"trots" poems
I argue
To harm you
The protective computer screen
Allows me to be rude or mean
Without feeling your pain
So it becomes a game
Or a simulation of fame
If I can ignore the shame
The tread is wearing off the tire
After the internet stripped
The rubber off the telephone wire
And we lost our loose grip
After being shocked
By the rest of the flock
Their existence
Shows a difference
That is hard to accept
We're not what we expect
We push the boundaries of communication
But we can't handle the technology
I feel it gives me social immunization
But I feel the darkness follow me
And swallow me
Until I'm wallowing
Yet I don't know why
I try to ignore it
Only if it gets me high
Will I be for it
This utilitarian keyboard
Should help me see more
Instead it transcribes my anger
As I turn into an electric stranger
The words on my pixelated screen
Do not reflect my childhood dreams
But the bitterness of dreams being crushed
My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed
And I represent my views in a negative way
Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say
There is a need for empathy
In the electronic discourse
Right now there is only entropy
And words without remorse
Spoken from a high horse
That looks down on peasants who own it
It's also a slave but doesn't even know it
So it arrogantly trots along
Never admitting that it's wrong
Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle
Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle
But the venom has already been injected
And its mind becomes hopelessly infected
We argue without blinking
We argue without thinking
We argue with poor logic
Our ignorance we flaunt it
Until the internet is haunted
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
"Has it not never occurred to you," he said, eyes rolling like dice,
"The grab to bake cannot be left undone?
The neck to slip will save the top of leg?
When they lift we ****** the rotten *****
Six trots can win the flat softball netting?
Lost rocks find tabs undone by the grandpas?
It's like unbecomingphilomancy!"
You know what I mean?
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
For Jay - whose light never ceases to shine.
Wounded with darkness
he reflects each light
like a diamond, they say
Oh, what a sight!
He trots down with his black shield
And blunt daggers on his face
He smiles
With such kindness; with such grace
The Man with The Black Shield;
Alas - he's taken a wound to the chest!
He sends shivers to monads
"Hence!, she says, "let him rest!"
The Man's breaths were long -
And unwavered -
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Dit is die trane wat niemand sien nie
Die seer wat niemand voel nie
Dit is die koue gevoel in jou hart
wanneer jy van buite af inkyk *** almal lag
Dit is die eensaamheid op naweke
Die stilte wanneer jy skree
Dit is die afwesigheid van n warm hand
Die oorblyfsels van n gebroke sielsband
Dit is die spasies tussen jou vingers
Elkeen n herinnering van n tekortkoming
Dit is die koue winters alleen
Die somers spandeer onder skaduwee
Dit is die hinkering na "ek is lief vir jou" briefies
Die drome oor die "ek is trots op jou" soentjies
Dit is al die gebroke beloftes
Die "liefde met voorwaardes"
Dit is die idee van *** alles moet wees
Wat keer dat jy gelukkig is
Dit is die wonde wat brand wanneer jy dalk mag glimlag
Om jou te herinner van jou seer se mag
Dit is die donker aande sonder sterre
Jou dood stille foon op die moeilikste tye
Dit is die konstante bevraagteken van jou waarde
Die "gaan nie eers probeer" nie's
Omdat jy voel niemand sien jou raak
En skielik is gelukkig wees, n verbode taak
Maar dit is die leemte in my hart
Die swaarte krag van al die vrae
Die "Opsoek na die vermiste stuk van my legkaart"
Wat die hartste praat
Dit is die gewoonte om te voel jy misluk
Dit is die "minderwaardige" plakker in die plek van jou gesoekte legkaartstuk...
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
The river has no purpose,
no life or feeling.
No meaning, no dreaming,
Nothing with meaning.
What then is the point of this river that trots,
Erodes rocks,
Splashes rapids that flow to a stop?
The river moves.
No do, no see, no be.
The river moves.
No different from you or from me.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
Wanneer n mens jou gedagtes laat dwaal, oor die jarre laat verdwaal dan besef mens weereens die wonderwerke van mense.
Mense wat sterk is, sterker as wat ek is.
Mense wat wense laat waar word, soos in n storie lyn waar alle hartseer verdwyn.
Dan is daar n spesifieke mens wat ek die beste voor wens.
Wat my elke dag laat weet dat pyn mens nie kan terug hou van n lewe vol lewe en geluk nie.
n Ware punt van krag, wat regtig niks terug verwag behalwe die omgee en die liefde van n mens wat niks het om terug te gee behalwe n dankbare hart nie.
Jy is my beste maat, my nooit verlaat, my buddy en my sussie.
Ek is jou grootste fan dall. Beslis is jy alles en meer waarvoor ek kon wens en sal jou altyd lief he en trots wees op jou. 2016-04-16
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,
Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots;
Rhyme’s sturdy ******* fancy’s maze and clue,
Wit’s forge and fire-blast, meaning’s press and *****
2.8k
But she was my lover,
For a moment's time:
Like a dream no other,
In her dreamy eyes.
Her hair so suede brown,
Like sweet chocolate to the air;
Her shirt an lion's gown,
With eyes that cradle everywhere.
Her lips so refined,
As if furnaces her soul from meld:
And remention must her eyes—
Which capture god like citadel.
Oh but when she trots away,
My sadness comes to me,
My heart broken at queens' bay
Where my lover walks away.
Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 12:16 AM UTC
read this to your children its a tale that you can tell all about a fairy and a wishing well
its all about a leopard who one day lost his spots so off to the fairy the poor leopard trots. she took him to the well
to get his spots returned so he could be happy again thats all the leopard yearned.
and as he made his wish in to the wishing well. the fairy waved her wand and cast a magic spell.
when the spell was finished she made him count to ten. when the leopard looked his spots were back again
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:51 AM UTC
four ****** sisters born in the frozen woods;
emerging from the mind of their older sister,
who is also mother
of the universe;
as the fair sun sets & darkness
comes w/ winds
down from mountains; mother running mad [ ]
out to the field,
shouting kinfolk running from everywhere;
the oldest sister Philosophia wondering aloud
about her sister's things
|
scanning the sky w/ her magical eight-eyes; [ ],
Beautia, watching her slyly; sits
beside her w/ two heads, [ ] one in her arm;
it's no wonder [her lover] has [ ]
gone but
appears at her [ ] cracked window
where she ponders snakes & her faint starlit
father's statues of the
monumental men
of old as he imagined them to be;
brawny & vague; -
[that race of giants]
baby sister nature trots down
the mountainside bringing the music;
she-goats following | her dusty trail's
trail [from below the earth - as from above]
trailing their tails & running ahead; mother,
possessed long into the night; [shipbuilding,
sailing & navigating was not accomplished
by trial & error; some higher being had to instruct
[generations have to pass for
mankind to learn one thing] until electricity
men gunned each other down
in the streets & parks
| & used swords [ ]
| the garrulous collection of
hairy morons, | if only
to get them [since the Bomb humanity
hasn't learned a thing; now,
in a new era, [we have yet to learn]
wiping out the race
through **** starvation & ******
in the wide field [ ] of the wide plateau, [ ]
arms spread, | flat on her back where the
genius sky echoes
ring out from the barbarous throat of
the fourth sister
Fortuna, who has seen it all w/ the sun's eyes;
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
I have become a gran again,
To a special girl,
Shes's got warts on her face,
And a squashed-up nose,
And she trots at a fast pace.
She's cute and she's brown,
Apricot to be correct..
I love her so much
Even when she's being greedy,
Which is most of the time
But we keep her in line
As pugs tend to go fat..
And we don't want that,
I find it a joy
To have her stay,
My cat isn't impressed
And does her best
To ignore Peggy the pug,
I hope one day
They will be friends,
As I care for them both,
The love from a pet
Is unconditional,
Their loyalty knows no bounds
To stroke a pet is therapy they say
I know being with Peggy makes my day
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
Ek skrik die 10de Augustus wakker.
Iets voel verkeerd, so swaar, so leeg.
Met 'n knop in my keel raak my gemoed swakker.
Min het ek geweet, dat treur so swaar kon weeg.
Vaagweg **** ek, "I look to you"
"And when melodies are gone"
"I hear you in a song"
Ouma was ons eie Whitney Houston
Haar sterk gees was ons rots.
Al het ons met tye lekker koppe gebots.
Sy was my vestiging, ons familie se trots.
Mag die rose in Bloemfontein altyd ouma se naam onthou.
Die pragtige rooikop dogtertjie in liefde toegevou.
Ouma se omgee het my soveel keer gered.
Die dankbaarheid gekoester in my mooiste gebed.
Mag die voëltjies altyd bly sing
Terwyl ouma se stories mooi herinneringe bring
Ouma was altyd bereid om te help
Vol genade het ouma, harde harte versmelt
Mag oupa altyd verlief bly
Sodat ons verdwaaldes, ook die regte prentjie kan kry
'n 53 - jaar, onvoorwaarlike liefde verhaal
So opreg, en eerlik, die mooiste mylpaal
Dankie dat ouma my aanvaar het vir wie ek is
Al sit ek heel wat die potte mis
Dankie vir alles wat ek by ouma kon leer
Dankie vir elke drukkie, vergifnis, keer op keer.
Dankie vir elke koppie soet tee
Vir al die miljoene trane wat ouma moes afvee
Dankie dat julle vir my alles kon gee
Dat hulle harte net liefde kon skree
Dankie dat ouma my veilig kon hou
Ons verlang alreeds, en sal verewig onthou.
Ons bly, onvoorwaarlik lief vir jou.
Ek gaan ouma mis, al my liefde, Thomas.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
......
In this edge of the end
Where simplicity flows
Through the straight river
The upstream songs
As the ****** sunshine of Lost spring
There today,
Exhausted Myna drying feathers
In the wet air
Sitting on the shade of the window
Steadfast attention on the distant horizon
Slothful day in a comfort bed
With a cup of tea
A longed cigarette,
Romanticism become struck
Outside the open window
Inside out
Light clouds of August
As if the "will" cradling to and fro
Dropping the ageless poetry
Filled with the words of dance
Rain comes down on the unleash field
Essence of mystic tunes flowing
From the tearful trots of rains
Moving, Flooding
The both sides of the river
..............
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Jag går såhär, dag efter dag.
Det känns i varje andetag.
Vinden i ditt hår,
varje liten tår.
Jag vill låta dig gå
men trots allt gör det ont ändå.
Jag vill bli kvitt denna smärta,
men den kommer alltid finnas i mitt hjärta.
Det känns i allt jag gör.
Jag går såhär till den dag jag dör.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
She stands with dignity in the middle of the field
Perks her ears at the sound of my boots.
She swings her big head toward me and looks.
I whistle to her, knowing it will never work.
She will wait for me, but never come.
I approach her and slip the halter over her ears,
Kiss her nose.
I brush her graying mane, and try to pretend she is not old.
And she trots with pride and
Is not embarrassed when she trips.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
*Here the horse munches the grass
little knowing the trots of yore
for time when lays the bricks with curse
unhinges the strongest door.
Here the horse is tethered to feed
little hearing the neighs of past
for time when crumbles sows a seed
grows new order from soil of dust.
Here the horse lazes in sun
little seeing the shadow's growth
for time when ends a period's run
buries in the walls a lover's oath.
Here the horse walks in a round
little feeling the earth's spin
for time when shrinks the highest to ground
kingdoms fall in heaps of ruin.*
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 4:33 AM UTC
A merry forest pig was he
he woke up very early and hunted until three
snorting, sniffing, the air he's whiffing
never is he ruffled, only focused on his truffles
He goes **** rumping
grunt, grunting for truffle - O's!
Wild he runs and trots the greeny forest
with a jolly jig he wriggles and digs
his cloven hooves moving dirt like lightening
hunt, hunting for truffle - O's!
When at last he finds his gourmet morsels
a squeal is heard and fly the birds
clear from the forest, a happy hog
a squealing song of treasures found, his beloved
Truffle - O's!
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
midnight black arabian prince,
his neck, impressed by the wired
fence
holding him back forever
from the woman of his dreams.
dark horse
they came for him in the evening
soft, dimming sunlight grazed his eyes
an endurance horse, for one hundred miles
they wanted him but
he was lazy
his inclination was to stand still
to stroll slowly about a green pasture
forevermore
forevermore, his dream,
spent on his own name.
he fell in love with the mare
on the other side
of the wired fence
she teased him, an older woman,
awakened his rebel soul,
inspired to break out
of this arbitrary cage
his courage and his passion
only roused by love by desire
something a human would not understand
could not understand
not in the same way
he felt alone he felt trapped inside himself
so he tore down the fence,
cut his legs on the wires
just to be close to
her
to brush his nose against her
sharpened spine, inhale the scent of
dust mixed with love mixed with
pheromones,
for only a moment
that could extend into
forever
encapsulated in his memory
a snapshot: one piece
of chaotic bliss
amidst all that running
the flying floating cloud of dust
still chases him.
though he no longer runs in fear
no longer gallops away,
lazily trots, hooves dragging sand,
happy under his bold, italian rider
she doesn’t come around
often enough.
today he is young but
soon he will be aged by experience,
wherever they send him,
he has no real home,
only belongs to the night sky,
only matches the color of darkness,
i hope he remembers the way i tickled his lips and
fed him handfuls of dead grass.
he could be gone tomorrow because
animals do not choose their homes anymore.
Mar 24, 2022
Mar 24, 2022 at 7:02 PM UTC
The Stag trots across a bleached horizon
Howling into the wind with echoes that curdle blood
Its form is liquid nightmare, drenching snow in ebony flood
Wispy vapor flares around antlers of pure, lucid black
Moonbeams shimmer off plumage fraught with drear
Violet feathers assure that bizarreness the Ravenstag does not lack
Dark fangs ravage human flesh, infecting tissue with fear
The Wendigo glides past fallen pine and split oak
Its viscous hooves leave tracks of unearthly essence
Through white deserts flecked with red and bodies left to soak
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
hidden from human sight
whilst glowing like a candle in the night
a ghostly wolf floats through the woods
staying to the shadows
as rays of light dance round her
a wolf white as frost pauses by the water
she lowers her head and sees a burning sky mirror
in the distance bells toll from a church
the clip clop of hooves on a bridge spanning the lake
as white wolf pauses... lifts her head
water drips golden ripples
the night settles soft as a raven's wing
as the cart sounds drift slowly away
leaving the sweetly singing woods
crickets loud in the gloom
as wolf waits sniffing the breeze
her spirit calling from a secluded glade
she walks alone her family now gone
all souls lost in a hunt
now she trots slowly in gathering dusk
each step brings her closer to her heart
a lone gray wolf pup in a hidden den
...awaits her
by l. b.
sept 3 2012
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
the leopard he his lovely with all his little spots
all along the jungle he just gently trots
looking for his pray then he begins his chase
changing up a gear for a faster pace
he likes to hunt at dark hunting through the night
looking for a feed with his nocturnal sight
they just love to climb high up in the trees
sitting on the branches in the summer breeze
such a lovely creature with his coat of gold
a lovely piece of nature a creature to behold
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
A tired dog trots through
a gas station parking lot
panting for water
but no one can spare
any, or even care
But don't mind me
I'm just passing through
Such a harmless thing to do
And dried blood washes off your hands
but it's okay 'cause you've got plans
for a better world
plans for your better world
But don't mind me
I'm just passing through
Such a harmless thing to do
Prisms of plastic make--
nothing; rainbows are fake
I'm stuck in my head, my fear
I might just take
the next exit out of here
But don't mind me
I'm just passing through
Such a harmless thing to do
Motivated to be peaceful by
an illegal state of mind
if the world was safe
I'd be doing my time
But don't mind me
I'm just passing through
Such a harmless thing to do
I don't think it's possible for us
to grow into a foresty place
but I've been wrong before.
No one wins in the human race
But don't mind me
I'm just passing through
Such a harmless thing to do
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
The horse is chasing the jockey
Horse has a lotta moxy
Trots round like she is real foxy
Jockeys chase her down
his play gets old makes her frown
Turn of roles excites her soul
Riders line up but she cannot be found
Prize horse everyone thinks is trick
She runs when things get thick
Horses chase a finish line
Panting hard before the finish line
Wanting nothing more than to win the chase
Watch the smile grow on her face
As she chases that jockey down
Nudges with her nose and knocks him down
Wanting nothing more than to feel his hair
Wave and wander all over this mare~
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC