight springing
from knowledge.

You must fight for
your freedom which
is kept in jail of the
oppressors.

Think of it, I lament
my people who are
beginning to appreciate
their chains!

Freedom must come to
the wretched of the Earth!

Writing on the pages of the
Earth is to free the oppressed
of the Earth,

And this, my supreme task!
sandra wyllie Oct 2019
each time you say
my name. The daffodils
are springing up in flutes of
pink champagne. The clouds are

making letters in the sky. They’re
composing a poem before my
very eyes. The cattails are barking
in the marsh. They’re so ***** I suspect

someone fed them cornstarch. The leaves
are falling up instead of down. My square
house is completely round. There are no edges,
even the roof does not have eaves. And

no matter how high up I look I can’t find
the tops of the trees. I don’t know where I am
or where I’m going. But whatever it is I feel
like a non-stop glowstick stuck on a pinwheel.
Lancelot May 2017
The rising of the sun each day, signals a new beginning,
From birth to adolescence, extending to old age and hair thinning.

When it sets for the close of day, it's beauty has no parallel,
At night while we sleep, the moon lights the path, while causing our oceans to swell.

The Sun and the Moon, daylight and darkness, oceans with waves that must crash,
A simple equation, that reflects all our lives, anything else, is nothing but trash.

A mother gives birth and happiness reigns, like the rays of the sun springing forth,
Excitement abounds, A new day has dawned, this life has no match in its worth.

Darkness descends like a thief in the night,
Confusion abounds at each turn,
Friendships castrated, lovers rebuked, its safer to light them and watch as they burn.

Destruction of self and the turmoils of life, they swell like the tide as it rises,
We wait for the crash, because all waves must break, regardless of difference in sizes.  

Stop for a minute and think of the magic, guidance both day and at night,
A radiant Sun, majestic the Moon, an ocean of food no matter our plight.

Each and every one of us, must travel the path ordained,
Some are good, others indifferent, while some are so bad that they stain.

Regardless of the one you've walked, commonalities yet exist,
An open mind, and forgiving heart, attracts goodness no one can dare resist.

Apples and Oranges, Figs and limes, opposites beyond their true nature,
Yet purposeful they are, necessary for us, who cares of their difference in stature.

Forgive me for my ranting, it may not make much sense, the lines seem like many, yet they barely skirt the fence,
Look beyond the obvious, peer through the blinds you wear, decipher what seems wrong to you, Investigate pretense!!

Lancelot
Donall Dempsey Mar 2018
BETWEEN THE WORDS

The leg that had fallen
asleep: suddenly awoke
attacked him with pins...with needles.

"Ow!"  "oW!" & "OW!"
he shouted at himself
shaking a leg

He felt like a bad
Xerox copy of
his self.

The typewriter glowered at him.
He glared right back.
"Do your worst!" it smirked.

"...the men who moil for gold..."
the old Service line resurfaced
"Moil...ha ha...how true!"

His measly one-finger-typing
trying to keep up with
his mind...fall...ing..be...hind.

The typewriter trying to
find his train of thought
the clickety clack of words.

Man morphing into machine.
Both one & the same.
Only the next word...counts.

Thinking & not thinking.
The mind in free fall.
The words pumped up.

Loving the return of carriage
the next line springing into
being.

"Coraggio!. . .coraggio!"
His mind admonishes him.
"Andiamo!" he exhorts his words.

On a roll now.
One part of him( writing ).
The other singing THE RUNAWAY TRAIN.

"And she blew!
And she blew...blew...blew....blew...blew!
Ooooohhhh....oooooohhh!"

Uh hu!
The ribbon of his mind
wearing thin.

Words now in red.
& now.
In nothing.

The words appearing
like their own ghosts.
A mere impression.

"Don't leave me this way!"
his mind sings to them.
" I don't understand how I'm at your command..."

The "e" key
raising its angry  littl     fist.

Stu...stu...UCK A gain.

Typewriter: quiet now.
Weeds of silence
growing up

between the words.
Chris Apr 2020
The Freckled Frog
The freckled frog
Went cra-rog ca-rog
Sitting by the sandy sog
Of the bog
The dappled  dog
Went fa-rog fa-rog
And set about her business
She silently slid slippering
Closing closer clumping
Sprightly springing
Mighty mouth munching
That frog was no more
A diabolical, inimical, piratical,
and venal worm,
whose cut throat devious shenanigans
found yours truly to squirm;
his addiction to money (mine)
sated until he ****** me dry
analogous to nicoderm,
yet impossible mission
to smoke out the most minute germ
converting life savings of mine
into bitcoin cyber currency.

Horrible reality of being hoodwinked,
preyed upon human vermin
immediately upended high jinxed mien
floundering ten thousand leagues
under the cyber sea
analogous to Titanic submersible.

I always feel myself surprised
to what length con artists (scammers)
expend themselves, when they
(he, she) could be
productive citizens of society.

In plain English,
yours truly got blindsided, extorted
interrogated, needled,
tricked, and frankly zapped
courtesy fobbing off
honest to goodness verity
springing from computer malware
kickstarting me to be virtually robbed
in broad daylight
with the fullest consent of
self anointed aspiring poet,
(steeled against irony

as if liberating money
in both saving
and checking accounts – two of each
emptied out as if expunged funds
belonged to somebody else),
when delivering a sucker punch
that cost me more than
thirteen thousand dollars
inviting such thoughts
to overdose on prescription medication.

Hence, the shonda rhyme
of utter literal pennilessness
decries hatred linkedin
proclaiming scathing wretchedness
upon the talking head
(with a clipped dialect)
ensnaring unsuspecting victims
(lower case in point -
writer of these words),
when Macbook Pro laptop
got rendered non functionally disabled
thank you ghost in the machine,
wherein reigned indubitable chaos.

Hence, loss of nest egg
(found me cracked up)
regarding resultant monetary liquidation
fall of the crowded house ushered
disquisition without hesitation
briefly describing my death
originally due to fetal positioned
congenital psychological affliction
and today's painful aggravation,
when countless Benjamins
gussied up as hobgoblins

joined human league
averse to plaintive benediction
thence, this with mine jetblue
skinny legs like a chicken
his (mein kampf) got dealt mortal
(who gives a hoot) blowfish
rem mains disintegrated
by mailer daemons usurped dereliction,
whereby sanity given eviction
in the subsequent fiction

that makes feeble attempt
to evoke stricken gumption,
where eons ago nihilistic thoughts rode
roughshod to wreak humiliation
upon prepubescent initiation,
whereby the antithesis of jubilation
kept the author (yes, yours truly)
like a trapped mouse
in a cat protected kitchen,
where no cheeses cur heist
could rectify or bring libation.

Noah hide dee ya what mailer daemon
possessed this earthlinked
live nada so hotmail
to splutter so much persiflage
as evidenced above and in the following.

Ye might well categorize
the palaver as pure llama
heaped dung attempting
to sneak into yar consciousness
as some esoteric badinage aspiring
to convey that this doodler
with words adroit
with the english language.

Temptation to bid fare thee well
bah humbug anguish
cuz down the gullet goes lethal drug
e'en without any farewell hug
after smacking lips polished
off deadly drink from mug.

Within reverie long fostered hankered freedom
at last attained to exit silently
terrestrial real estate oblate spheroid
during hulu heralded century 21,
which would deliver
(ants sir) rectifying eternal senescent deliverance.

Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness
and goodwill toward men/women
served as a mere pretense
extant the global arcade.

Nothing boot charade, enfilade
(albeit with limp poetic/
prosaic pugnacious), facade,
gilded hilariously inside *******.

Ever since he kickstarted lifelessly,
his noggin oddly plunged quietly
resting as a deceased shutterfly
tonight under vaporous wisps
as somber mood prevailed
amidst the cloistered silence imposed from
the shunted cremated preference
re: symbolic (logical)
figurative burial of Matthew Harris
subsequently reincarnated as soft dust.

Potter's field here I come,
one harried styled swiftly tailored
faceless book earthworm member
joined the rank n file
of his slimy brethren n cistern
when a mortal male
(crushed courtesy cruel
cockamamie crime) ceased
to live June twenty first
two thousand twenty three.

I foresaw how miserable fate worse than death
resolved, albeit at loss to kith and kin
of beloved brother, father to deux
darling grown daughters and husband
since July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
now left destitute and widowed.

Immune to antics of scallywags,
the grim reaper undertook requisite business
and swung a his scythe with effortless breath
and started coffin.

He exhaled little billows of cold air
while awaiting the hearst
carrying lifeless body
of none other than me doppelganger.

Prior to imagined demise, I took special pains
to select an ideal piloted kamikaze pilot plot.

A mossy glen with a mill by the pond
of my boyhood swimming hole
served like the ideal welcome mat
for the return of this native son
long gone from his family estate of Glen Elm.

At pinnacle of storied fame
death struck (with welcome arms) unexpectedly
while dodging the madding crowd
off hucksters, punsters,
and xenophobic bummers
jostling to get a glimpse of renown author,
where paparazzi seemed
destined to track me down.

As the advocate of countless essays
on inalienable rights
for all creatures large and small,
no pause from the hounding
local populace offered peace of mind.

Until now!

The prospect of dying
never scared this non-believer.

Cessation of consciousness
essentially served completion of life
in corporeal form
and reconstituted physical being
into grist for other organisms to flourish.

Karma and glorious unique characteristics
comprising each of our respective charisma,
dogma, and persona
(generally comprising an enigma
to the world) absorbed
after contract with cosmic creator lapsed.

Brief occupancy on this terrafirma
as inscribed in genetic code
(merely a blink of an eye
in the universal schema)
gave this now deceased dreamer
notion to maximize enjoyment of each day.

One need not globe trot
(and boast of espying exotic places),
but could experience inner harmony
by imbibing the present.

Simple pleasures that abounded
in the wild or evoked via creative imagination
of august writers supplied
ample sustenance for satisfaction.

Contemplative and introspective mien
prompted Eros to be discerned
in the grand canyon of Mother Nature
in tandem with personal motive
to indulge like-minded thinkers
since the beginning of time.

Any given day frequently found thoughts
turning over every figurative
jagged rolling stone
when the veiled, shrouded, cloaked...
characterization invoking angel of death
might silently spring a surprise visit,
which metaphysical thought
interestingly enough gave sigh of relief.

Why?

Upon termination of enjoying existence
in living color, the eradication
of this pet peeve of mine i.e.
anxiety/ panic attacks
interwoven with inxs
of obsessive compulsive behavior
would dissolve into basic elements
of earth, wind and fire.

No iota amount of matter
marshaled the non-entity dimension
would assume command.

Those former psychological trials
would thence be relinquished
from their parasite role
and recompose cells
of one mortal man (me)
into matter to be recycled
into raw materiel
for other organisms to feast upon.

Basic constituent cells
of **** sapien in question
would become necessary seeds
for some other manifestation
for plant or animal development.

Godaddy maggots sans fancy feast,
a best buy per this former
foo fighting beastie boy,
whose nihilistic outlook
promulgated within his in utero psyche.

Gestation as an embryonic fetus,
the potential live, googly eyed,
earth-linked, wannabe hotmail prodigy
harbored no oshkosh bug gosh
pinterest to remain
in the world wide web of bad company.

Hence, nothing could mollify measly
mumbling linkedin kibitzer,
albeit progressive matchless
who unwittingly opened
the red box of Pandora.

Molecular features
would assume novel combinations
thru said degradation of flesh,
yet improvisation of biology
would wield wasted corpse
that once epitomized an articulate,
civil, enumerate, glib, invertebrate,
kind male into novel marvels
of unpredictable genus and species.
Lawrence Hall May 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                A Metternichian State of Repose
                                in a Concert of Leaves and Light

Up before dawn and out among the quiet
Concelebrating with God the leafy light
That falls as blessing upon the lawn’s soft turns
From grey to gold to green to springing life

And then from meditation to liturgy
The Opus Dei of Saturday mornings
With rake and shovel and fire against the litter
That shoals into corners and along the fence

The feeblest remembrance of God’s mighty hand
Shaping chaos into order and meaning
A poem is itself.
Odd Odyssey Poet Mar 2021
May fall in love,
but I'm too afraid to fall for you.
Even as a giver,
my biggest fear is me not providing for you.
My role as man a task,
in life, don't really have much time to relax.

Casually living,
perhaps is me easily sinning.
With all the cursing and pleading,
I hope in my season of love it will be springing.
madeline leon Apr 2016
Sea
The water
Angry
Blowing and springing up rocks, and sand

The fish
Pondering if they shall live
Wondering when the waves will calm
Wondering if the day shall end

The mermaids
Sitting on the rocks
Flowing their beautiful, vivid color tails
And twirling their long, beach curled hair.
Playing in the crazy waves
Enjoying their made up days

Being a mystery is the life to live
Because what could be the problem
If you can’t have a care to give?
Now school and social lives create stress
But when you are a made up character
Your life can not be a mess

So the water tames
And some of the fish have passed
The exotic animals that swim the seas
Don’t seem to be the same

But if you are a fictional character
There’s not a worry in sight
Not worth it
To put up a fight
Children think of you
As the beauty of the sea
But now that i’m grown
You aren’t real to me

I dreamt of becoming you
In my younger days
I broke the wishbone to be you, on holidays
But maybe my worries aren't big enough
Because i'm just a the fish to you, and have my own ways.
Kani Mar 11
Colors
So many colors
Splashed right across
The prism of space
The prism inside me
The prism of life
Springing forth
And falling back
Booming and blooming
As life takes its
Own decisive turns
Colors mirroring
Experiences
Of expressions
Doing their own
Designs enticing
All awaiting
Spring means something different for all of us. To me, it’s all about possibility.
Your mind
Whips around and around
Thoughts are catapulted into your mind
Everything is springing
Spring out of control
It’s a tornado
A storm crashing your thoughts
Until they are no more.
When your thoughts are as deadly as your fist.
tiny-giants Apr 2020
I see the frenzied springing
of luscious roses
in your cheeks.

Their sweet scent
brings about me
a tangential dream.

I see in your eyes
caramel-marbled
honey-soaked disks.

The blithe rays
of the golden Sun
gild your freckled skin.

I've fallen captive
to the graceful sway
of your divine form.

I am addicted
to the sweet havoc
you stir in my heart.

I am drunk
on all things
about you.

— The End —