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On Writing And Words Nature Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Nature

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Details | Verse | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?

Details | Haiku | |


Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....

Details | I do not know? | |


are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Details | Free verse | |

Grand Canyon

Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.

Details | Tetractys | |

The Sun I See

                                                           rays pour
                                                  through the branches,
                                                          I sit under
                                    trees and paint the horizon with my pen.

                               Strokes from my ink flow to each curve I write,
                                                     as drips from the
                                                           sun color
                                                              all I

Details | Free verse | |

in the farmer's song

so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart

Details | Free verse | |


O impetuous Muse surround me
with ashes of moody youth
Recall silken moments,
 uncertain, where 
marbled words wrote
an elaborate history.

Nectar thoughts,
 not moments, dappled drab
where ruined feathers in darkness dwelt.
Ornate  years of passion, spilling fire
allusive to all consuming ire.
When summer spoke,
when spring day-dreamed
and Autumn kissed me with
gaudy leaves.

Swift and sweet, how memories rise
diamond- strung in a room of silver
Slick and sleek from a stormy world,
 solid tree trunks on a bell- clear morning.
Blithe, dramatic, reckless dreams
 flowing with precocious,
 peculiar streams
 Luxurious with sadness,
 time’s cruel wheel
  rolls vast recollections 
 that slowly  yield
 cold, closed canyons of
endless  truths,
touched with the starry
  kiss of  youth.

Suzanne Delaney

for Harry

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Patricia Adams - An Alaskan Light ... '

She, Of The Cosmic Essence
Aware Of A Power
Aware Of A Presence
And Aware Of The Need For Our
Desire To Rise Higher
… and Higher
To Our Optimum Height
Patricia … You Are Like The Alaskan Lights
Those Northern Flares and Colors In Cold Night 
Floating Dreams, So Mesmerizing
Patricia, Brings It To Her Poetic Themes
Such Are The Verses She Shares To View
And Reading Them, She's Showing You
Her Cosmic Essence Insight
Oh Patricia, You’re An Alaskan Light …
So, Keep Reaching, Keep Speaking … and Write !

For The Girl, Who Shared A Comfy, Snug Book Read
On One Of Her Snowy Days … (Via Her Poem- ‘Autumn’s Passing’ 
Also - Your Poem ‘Journey’ is One)
See … It Brought Back Some Wonderful Memories To Me …

                   Your Poet-Friend,
                           The  MoonBee

Details | Senryu | |

' Raul Moreno, Poet - Sensei ... ' 56th Senryu

‘ Raul Moreno, Poet- Sen•sei … ’   56th  Senryu

   Like Marco Polo
Haiku Master, Moreno
Explores Nature’s Show

From Magnanimous Me (he! he!)  (LOL)
             Love Your Poetry, 
        Your Poet-Pal, MoonBee

Details | I do not know? | |

Grunt's Garden

So thoughtfully busily going to the tomb
Were you enamored with words from the womb
Verbally gurgling did you succumb
Or did it come later in life
Likened to lightning spelling you under
Suddenly there before hearing the thunder
Rapidly vapidly words in your head
Were ringing and clamoring yet to be said

At work in your garden editing hedge 
Trimming  unwanted excess 
It smacks of sedition this growing ambition
To put plants in orderly rowed inhibition
Sun reaching in silent distress

The beauty of discipline held up to view
In close captivated submission
In ranks and in rows uniformly disposed 
Earthbound and holding attention
Yet openly Stubbornly free  
They continue to grow.
To Flander's field poppies
And crosses akin
They are harvests of memory to reap
Promises planted to keep

Details | Haiku | |

' Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

           Understanding A
       Metaphysical Moment …
       … Nature’s Mysteries

                 This Haiku is for:
       The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))


Details | Free verse | |

Night Poem

It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.

So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem

Details | Free verse | |

In the Shallows

           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.

Details | Narrative | |


Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    

Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...

After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "

Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  

My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

Details | Sonnet | |

Granny's Expressings

When you read what I wrote hurriedly sped
Did my soothing idea draw you or not
Maybe laughter or deep thought at what I said
Whatever be the outcome that you got

We are tied together forever friend
Somewhere in the future a thought will come
Maybe when you read of Whip-Poor-Will penned
Or see a sunrise that is so awesome

You'll think of somewhere in long ago past
Having remembrance of a poet who wrote
Of early morn and clouds like veils amassed
Either of how smoothing or how remote

It could be a good thought or depressing
Forever influenced by granny's expressings

Details | Haiku | |

Writer's Block , v.2

quarter moon in sight,
partially hidden by clouds.
just like my verses.

Details | ABC | |

Grandma's Garden


Apples.. beetles.. caterpillars..
daisies everywhere.. 
fertile ground.. hollyhocks.. 
Ivy jumbled kegs..
leafy mint.. nematodes..
quiet rest sunsets.. tomatoes under vines.. 
wheelbarrows.. xanadu yearning zeal!

Details | Lyric | |

The laughing moon

It's here now under a converted sky
Where daylight has loss it’s might
Hours before the green hills had sight, with 
splattered  hints of yellow wild flowers so bright
Now time has casts a different light
It here now where the heavens sings an evening song 
With twinkled lights on a moon lit prong
Dancing stars and dreaming of mars 
Its here on this transformed spot 
I will sit and jot

It is here now as I lay back on this cool grass, and write a story 
with the heavens the color of quarry
Of jeweled eyes in the skies 
that connected to stories, some disguised 
With silver spoons and astrological loons
On dream away, dream on by
to the earths motions and lullabies
It is here now time to take a brake
from life’s work ,and worries and heart ache 
Try it yourself remember when, you were a child
when you looked up the night and smiled amen


Details | Light Poetry | |

' A Metaphysical Moment ...'

‘ A  Metaphysical  Moment ’

A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much

… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea

… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …

A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …

(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))

Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

          Understanding A
      Metaphysical Moment …
      … Nature’s Mysteries

Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:

Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Welsh rill

  old saw

scissored shades of Betsycoed
taste of yester youth's sweet tones
splashing sound of forest water
kissing shining sacred stones

Dreams of swirling druids dancing
in the faery water's rill
flash reflective thoughts of flight
The dragon tears yet spill

The druid hymn of waiting
for greed to die of want
a constant scream of tortured winds
belie the curse of can't

What matters ought to those who fought
and died that I be here
to stand beneath a blazing sky
and gaze upon the Western sea

moments of reflective thought
pondered on expressed and caught
to feed an ever growing need
To dig and rap and plant a seed
That blossoms in another mind
Repeated as the finest kind
to be forever sowing seed
To seed 
And time to spend with thee 

Details | Fibonacci | |

Her Poet

Should be
Your poet,
In thy garden, let 
My muses, as I do now, spell 
For thee, the sweet honey of spring where I humbly come.  

Details | Free verse | |

Behind these eyes

    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Details | Limerick | |

Cheaper To Keep Her (Divorce Club)

(Haiku)- * Motive, infidelity messing with the Queen Bee's Honey*

Queen Bee sits on throne,
Bumble and drone bees as one
Sample flowers dew


(Limerick) - *Admission of guilt leads to compensation*

Indeed this is how the story unfolds,
Pete said, "It's a poor rat with only one hole"...
Love had taught a sad lesson;
Divorce court was now in session,
Judge rules favor, Pete's pockets full of holes...


(Couplet) - *Take vows seriously payback often belongs to Spouse - Queen Bee*

Love said, "Pete too late you've opened your peepers"....
"Man, you should know it was cheaper to please her"!

Submitted for P.D.'s Divorce Club Contest (Haiku-Limerick-Couplet)

Details | Haiku | |


a root of an immortelle 
life’s paradigm

- inspired by Brian Strand's Poetry Of The Noun Contest

Details | Free verse | |


Planning on crossing over
where footprints of night
are ne'er seen...
There fish are spawning
in clear blue stream ~
Surrounded by verdant green;
Nature begins speaking to me.
An antiquated chine-wood bridge
gracefully arches it back
with sturdy braids makes a path ~
That I may cross  to a place serene
Where nightingales and crickets sing
It's a place where I do my thinking
Unafraid to shed my skin ~
by dusk as honey bear I may roam,
by dawn take flight as an eagle
I may be found soaring toward home.
Upon opening mine eyes
I come to realize the colors of the skies
Yes, I've crossed that bridge before

Details | Ghazal | |

How to love

My roots are trembling
through clay orgasm,
tumbling the landslide
that speaks every shake or so.
Leo roars and I await life,
Generic roving rumbles
reminding me of the world around,
but I never remember
how to cling to the ground.

Details | Light Poetry | |


I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...

Written By: Christina A McCullouch 

Details | Free verse | |

the Farmer's field: dedicated to poet James Galvin

picking up his pen, cranking the motor
every grass-plot ready to develop a field
the Farmer jostles on, selecting fertile earth

dust lazing up behind his ink-sower
the sky a translucent tent over his head
the visions he plants
like coarse grain ready to sprout
in the onlooker’s mind

his machine treads parallel rows
each line behaving like another
his machine drops pale seeds
each plant-speck a potential thought-harvest
his machine turns at the earthy corners
each boundary concise and defined

his sowing done at this speckled dye-black field
the Farmer turns his pen to another
transforming the wild prairie
into orderly stalks
waving with whispered timbre

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Details | Free verse | |

Weathered Sandstone

Yosemite’s marvels
glaciers from the last Ice Age
sculpted Half Dome and El Capitan

alas, though I worship the almighty Hand,
I am but sand
     compressed by elements
          solidified by desert sun
               pounded by wind
                    made porous by rain
withstanding, I remain

vessel capturing microscopic organisms
purifier for aquifers
tan, brown and red
camouflaged in Zion Park
filter for nature’s emotions
     heat’s scourge grows
          water’s passion flows
               sandstorm wind blows

yet I am not enraged
     only engraved
uninfected, merely reflective
     poetic words pouring from my cracks
          aged by time
               refined by nature’s whims

from dust I came
and dusty fate awaits
aging poet
weathered sandstone 

Details | Sijo | |

'it is snowing'

* it is snowing snowflakes in my cold and frosty window my world is covered again in white and I wanted to go out oh, looking is pretty . . . so I will just stay in for poetry * Sijo December 6, 2012

Details | Sonnet | |

Sweet Inspiration

As if the words beg to float from my throat, But only spill with the ink of my pen; Only with nature's embrace and sweet coat Do I feel truth form in words and begin. Solitary confinement- I'll find peace; Only within, I can feel the soft hum . . With each stroke, and spill, a gentle release To nature's sweet music, pluck, and soft strum. Nature shall comfort, wherever I go; No matter the warm breeze, or the cold bite. . Caressed by nature, rocking to and fro' While I admire each beautiful sight. So now that no one's here to inspire love, I'll find it around, within, and above.

Details | Shape | |

O h i o

*OHIO*     O     O     OHIO     *OHIO*
 H     H      H     H         !         H     H
 I      I       I---- I         !          I      I
*OHIO*    O     O      OHIO    *OHIO*

Details | Free verse | |

Dripping Pages

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Rhyme | |

Vacancy for Poems

Inspiration is stymied by these walls
Deeper into a depression she falls

All she needs to do is go outside
And on a unicorn she will glide

The splendor below is God’s great gift
And it feels so free to be adrift

Meadow flowers shine in rainbow hues
A lazy dog is taking a snooze

Emerald forests make her smile
Something she hasn’t done for a while

Puffy clouds above release her muse
Imagination does transfuse

The “no vacancy” sign is gone
God’s gifts give impetus to write on

*For Diane Christian’s “Inspiration” contest

Details | Couplet | |

Where does the Time go

I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…

Details | Personification | |

Birth of a Poet

The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”

Details | Rhyme | |

-The Paradox-

What shall be the words of this page,
for nothing at this time comes to light.
I see the world as a stage,
 yet of nothing do I care to write.

This indeed is a rare time for me
for my pen has always come through,
 word after word and line upon line,
each poem,different and new.

Birds in flight and children at play
yet none of this holds my attention.
All to me is empty notice
and hardly even worth the mention.

 A paradox as a poem comes forth
when indeed I had nothing to write.
In this, a small sense of accomplishing
that has rescued me from this day's plight.

Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple

My Wishes are Simple

My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.

My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.

My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.

Details | Quatrain | |


Simplicity in nature such as animals or blossoms
Stimulate a brain blossom translated into poetry
Rhyme, narrative and verse have my thoughts like bright mums
Energize for creation of whimsical concise subtly

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part I

Gathering grey clouds
Whip crack of frothing thunder
Is this Africa?

Details | Haiku | |

The Fox

Curious creature
Insidious in nature
An artful dodger

Details | Couplet | |

The Pleasure Has Been All Mine

<               I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
                 Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views

                 thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
                 or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores

                 maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
                 in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort

                 from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
                 beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark

                observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
                within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice

                seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
                dont let an overpowering object just get away

Written By Katherine Stella  6/26/11

Entry For A Rambling Poet's

Writing In The Sublime

Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Going Home

What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea

Details | Haiku | |

This Place (Haiku)

(Paint me a picture with your words)

Clear rivers of life 
will flow through this handsome place 
Colored with true love 

© Adell Foster

Details | Free verse | |

Sweet Infusion

I breathe in the infused
Essence of my ancestral lands
My heart is as one with its beauty

I long for the feel 
Of natural grass -- beneath my feet
And the sweet floral blends

How--Enticing to the eye’s 
I watch the rain cloud in reddened sky
Bearing the teardrops of heaven

Readying themselves to spill ~
As a sweet tasteless elixir;
Upon the winds, to touch the earthen floor…

I dream, of the cool water’s edge
Watching the fish jumping upstream
While sitting in an old birch tree…

I carry freshly picked berry fruit 
In an old papyrus sack and 
Dance beneath the moon 

I dream of the cool water’s edge
Watching the fish jumping upstream
While sitting in an old birch tree…

I listen to the timber wolf howling in the hills
Possibly in search of his mate ~
I dine on peaches and cream -- it is now getting late…

Drawing fresh water in which to bathe
I grab homemade soap to wash my back
Cleansed, are these ole bones of mine…

Night works its magic: as I climb into my nap-sack, 
Viewing totem clustered stars in form of the bear
I can be found in a state of euphoric bliss –
The crickets’ chip, all is as it should be

While camping beneath the stars of my youth-- 
Accepting of natures sweet infusions…

Details | Free verse | |

The Pristine Society

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

© 2011 JSL

Details | Free verse | |

Beauty in living

Tossing words up
Letting them fall
Softly on paper. 
They whisper of mysteries.

Winnowing grains of thought, 
Felicity in writing, 
Seeds grow to bloom, 
Unknowingly into a garden.

My soul decorated.
Dreams intersected with reality
And I saw, the beauty in living.

Details | Rhyme | |


In a bright studio overlooking the noisy street,
I hide from the living to write with a frantic beat;
loud voices and sounds will subdue before dark...
very sweet is the the melody of the lonely lark.

Even when it snows, the view is quite awesome:
watching snowflakes slowly come down and dress 
trees in glistening can feel lonesome
when every audible sound is hushed by stillness. 

How lovely it is when happy faces peak from windows!
They may seem immensely surprised or stupefied;
and some even open their doors and come outside
to observe the fluffy snow descend on the pines' boughs.   

I pause for another minute, then resume my writing...
it's profound observation that inspires the heart and mind,
giving this motivated poet many ideas of positive feeling;
I sense and absorb them, not noticing kids getting wild.   

In a bright studio overlooking the noisy street,
I fear shadows towards evening when feet
make deep footprints that lead to my stairs... 
and afraid of ghosts, I begin chanting prayers.

Details | Haiku | |

don't shout at the stars

don’t shout at the stars
the words of wisdom-
they’ll teach you

Details | Haiku | |

Dive Deep For Large Fish

dive deep for large fish

surface waters hold minnows

trophies are in-depth



(February 9, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved

Details | Rhyme | |

I Write With My Heart

Beautiful flowers greeted the sun 
as I watched the little children run
Inspired by the warmth of the day
I wrote the first lines along the way

Failing my test in Trigonometry 
I wept under the shade of a tree
Realizing what made it wrong
I finished the first stanza and sang a song

Sailing paper boats along the river
People waited as the cold air made them quiver
I felt their hopes, dreams, and sorrows
I wrote the last lines full of morose

I saw an ambulance in front of our door
I felt my heart trembled in sore
They carried a stretcher...a body covered with white
I stared at those starry stars, and I, continued to write

Details | Narrative | |

The Song Of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.

Details | Epic | |

The Deep South

The deep South has a lot of swamp creatures. The South's got alligators, some frogs, live catfish, bugs (flies, e.g.), and stuff. These here parts have been a part of these Southern United States of America since the Civil War, especially when Abraham Lincoln had freed the African-American ancestors and ended slavery. Going to the deep South is like going to either the Florida Everglades, or a rural Alabama town called Summerdale on a Sunday afternoon. What's so great about the deep South is when he or she is laid back, relaxing for a little while, and drinking a glass of homemade lemonade or sweet iced tea on a hot afternoon. Sometimes, the South maybe a bit boring for some people, but the deep South has many life-changing adventures, especially that of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn" written by Mark Twain. Now, how good is that? Everybody is friendlier in these here Southern parts, that includes the locals who are residing in the deep South. Oh, if only the deep South were to come to the Central time zone. And if there's going to be a party in the deep South sometime soon, it'll be like a Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Louisiana, on a Saturday night during the summer time. Boy, do I love the south. And if the deep South and its rural towns in different Southern states like Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Georgia were to remain a part of these here United States, that would be great.

Details | Verse | |

A Toy Girl

A smooth and soft,
A cheerful and lovely,
Like a red rose,
Her smile was knocking,
My conscientious 
That was toxicating,
And mind likes to talk,
As she was a toy girl.

Praising for her new dress,
Her jewellery and appearances,
Her walking steps,
Started to palpitate, 
A fly with my dreams,
As a butterfly,
Enjoying fragrance,
In a warmth glimmering world.

Details | Bio | |

City Two

leotard atrocities may 
never have been led, 
the path of glory…  
had she not kissed the 
air in alphabetical designs, 

Details | Triolet | |

That you sense my vibes

That you sense my vibes and moves by it,
Doesn't make all my maze the masterpiece,
And doesn't judge loyalty and modesty.
That you sense my vibes and moves by it
Doesn't guarantee pounds and majesty.
Call me back when I err. Therefore,
That you sense my vibes and moves by it,
Doesn't make all my maze the masterpiece.

Details | Haiku | |

April Morning

cherry blossoms burst
blue feathers line a new nest
Madam pens haiku

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part II

The Med between us
The gusts make me think of you
Storms... it’s just like home.

Details | Alliteration | |

No Title

My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead I wonder why I took "the" pen I feel like putting them down What? My thoughts What am I inking? Nothing! Exactly! Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink Singers? Go sing... Comedians? Go do comedy... Others? What's your "itchy paper?" Have you applied your "ink?" Be good at what you do Love what you do Practice... Go scratch it!

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp

Details | Limerick | |

Bad Mood

At first: elated.
Now I sit, deflated;
My inspiration's down the drain.
I'm mad 'cause it's sunny;
I don't think it's funny.
Boy, how I wish it would rain.

Details | Rhyme | |

Writing on Absurdity

Oh so many words to write
On colours so divine I sight ~
	A blue
   A green
           A pastel scene
Some color that’s like whipping cream!

	So eager!
Have you seen her?
Sitting on a rustic fence?
I bet she’s waiting
Being with some handsome gent!

Aligned with sights and sounds I muster,
	Up the strength to write a word
I write them down without a sound
	A thought that’s really quite absurd!

So gander at a gander
So fluffy with its feathers
Beyond the gleaning fields of yellow
                   Not beside that smelly fellow!

A goose is good if you can gander
At it --
With a telescope
	Leave it with a good impression
I’m guessing
   You would like a lesson
In how a duck can dodge a gun --
	They are a duck however, pleasing
However pleasing is a duck?
But if you think about it really
     They can dodge because they 

Details | Cinquain | |


Long days
Of August sun
Where nature blinks and shrinks
The dying grass,yellowed in sleep-
Held fast
Oat grass
Tinted old gold
Shimmers on tall green stems;
On a clear warm light of evening sun-
From each flower hovers
On the drying wind of the breeze-

Details | I do not know? | |


Our lives are like stories 
Like the ones found in books
We all play our part in the plot
But you were a bit more than just a character
Babe, you were a chapter

Chapters begin and end so quickly
So fleeting, like the way we would flirt
A heart-pounding beginning with a dry, cold close

I'm saying good bye 
This is for every time I could have cried
This is for every night that you forgot I exist
But I haven't shed a tear on you and, boy, I'm not gonna try
This is for every single mean thing you say
This is me deciding not to pretend I'm looking the other way
This is something I'm doing for me
So good bye, cause no longer will I be the girl who is blind

The chapter has sealed itself shut
So sit in your room and play some mean songs about me
I don't care, I know somebody with nicer hair

As a kid you must have been the bully on the playground
I'm done being the girl you give affection to and push down 
And I'm tired of standing on the sidelines while you try to run the show
I'm gonna move on with my life 
Prove there are things you will never know
There are things that books can't tell you 
Things only the heart can understand
You don't have one of those
So, pardon me, if I don't consider you a man

The chapter has ended but I won't shed a tear
The future's too bright for me to look back to darkness

Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Baggage Claim

Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival, 
          I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches 
                                                Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
          Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
                                                He holds the key to this new world.

The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience 
          Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped 
                                                Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence 
          Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped 
                                                Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.

My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
          In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
			   Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
          On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
                                                Our intrepid journey commences...

Details | Free verse | |

Scent Of A Korean Tea

See this not as a flattery
Thou, we both know that 
We met, only, yesterday
But truth is I am missing 
You, every night and day

You and only you
I think of no other, as
I spell out 
These words of mine 
My arts, from the heart

You told me 
To gaze the stars
Whilst I begged you 
To ask the birds
How to fly

I remember that night
It’s something, I’ll not forget
The scent of a Korean tea
Brewed, delicately, with love
To sanctify me

It was already two a. m. when I 
Walked home, from your place
Guided by the sleepy moon 
I found out, we passionately speak
Nature’s own language

Details | Verse | |

White Knights

Blanched Bones

We’ve not dreamt the crystal morn,
the tinkling ping of sun warmed ice,
the egg white branch of lilac dipped,
the magic of the wintry day 
which fills the heart with awe.
Such days of silver ice and blue white snow 
the lancing spears of ‘cicle formed
awake are we to majesty, that all too soon is gone.
Gone in graceful austerity, a loveliness all its own,
the white of skeleton, these beauteous bones.

White Pages

Within the pages white as snow
and between the lines as black as coal,
to all the places You have sowed,
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.

Within the turning page we see.
Alight, aflame in harmony.
And friends or foes do go in mystery.
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.

Let me alight in peace with Thee and Poe,
with Kipling’s tales in Just So
with Moses staff and Joseph’s sign
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.

White Sugar in the Morning

The Baker has glazes the brush today
twined vines, the grasses, the forest's trees.
He’s covers every hemlock with white,
downy protection from every breeze

The Baker’s glazes with soft snow of white
like meringue upon every birch twig,
His frosting covers the mountain's sides
no glacial boulder or spruce is to big.

He is top-dressing the architecture;
He's polishing the acres of asphalt.
Yes, the Baker’s glazing the world today
He’s an artisan given to much thought.

Details | Quintain (English) | |

By The Sea

Walking in the surf I'm lost in wonder Secrets veiled in shades of green and blue If only I could see below the surface Mysteries perhaps the mermaids knew.... On the ocean waves a seabird rests In one with the wind and the sea Bobbing about in the rhythm of life As free as only a bird can be.... For me, no better place for writing My muse comes and goes with the tide Enchanted ,dreams soar with birds Here in this place, for this time, I abide....

Details | Haiku | |



cracks reminding us 
a calender hangs silence 
by all irony.


Practice for the blind 
circulation shutting down
shall twist towards plot


Running for their skin,
civilised sugar paper , 
for response alone.


Details | Rhyme | |

Drug of Delight --My Beloved Wish--

You are like my mesmerizing lullaby
You soothe my body…warming me like blankets
You make me die all the time when you prepare to fly
You are making me daydream without ruthless regrets
Your powers are amazing! You can even teach me to fight
With Your thundering might,
You melt away my impassive heart…
Like a candle, scorching with fright
You are like the merry midnight sky
But our merriness broke loose when you waved bye-bye to our friendship
You make me cry in high spirits time and time again…when I receive your reply!
You are inspiring me to take wing like an eagle, but I lost my grip
My emotions are roaming freely…someday I’ll reach to heaven’s height
With your mind-blowing sight,
You shun out the anxiety brewing in my tender heart
Like a dandy candle…a wish that won’t depart

Details | Rhyme | |


It's the desire to do better with a fresh lead
and with success on mind, not thinking of failure:
I find that doorway to escape and dream,
but remaining anonymous is no adventure.

Without impromptu or consciousness,
I wake up to a sunrise which coruscates...
becoming brighter by blinding my sight,
then I become beauty-incarnate and sigh. 

Laying down with the head up on the fresh grass,
I accept another challenge to pursue life and fate...
not seeking a gloomy, clandestine place to face
ignoble fear in a cosmos which was created to elate.

Follow me and experience what makes me wake up and be as happy as a cuckoo,
touch the fragile corolla of daisies and inhale their aroma as dreamers tend to do,
and looking straight up, observe the awesome Universe so vast, beautiful and blue...
won't you take another challenge to pursue life and fate without clashing with a clue?

Details | Verse | |

Why is Law?

A power adopting consent,
For the welfare of all,

To establish equality,
To provide opportunities,
To remove discrimination,
To break down the prejudice barriers,

To build a bridge on gaps,
So anyone a child, young, 
Old, able or disable can walk, 
Freely, with honour of a nation, 

And can adopt a pride of safety,
And can provide security,
It is a lesson for everyone,
To protect society,

From Criminals, robbers,
Smugglers, gangsters, rapists,
For everyone’s share of happiness. 
For a standard for living. 

Details | Narrative | |


The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind, 
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence!  

And still the sea offers them its promise,
a distant shore untouched by man...
by his greedy ways and incompassion,
causing the extinction of many species;
my reflection is based on fact :
we can't survive without them!

The stylish wild birds engage,
as if striken by a sudden rage,
in their frantic, daily dance over the marina,
as I listen the melancholic lyrics of  " Nessun Dorma "...  
the exquisite area of Puccini,
which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli!
 At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline,
the brass lampposts light up with reluctance...
to shy away the presence of any ghost; 
I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides,
hoping someone will find it  and remember my work... 
long after my thoughts will be no longer alive! 

Details | Epic | |

A New Collection to the Eye Forest

Crackling blood lies in these forest grounds
Grass growing by its lively effect…
Growing a grimace to the environment    
As the predators hung her on the branches,
carving her left eye on the oak tree
and carving her right eye on the olive tree

They grow livelier…
sucking up the carrions from off the ground
Drowning the vines that try to 
suffocate and remove them for life
left to be in history…unceasingly forgotten 

Now the forest has industrialized into an Eye Forest
Eyes protruding…extorting on the tree trunks
Liquefied by anguish…they had wished to escape
Their pupils punctured by arrows of death 
They grow more affectionate towards the lively soul… 
watching people suffer in indignity and disproof
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
Hunted by the worst predator out there
in the deepest of the forest

The eyes seem to stare into your own
Locked with your frightening vibes 
Feeling your dangling fears and pain 
Weeping them insane…
there is no one out there to be blamed,
even in the deepest of the forest

Oh you carrion heart, soul and body
you are accepted to the collection
and grow insanely and look into a world of reflection

You are one of those who lie in the midst of obscurity 
JUST wait till the day of Resurrection... 

Oh you carrion soul and body 
Surviving through the shadows of the forest, 
roaming along the compacted forest, 
moping about in displeasure 
because without a doubt 
you are a magnificent collection 
to the eye generation 
to look upon a cheerless, remorseful life,
Given away by the predator

They soon diminish the evidence…
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
You’re left for dead after all

Allow them to spread one of your eyes
on this tantalizing tree
Let them do their job as a hunter
Your awareness is diminished

Allow yourself to not be startled 
Lose yourself,
and later on, you’ll break free of pain and fear

Details | Free verse | |


An instrument of beauty,
poetry is art at its best
with its verses of passion
penned with love
in assorted and variegated
metrical composition
with sublime and
aesthetically satisfying flow.

It is a creative exposition 
that unfolds and enlightens
with enchanting constructs 
the demonstrative and
effusive characterization 
of language by utilizing, 
promoting and bestowing 
the nature and power of words.

Proclaiming ideas and ideals
of principled excellence
with creations anew
and history of old,
poetry exhibits an appetite
for knowledge and wisdom
and a profound propensity 
for purposeful revelation
with an insatiable desire
for intimation and meaning
displayed with heartfelt emotion.

With its aspiration to show case
in magnificent scribal splendor,
poetry entices and compels
the artist and consumer
to explore and transcend
imagination and intrigue,
and solicit introspection
with unfathomable penetrating thought 
that is calmed by grace and elegance.

Philosophical and spiritual,
entertaining and healing,
poetry commands laughter and tears
or sorrow and joy,
Its clamorous and powerful
phonologically expressive morphemes
can awaken and stir passion and romance
or summon logic and reason.

resplendent in wisdom, 
captures love,
inspires hope,
provoke curiosity,
resonates drama,
evokes mystery,
uplifts spirits
and expresses grief.
So magnificent,
so powerful,
so wondrous
is the nature and
the majesty of poetry.

Details | Bio | |

Artificial Intelligence

A mind will listen by expanding 
knowledge to learn; or explore 

In these teachings of technology
we figure out what we know is:
just A various combination of what
was programmed into our mind.

As time passes, we'll adjust to
evolve ourselfs into becoming
artificial intelligence; amoung
society and indulge it's greatest

Until they soon take mind; over
body and loose all self~control
to empower the world.

I will not be your robot to control, 
I am my own individual person.

Details | Romanticism | |

One Summer Day

I want to muse—
wearing eye-glasses, but 
urge my pen for words that guide 
to sea of love. Sun makes 

her lips fiery, we sip 
the day, 
swallow it, childishly! Hmm, Nitz’s heart 
pumps out breath, holding our souls 

like victims for ransom. Ah, 
etching our aliases in the sudor like wine 
on the lustful spread of green, I 

look for the cheerful shadow 
of sky, as we dress our minds 

with chrysanthemum of a summer day.

Details | Free verse | |

Strictly for my love

Just look for the stars and count them If they are many, That’s how countless and endless ma love is to you If they are few, That’s how rare my kind of love could be If there are two, That’s me and you If there is one, You are my only love If there is none, Then so is my love, Second to none… You are my all in all… I love you!

Details | Sonnet | |

On A Detail In A François Boucher Painting

Poems ascend in luminous sapphire skies 
As prettily as any Boucher dove
In flight eternal.  The artist's strokes devise
Each beauteous form to represent great love.
How many shades of light, how many hues
Playfully linger on each feathery wing?
Such subtle shadows!  Gentle tones infuse
The senses, sweetly prompt the soul to sing.
Cherubs frolic, blissful, plump and pink,
Companions to each poem or lovely bird,
Painted in Master's oils, or pen and ink,
They celebrate that now their song is heard.
Once seen, once read, no one can rend asunder
These artefacts portraying Nature's wonder.

Details | Free verse | |

Touch of the Soul

I alone stand vigil over the memories of my past;
I alone feel the weight of them,
feel what it is to be
the man that past has created.
I stand, alone, beneath the stars and the moon,
contemplating all, as I ever have done;
it is only now that I've accepted
that's who I am meant to be;
the writer, the poet –
I stand with the rest of the dreamers.
I sit, alone, among the instruments of music,
playing on and on throughout my life;
music flows into and through my soul,
and I am now and will always be,
the musician and the bard –
I sit with the rest of the drummers.
I travel, alone, with the remembrances of love,
searching always for that one true other;
it is only now that I've accepted that even
without one such, I can live;
the romantic, the sentimental –
I travel with the rest of the passionate.
I escape, alone, in the pages of a good story,
reading for ever and anon;
books speak to me, engage me,
entertain me, release me;
the storyteller and the listener –
I escape with the rest of the readers.
I will fight, never alone, next to my brothers
and sisters in arms;
it is with all of myself that I've accepted
my duty, and who I will always be;
the soldier, the guardian –
I will fight with the rest of the Marines.

I dance, run, walk, laugh, alone, in the rain,
let loose my being in the deluge;
the storm's fury and glory
somehow become my own;
the drenched, the soaked –
I do all of this with the rest of the rain lovers.
It is only now that I've accepted
that I have become
who I was meant to be;
who I want myself to be.
I alone know what it is to be
myself, Andrew James Sprouse,
scion of the sea and of the past,
of the word and the sword.
But I do not alone know what it is to feel alive;
to be exactly who you are,
who you're meant to be.
I do not alone know the truth of pain.
None of us stands truly and utterly alone.
Every single one of us walks, arm in arm,
with those who share your experiences,
your beliefs, your thoughts and your lives.
But you, alone, know what makes your heart free,
what makes your fire ignite and your essence true;
you alone know the visage and touch of your soul.

Details | Haiku | |

Happy New Year - Poetry Contest Ends 12.31.08!!

first day of the year
a snowflake falls
onto my shawl


Details | Free verse | |

Latenight No3

I can fill a page or two
with professions of how beautiful
the snow is,
how it's what we prayed for
and what we were promised
from inside the walls of our detention cells.
It's so beautiful
can you not believe it?
I heard it was to keep on falling
till the townsmen started calling
a-rocking the phones off their places of rest
and onto the tile
Let's hope that come tomorrow
the buildings I live my life in
have been totally smothered,
blanketed in a white so pure
that the angels themselves would take it up as garb
after just one look
and let's hope that these words
aren't just a cry for credit
and that I haven't just been spitting slop
to fill a page or two,
course I haven't even done that yet...
Good night, sky
Please keep spilling your sh1t
till the lunar eclipse;
now I'd say that's about a page.

Details | Free verse | |

No Enlightened Poet am I Proclaimed

No enlightened poet am I proclaimed,
Rhyming high-flown philosophies in poesy,

(Instead, I only scratch out my words
In verses of winds and scents of spring--

Of the shades of the light crowning wintertime clouds,
Sing the grace of the wings in a homecoming sky.)

For I am no more a poet than you,
And you, with your verses, no more than I.

(And so I write of the white blush of moon
Not referencing love, neither lost nor found

And rhyme the rhythm of the lapping sea
With the throb of the heart in the desert heat.)

For what more, oh poets, are poems than beauty?

(Write: The ethereal river spills sheens iridescent
Beneath the expanse of the heavenly lights)

And what more than beauty is life?

(Breathing perfumes and sparkles of nectars and grass 
Spelling effervescence within the infinite hues.)

Details | Ode | |

as quiet as he ever was

tightrope typography; 
the arbitrary doyens of 
fallacious complexion… 
perpetually soaked 
in gin perked rum… 
inelegantly smeared 
across glass bled eyes… 
purely out of interest… 

the bluish flaccid
moonlit regatta;
whistled and sold…
whistled and cleansed…
privy to atonal acronyms 
and consummated progress…
as quiet as he ever was…
purely out of interest… 

Details | Haiku | |


heady perfumes rise
sweet gardenia scents the air
helplessly I sneeze

Details | I do not know? | |

Quiz 7 New Clue

It's a grand thing, yes, it is.

Details | Free verse | |

That Old Willow Tree

That Old Willow Tree

A place of solitude
Down by the swamp
A willow tree grows among the weeds
Branches reach to the sky
Fronds hang down reaching for the earth below
Birds live and sing in her branches
Shade loving plants grow at her feet
It is so pleasant on a hot August afternoon
The perfect place to just sit and think
Maybe paint a beautiful landscape
Or even an inspired poem
Such a place exists only for the artist
There aren’t many in our hectic world
They have been paved over
Polluted so that the beauty is long gone
Or just lost to everlasting progress
If you find a place like that old willow tree
Love it and go there for moments of solitude
Think about what nature has given you for that day
Because tomorrow it may be gone
And you may sit at the foot of a parking meter
But it will never be the same

Details | Free verse | |

Here on Ellesmere Island: A Facebook Status

I come back to this page, again
and again, wondering
if anyone cares, least enough
to leave a message,
but I don't even care myself... 

and so days can turn to months
and the silence remains real-

as in Baffin Island,
where the bones of cold are laid,
and Barrier Lake, where murder is common
among the homeless 

but learning silence, isn't
easy, as even wolves are
meant to howl, 
and recite their foul vowels,
until the wind picks up
their tune,

Here on Ellesmere Island,
nothing is said, 
even quiet poems
are seldom read.

Details | Free verse | |

Wind and Climate

We sat there on the sandy throne 
As gathering pebbles and seagulls stood
Wondering without a care in the world
A sun blasted sky upon enthralling waves

Heat for bodies that sprawled on mud
And watch passively for the year to change
Or recovered from the throat of a bottle
Jesus drenched with liquor and war

The municipals carved firmly with precision
Definite upon the land's presentation
Capped the gust of motor pipe wind
Residential monopoly for those with eyes

Workers lifted about, heads drifting
The live in barter for compensation 
As animals raced into sensation
Crows and dogs unconcerned about the wind

Details | Rhyme | |

attending the now

rain drops due cause the dew thickens
 in the morn light barely flicking, misting
crickets stop in thickets and listen
stillness of the moment sundials ticking
presence of the motion constantly spoken
loads of odes a la mode  left open
soaked in a coat my hope approaching
light broke I awoke and eloped with odin
my lips sealed no promises broken
mind in a frenzy, excited for devoting
more meaning in the fire, desire is stoking
lines that humble me, released emotions
spiritual language, balanced ascending
challenge amending, talented bending
of words I've heard or purged for an ending
my muse eludes to conclude  I'm attending

Details | Senryu | |

the wrong cawl-ing

they don't speak at night                                                                                                 conclusion animal not                                                                                                                    pretenders are lost

Details | Rhyme | |

The Sun's Rays

The sun’s devouring rays
Reveals an astounding sensation against the marvelous universe
It caresses the earth with warm hugs and gives life to the motionless gaze
Its auras are above nature’s designating exteriors
Its swaying beauty is beyond Earth’s inhabitants, deserving my praise

It treasures the sky with joyousness and forms swarms of jeering birds
The sighs of the wind attracts clamoring herds

The sun’s appalling flames
Unshackles a zealous tune that reveals the Earth’s accord
It embraces the atmosphere with remarkable claims
Unraveling my curiosity; my ears are pleading to hear more, so I go forward!

It prizes the ocean with eagerness and forms swarms of screeching seagulls 
The strength of the waves draws in scorching souls 

The sun's unattainable rays 
Motivate life to trail on till its duty is done
Its auras seep through the whirling sky and strays
Embracing ambitious love like a father and son  

Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Simple Unoccupied Bench

The simple bench sits
Unoccupied now
Classic table holds
Intent to write poems

Light sweater blown
Onto yellow
Roses, walkway
Empty no one

Garden neat
Perfect plants
Fenced closed

Where is.......


("The Bench"(The Garden Of Versailles) Edouard Manet (1832-1883/French) Oil On Canvas)

Details | Couplet | |

A quickie for two

Agile feelings all alone
Fragile living on my own 
Fickle fingers typing thought
Meaning, depth and insight sought
Drowning sorrows, quicksand driven
Floating promise slowly risen 
Words contained, but yearn to fly
Caged, the birds in my mind’s eye
Burn the rust within this soul
Combust with freedom, make me whole
Transform this canvas, recreate
Brand the keeper of this gate
As art well sculpted by brain power
Planted seeds that sprout to flower
And nurtured by an inner voice
Where roots grow deeper, fed by choice  

Details | Rhyme | |

Footprints in the Snow

There are footprints in the snow;
whose they are, I do not  know.
Some are human, some are not;
Some are buried, hard to spot.

Since I haven't been around,
Feet or paws have tramped the ground,
Possibly in search of food
Or to seek some solitude.

Either way, they've left their mark,
Lending me the proper spark,
Waking up my appetite
And the urge to sit and write.

So I offer up my thanks
To the creatures from whose ranks
I've gotten wind, with gentle hints,
They've paid a visit, leaving prints.

Details | Quatrain | |

Excuse for not writing

There is little excuse that I can give
For not having written as of late,
Except that my pen has been out of order,
Correlating with the date.

To understand, you must consider:
My pen is made of magic steel
That can predict seasonal change
By changing how its surface feels.

In the spring, the pen is sticky,
As if it were covered in honey sweet,
And in the summer the metal is scorching,
Buring whatever surface it meets.

In autumn season, the metal turns red,
Like the leaves that are destined to fall,
Then  in the winter, the pen will freeze to my skin,
And I can't put the thing down at all.

Details | Bio | |


I walk  in the pathetic pages of a used tired book
Crushed by the heavy leaves that lied to me
The older I become, the angrier I see
orange, red, yellow peeling 
Panting, painting, pelting poems
against a soggy canvas and sagging
lines like tired feet held together with
sad gray shoes

We're the oldest ones here
The doctor is so young
The lawyer is a child
The children are all grown
My grandbaby is going to college

Still when I brushed my hair today
and sashayed by you
a lilt to my tongue and a 
swagger in my lips
I curved a kiss to you and 
blew an ocean of windtossed

I scooted under them
like a silly child
Smelling the earth
Rooting like a piglet

When did Tubman push her
passengers along
Putting nails in trees to indicate
the turn in the fog
the fork in the road

If she could work into 
the autumn and beyond
Why kant I rite the lanterns 
of my life?

And in autumn
You don't need permission
To fall and land in earthy

Staggering, solemn, orange
Reborn like a felled tree

Details | Rhyme | |

A Blank Page

A blank page,
A fresh start,
A canvas for the heart.

Simple beauty sustained.

No blemish on reflection.

No telling,
What future storms rage,
On a blank page.

Details | Free verse | |

my favourite path

i see it before me 
i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction 
it is clearly there for me to do so 
the decision 
can stray left or right of the way I go 
and all I know 
is that it starts 
before me

Details | Couplet | |

From the top of my heated head

I thank you all for allowing me
An astutely marvelous opportunity
To spark synopses atriums
And bounce ideas from craniums
That is the mattress under lights
Where rocket ships prepare for flight
They launch for space in peaceful moods
And head for bulbs of orbing moons

Like moths that orbit thought balloons

Details | Imagism | |

Day birth

the dawn burst thrust through
the belly of the night
wary by the abiding presence
of hosts of milkyway and the mighty moon
the morning break forth
like the chick from its shell
setting free and loose
the dictatorial sun
in a long reign with enchanting energy
and wanton warmth
behold!  to us, a new day is born

Details | Pantoum | |


Vivid imagination spins,
when one creates
a fine literary work...
life would never be happier.

When one creates,
ideas keep on flowing...
life would never be happier
with thoughts swifter than light.

Ideas keep on flowing
like water from a waterfall
with thoughts swifter than light
I am glad to reach my home.

Like water from a waterfall
that's pure and refreshing
I am glad to reach my home
without worry, sadness or doubt.

That's pure and refreshing 
as I drink it with great delight...
without worry, sadness or doubt,
to satisfy my unquenchable thirst.

I'm still writing my first Pantoum,
seeing shadows advancing...
without worry, sadness or doubt,
I pay more attention to form than rhyme.

Perched on the power line, owls stare at me
and wonder what I am doing at such hour
by this bright
vivid imagination spins.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

come listen to the music

I hear the music of the heavenly angels 
Coming softly through the blue sky from above 
Blending with the music from on the mountain tops 
Bringing to all earth's people messages of love. 

The song birds are singing to the angels' music 
Telling us to hear the words of truth very clear, 
"All of earth's people are more alike than different 
And to help each other will leave no room for fear". 

Come listen to the music of quiet gentle breezes 
And music from wild flowers growing on the hill 
Whispering softly to awaken our spirits 
Saying, "Only listen and let your hearts be still

Details | Free verse | |

Life Imitates Art A Humble Tribute to Oscar Wilde

O thou proud Nature
Rolling in ashes of long-burnt
Fiery love of yourself
What are you boasting of?

Thy greenery? 
That’s nothing but
Wooden rotten figures 
With wrinkled claws
Scratching the Earth’s breast
Fumbling for manure
Water-thirsty vampires
Destined to be strangled
By the icy hands of snowy demons!

Thy mountains?
They’re nothing but piles of dust
Proud of piercing the clouds
Forcing a heavy load
On the Earth’s shoulders
Yet, trodden by every foot
Crushed by every step
Dumb megalomaniacs
Whose sole voice
A mere echo 
Dies in an instant
Not long enough to be heard!

Thy clouds?
Those plump, haughty phantoms
Wishing to display their mighty wrath
Pat each other on the shoulders
And roar to shake and shock
The creatures beneath
Yet melt in their rages’ climax
And weep for their untimely death!

Thy far stretching seas and oceans?
They’re nothing but tiny trivial
Drops of water
Gathering to form an impressive identity
By losing their own!
In the depth of their watery heart
Lay their so-called treasures
Which being nothing but shipwrecks
Make them pleased
With their great triumph
Over helpless, wooden toys!
Their anger is masterfully portrayed
By raising their eyebrows 
Frowning and foaming desperately
To impress the captains
By their magnificent personality!!!

Thy Sun and Moon?
They are nothing but boring circles of light
One too lazy to move
One too transient in mood
One entangled in the boggy kingdom of his own flames
One begging hopelessly for a beam of light
One pleased with burning the eyes
One trained in fooling the wise

Now behold
That every single monument of thy greatness
That makes your eyes glow with pride
And your heart beat with pulses of joy
Is nothing but an illusory mirage

Were it not for the sweet words of poetry
Coupled with the melodious rhythm of embedded lyres
Were it not for the winged metaphors
Hand in hand with the marble fingers of imagination
Were it not for the poet’s discerning eye
To see in thee what thou hast not
Thou would not be seen,
Thou would not be loved…

Details | Free verse | |

For Sweet November Rain

Yes, I remember…
I’ve a sonnet of us, rhyming
silently, across the vast blue sky
in waiting, eagerly 
for sweet November rain.
We knew, we both
have the need to feel 
what’s good to be touched… 
the truth was, by the way,
I enjoyed the beat.
We danced, whilst the noon birds warbled, 
with unchained melodies, as the passing wind 
gently rippled the field’s golden hair, till we 
settled, ourselves, into a naked ritual, exaggerating much 
the vers libre it was leading us, before
finally, we wrestled the night, with an adieu kiss.

Yes, I remember…
I’ve a sonnet of us, for 
sweet November rain to cleanse and freshen
the wrinkles we left on a golden field, of tares, 
…for its next transients!  

Details | Narrative | |


In June everything was festive and green,
a patch of deep blue couldn't  be seen...
the struggling sun was kept off, with dire,
by a dense foilage of emerald;
and the robins competed with the blue-jays
to harmonize a new song with notes
that even a great composer couldn't write...
Oh, how I loved that sweet sound!

Auburn trees in Fall showed a dull color
andulated by the softest wind,
which wasn't as perfumed as that of spring,
and its sadness was compensated by a beauty,
which inspired a poet and a composer
to write it with a tender melancholy;
and I jotted down the impressive images
of a peaceful Nature that revealed its loveliness!

The freight trains scurred through the defoliating forest,
I found a massive rock and laid my body to rest;
and finally those struggling sun-rays
broke through to warm my forehead quickly:
so glad to have seen, with awe and curiousity, 
the forest's beautiful and swift creatures
storing away food for those gloomy winter's days!...
Oh, how happy I felt to have been the wanderer of the forest! 

Details | Haiku | |


They tap this mind when
peace stirs mystery and fear...
they spring forth and flee.

Details | Haiku | |

' Uni-Verse...' (Haiku # 11)

   ‘ Uni-Verse ’   Haiku  # 11

        Oh, What Universe
What Grand Word, Did God Speak First
     ... Gave Beginning – Birth !

Details | Lyric | |


I felt a drunkard in my fanciful sixth sense.
The pond seemed to me the Sea of Aegean
And the floating leaves warships of Greece,
Thousands in number that fought for Helen.

Now, my mind finds infinite amidst finite
And beholds freedom in a free flying kite,
Discovers beauty in a dazzling little dew,
In metamorphoses of bug seeks life anew.

Slowly, my outer sight sinks in shadow
As the closing eyelids sleep in meadow.
Eyes are closing only to open in insight
As if bathed with celestial divine light.

Details | Rhyme | |

I'll Follow You Like Your Duckling

I'm like your duckling, dear 
I follow wherever you roam so have no fear
I'm your duckling, so don't disappear 
Be my dependable leader
I'll stick around and I'll abide by your side
Like a shadow...(3)
Wie ein Schatten...(2)

I mimic like your duckling, beloved
I swim wherever you paddle so slip on my gear
Be my trustable coach 
I'll follow your routine and float by your side
Like a reflection...(3)
Wie ein Spiegelbild...(2)

I'll follow you wherever you flee
Just signal where we ought to be
I'll follow you wherever you take wing
Just push me back and forward like a swing
Lift me up and pull me down
And I'll follow you
Like your pesky duckling

Take wing, my darling angel 
I'll watch your Devine flight and wave a farewell 
Someday I'll dwell with you 
But I'll be your duckling and will always have you to turn to
Like a hero! (3) 
Wie ein Held! (2)

Like a shadow...(3)
Wie ein Schatten...(2)
Like a reflection...(3)
Wie ein Spiegelbild...(2)

I'll follow you like your ugly duckling

Details | Haiku | |


rainmakers rattle
in the hot summer sunshine~
crows cavort in the corn

Details | Haiku | |

Rustling Leaves

Twisting and turning,
My autum leaves make their way,
With their bright colors.

Details | I do not know? | |

Life In Squalor

Squatters acquire the land
And no questions are asked.

Hovers litter the place
And open drains greet the eyes.

Stench queezes the life
But sellers defy the odour;
Frequent epidemic and death,
But the population continues to grow.

Nobody to care;
No questions are asked;
Sheer naked life,
Ever ready for the end.

Details | Limerick | |


Sky blue and baby's breath breeze
It's my time to do as I please
Pull my head from the sand
With pen in my hand
And lines from the grass on my knees

With hedges and fences to hide
My garden, it fills me with pride
Inspires me to write
even by moonlight
I still dont want to go inside

For I have no eye on the time
And a mental 'Do not Disturb' sign
With Rhymes and Haiku's
I've nothing to lose
The long day ahead is all mine

22nd June 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Your Insight

You are powerful even in the darkest of days... I prayed for Your insight
Night and Day...every pondering moment.
You responded to my prayers in many unique ways...You made my spirit take flight 
What should I say? You scrubbed off my lament. 

You relieved me from distress
You fearlessly strengthened my hope 
and frayed my fear
Now I'm in high spirits with freewill and delight...
and I must confess
You wiped away the boundless tears, shattering my negativity...
your love is crystal clear now!

Am I still that hovering angel...yearning for some light?
Am I still that naive spirit, giving in to the darkness and seeking plight?

I know God loves me, but I doubt Him still
God revealed His love with my whole family...but i don't feel right
I know God cares for us, I see no sign of Him or His will... 
God dealt with us with patience and kindness, but I can't yield on to His radiance so full of might

You are fruitful even in the darkest hours...I prayed for Your delight
To fall upon me day and night...effecting my every thought process
You promised me Your blessings and upcoming Kingdom every time I consider Your Word... You made my dreams come true and lingered around me despite
My bitter, spiteful words that I didn't mean to say... Is there any hope that I'll ever be successful during this time of cheerlessness 

But, I believe God is a merciful creator!!

Details | Free verse | |

Pro Predicament

Circuitous circular departures cleverly Sequester and  
embrace Inexpressible  moments of time.

Reexamine status, prevent  consciousness apathy, 
fabricate and reflect acceptance of self. 

precisely propose  to expose fallaciously filtered 
fantastical trickery touched theories.

Turn tasteless translucent tall tales into stable, sturdy, 
structured strands and threads of reality.

Penniless pocketless Poets put the points paralleled 
and placed above onto pure white pieces of paper.

 Once they find the ramble in their role they carefully 
command,Clever creative content to appear from thin vapor.

Amusement, bemusement, a resplendent  daring drawn 
out dark dance down a solitary diabolical descent. 

Lingering Layers let love live in a finely spun web of 
lazy, lofty, lyrical linguistic letters; lost lurking spiders cant
 reach the heights that sadness fled.

Poets are pros, pronounced proponents, that precisely 
reconstruct a feelings components that fails to leave any 
audience in a stoic state of stoney discontent..... 

Though they tirelessly endeavor to gain a fans approval 
and respect, they fail in fortunes favor. 
 Yet each day they commit make their art 
when most would be right to quit. 

Anyone can become a pro poet, 
you can tell we are devoted, though it should be noted 
if that's the readers intent, not a paid pro among us can 
come close to turning our 
thoughts into rent!

Details | Light Poetry | |

Favorite Words Contest(Andrea)

Fragrant* bliss* whispers* splendor*
Wafting* through the open window's breeze
Lavender* blossom surround me with tranquility*
Like my lover's lilting* caress and eloquence* of voice
Nature's dulcet* array of stimulus to my senses,
Carries me away to ecstasy

For Andrea's contest 4/10/10 good shot gun caliper

Details | I do not know? | |


She swims the salty seas
Crashing into the surface through leaves
Taking Captain Ahab down with her as he heaves

Destroying her predators ships along the way
He will no longer be found in Norway
She’s moving on to a less crowded bay

Details | Free verse | |

Destruction and Decadence

I have no idea what you are facing in this segment of life
You are like a labyrinth; I can’t untangle the mayhem without any clues
Spill out your emotions…there’s a waterfall in your eyes ready to collapse
I don’t have the time and willpower to hike on your colossal mountain

Are you fit enough to climb with my echoing praise?
I doubt I ever have the strength to crawl into your agonizing thoughts
Of destruction and decadence
Of despondent dreams and isolated guidance

Do you accept my benevolence towards you?
Do you believe that I can mend your shattered dreams?
Do you accept my fondness towards a friend like you?
Do you have faith that I can make your dreams a reality as it truly seems?

Your contemplation is another expedition to trek
You are like an island, separating cramming chaos from undying peace
Rise from the cave and attack…there’s a bear in your nature, watching over her cubs
I don’t have the ability and determination to trudge in your soggy wasteland

Are you slick enough to trek with my shielding gaze?
I doubt I’m nowhere to be found in your thoughts of desolation
And destructive formation,
Springing forth the equipment of your
Turmoil and damnation

With any luck, I hope we can arrive in one piece
On the other hand, I wish that we both escape from this horrifying journey
Because I want to discard the labyrinth, crafting puzzling pathways that draw me back to
Destruction and recklessness
That I, by no means, address

Details | Verse | |



Limes  lie,  slim elms smile :  
Lime Isle lies miles.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Every word in this verse is composed of letters in 
the word  MILES, each letter used only once per word.

I asked the lime and elm trees  how far away the Lime Isle was, and 
this is the vague  response I received.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Entered in Paula Swanson's Contest  "Miles"

Details | Rhyme | |

Across the Fields At Dawning

Darkness lifts with the hint of suns' light
across the fields at dawning.
The coming of day releases the night
as moving  some great awning.

The things that were hid now come to light
across the fields at dawning.
The suns' rays pierce the dark with their might
as alone, I write yawning.

Another world I look upon
across the fields at dawning.
What makes for tribulation is gone
across the fields at dawning.

Details | Free verse | |

when eyes crawl ...

in words
         grace falls
                     from the page

falling down for quite some time
                every soft silence is falling
                        every flying dream
falls swiftly down

every enjambment
               every word
                       every note 
falls down 
   your feet

where the beat
           lifts it up 


where you dance
                 it up


and feel your heart 


where you lift your eyes
from the mud to the skies
looking like a fallen angel or a dirty saint

seeing the words 
in the clouds and the rain
in the stars and galaxies filled with dust and fire
in the wars of men and the gathering of moths
in the sweetest honey mead and your broken guitar
in the sea and the wind and the shadows of the street
in the secret in your eyes

where you

                       see the spaces

                                     where my pen gently aches

Details | Rhyme | |

A poem

I can not think what to write,
I have thought with all my might,
I have gone through every adjective every verb and every noun,
I have thought of every jewel you can put on a crown,
I've climbed the wall.... but now to get down,
My smile is now a frown,
I can not think what to write.

Details | Alliteration | |


Pleasure, like the flowing of a gentle stream Happiness, like the joy of a lively kid Power, like the rule of a mighty king Freedom, like gentle journies of melodious strings All flowing within a being I reckon with My ink, My Friend, God ends!

Details | Free verse | |


can I report on a story
tell a tale of thy hills
relate to a beautiful river
help you imagine the green fields

This is Bob Blankinship reporting
to you live in the lush mountains 
of one of the most beautiful places in
the world , the beautiful state of
Oregon. I believe that poet Rick Parise
has capture the serene beauty of this 
breathe taking wonderland with
a simple but beautiful poem entitled
"Pure Life" This is how it goes,

onward through the hills of a pleasant dream
I push forward to reach the waters of a pulsing love
surrounded in great vastness air so crisp and visions alive
I knee at the waters edge to sip pure life...
Words cannot describe the beauty here in Oregon
If you want to experience this beauty for yourself , just jump in the car take a ride of your life , "pure life" that is !!
Bill Blankinship reporting , blessings to all , goodnight!

Details | Senryu | |

' Mimicry ...' 23rd Senryu

‘ Mimicry ’   23rd  Senryu 

        Is That Mimicry ? …
Yeah ! … A Caged, Enraged Polly
          Parrot-Parody !

Details | Rhyme | |

Super Quiz Clue No. 4

It's sensual in beauty, covets both sunshine, and rain.  Elegent in structure, now 
is the time for your quiz smarts to reign.  Good Luck!!

Details | Quintain (English) | |


He died as all humans die, 
and yet his thoughts have never ceased...
to declare a mortal an immortal:
expressing himself with works 
full of sensitivity and awareness. 

He lived and breathed that Chilean air,
sent from the mixed breezes of the Andes;
and sitting down on a warm rock,  
he contemplated the white peaks of those mountains...
gleaming from distance, to instill more tenacious memories.

Pablo glorified the human spirit
with its unflinching fortitude, 
to describe the joy or sadness of a certain age;
and absorbed in profound thought,
he continued writing until death stopped his breath.

Details | I do not know? | |

Another Clue to No. 13

There is a conection between this season and his talents.

Details | I do not know? | |


Rain paints my soul into silvery streams
Life is like light
All is more than it seems
Something is here, in the night of your eyes
Something is here, in the tears of my cries

In the darkness, like velvet, I feel and I fall
The tide of my life fractures down through my soul

Wave upon wave
And stream upon stream
Is more than it seems
Tide upon tide
The moon of your eyes
Might bring this night into me

Rain, wash away, purify, drown my soul
Life is like love
All is pure, water cold
Everything's here, in the night of your eyes
Everything's here, argent tears are my cries

And the sky is like velvet, so freely I fall
The moon is a crystal in silvery scrawl

Wave upon wave
Written stream upon stream
Is more than it seems
Tide upon tide
The moon of your eyes
Will bring this night into me

Details | Cinquain | |


shaded gold
becomes monsoon-
berries rot beneath the

Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Greatest Poet Of All ... '

God … Is The Greatest Poet of All
God … Is The Greatest Poet
God, Speaks … And Leaves Us In Awe
… Astounded and Author-Devoted ! …

Yea … We are Humbled and Thunderstruck
and Sublimely Mesmerized
on His Sacred Utterances … We Have Drunk
like Raindrops of Soft-Mercy-Cries …

… While Angels, Sing in Quicksilver-Skies
Even His Son, is Called:  ‘ The Word ’ and Wise          ( John 1: 1 )
and Every Will and Syllable, and Vowel, Which Rise
… Begins, with Wondrous Words, ‘ He ’ Vocalized

And His Words, Are Strict-Forms and Bright-Joy-Colors
or Sometimes, Warnings in Stark Black and White
Yet … Articulated in Glorious Auras
from He, Who Called, The Darkness … Night               ( Gen. 1: 5 )

from ‘ He ’, Who Said:  ‘ Let There Be Light ’               ( Gen. 1: 3 )
‘ He ’, Who Orated, Birds in Sun-Flight
‘ He ’, Who Orated Sounds, So Right
Spoke Words, Worthy of ‘The Copywrite’ …

… Like, ‘ Let Us Make Man In Our Image ’ …                ( Gen. 1: 26 )
… and Humans, have been Echoing, Ever Since
For His Words Are More Than Vintage
They Are Epitome of Love and Law-Sentence

… Yea … We Emerged from God’s Epiphany
We Should Recite, What He Spoke First
in Such Beauteous, Lilting-Poetry …
… God, Spoke Forth ‘ The Universe ’ ! …                      ( Gen. 1: 1 )

… Called, The Dry Land, Earth                                    ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Called, The Waters … Seas                                         ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Pronounced Eve, Mother of Birth                                 ( Gen. 3: 16 )
(tho’ She Stole at Speech-Trees)                                ( Gen. 3: 6, 13 )

Yea … God Called Forth, Flashes and Flowers
and The Breath of Life and Swarms of Honey-Bees
And with Dynamic, Inspiration Power ! …
God … Even Called Forth … me

… and You, and You, and Your Voice Too !          ( John 3: 16  & John 10: 16 )
And Refreshing-Dew and Dawns, Brand-New
And The Rare-Edition – Chosen Few                   ( Matt. 7: 14  & Matt. 22: 14 )
… Each Bound-Volume, Ringing, Amen-True !      ( Rev. 14: 5 )

Yea … God, Is The Greatest Poet of Them All !
So, Let Us Catch Each Poem-Pearl, in Free-Fall
and Collect Them and Gather Graciously, as They Call
to Conjugate and Climb O’er, Deaf-Mute-Stanza Walls

… to Applaud, The Greatest Poet, Ever and All …

Details | I do not know? | |

Mental Affair

I gaze a stalky single-helix cradle,
Squished so in seemingly hydrous blue cover,
Attracts square substantial planes in a bundle.

I embrace now feather's mass helve to ladle
Psychic portraits siphon to it in wander.
My fist fiddles as it scribbles on oodles.

Cuts of a suckling tree, soil, river fondle
Paper, pen, poet in cahoots as lovers
Rupture of a skeptic smug gnostic noodle

Details | Haiku | |

Building Blocks

The Invisible
Framed the worlds by faithful words
For visible proof.

Dedicated to my son Caleb.

Details | Rhyme | |


Gentleness invokes kinship,
more than trust's oft biased recommend,
that fills my warranty for beauty's own in crypt,
I thank thee God, for measures in contend!

Forever, in that beauty were love's tend,
the faith between true friendship might erupt,
still it is forceful, deft attainment's quip,
mere looking gives to Soul, some filling up!

And see thee still, in all my eyes do ground,
wherein love's mercy must have contemplate,
if it were loathsome in some vile resound,
my heart would not have of these words found state!

Oh beauty, you are mine, not underrate,
the vestige I did yearn to so expound,
when will is chastised so, the quiet sedate
does moisten my eyes swell, no more impound!

Thy beauty love, be love, in nature's gate,
the seaming center of this garment's strung
holds empathy as moment's turn belay
the love that I do feel, be inward sung!

Details | Quatrain | |


The warm spring rain still falls on the cherry trees,
pelting on the sodden and drooping *lavender lilies...
forming a small lake, where playful robins
bathe and fend off the thrusting, thirsty shrikes.

Soon children will come out and act dippy...
chased by wild puppies and mousy kitties
fighting over their stuffed, torn bears;
oh, there goes my peace and *tranquility!  

The *fragrant lilacs are in dire need of growth and color,
lately they haven't soaked up enough sun and raindrops:
tingeing them, allowing them to revel in their *splendor;
never denying lovers the *dulcet tones of their voices.

The tranquil skies conjure up a past *bliss,
can a poet's unrhymed words, emitted in a *whisper, go on *lilting?
He will delightfully inhale the strong perfume of the breeze *wafting!
And will he create verses with *eloquence?

Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
Word Warrior Challenge: Beautiful Words

Details | Lyric | |

Why I Tilled My Thoughts

I tilled my thoughts--

near a sparkly stream, where 
a rainbow bridge linking the past, 
the present, and the future 
of an exquisite aroma
of my morn sighs, ‘til it dawned upon a pink butterfly, 
like the great orb. Ahh, countless times I 
tilled my thoughts, while 
li’l robin chirping in the young evergreen, which 
out-shadowed grandpa’s oak tree, 
where crimson love was once 
etched on it. I did
the etching. And, the mystic spring sipped the blood
that oozed from her scented body, waking up 
the wild tares eagerly casting their sleek shadows 
to attract warblers, to play with them. Hmm, 
the thoughts, cultivated 
near a sparkly stream, like blooms
written in a poem--
can connect not only poets. 

Details | Cinquain | |


soft ice
slow freezing water
ice cold and numbing

Details | Haiku | |

Spring Call

Winter's milk curdles
In the breast of my desire
Spring purges with fire.

Details | I do not know? | |


lightnings picturesque

vehement wind full of zest

pulchritude caution

natural snarl best

do not nictate the eyes lest

it will seem to rest

a relief by waves

racketry from wave breakage

dulcet stir to ears

light illuminates

through a box it radiates

mere simulation


Details | Free verse | |

Family Tree

Our family tree will never stop growing…our faith and comfort will never crumble
Love grows here…so have no fear—God is near
My family, though packed up with pride and low self-esteem, still appears humble
Mirth produces joy and our hope gives birth to cheer

God is our Father; who could play this role as skillfully? Who, other than God, created the world so genuinely?
Love comes from He…so scare away the anxiety—God will grant us ecstasy
My family, though packed up with hope and despair, cherishes my soul with glee
Rebirth and life comes from He and our faith should draw near to thee

"i love you sweet boy..we will have fun this summer and be a close and godly family..nighty nit my light"
This summer, I am positive that we will be a close and godly family
But we must be lights of the world…and we must be willing to finish that race of hardships to earn His dignity
By all means, we will have an enjoyable break without paying a fee
But we must be God’s faithful followers…and we must be prepared to follow our Shepherd who is the key

Of never-ending faith and comfort, nourishing us abundantly
He still exists…He unravels the insanity
Of this world and set us free from blasphemy
Watching over us with pure vitality

Give us Your water
Don’t leave us in the gutter
Listen to the words we mutter

I pray that our family tree will look up to you devotedly

Details | Rhyme | |


I had the traits of a gorgeous child,
different in looks and behavior,
only mother understood his tremor...
when night fell and he ran inside.

An adorable child expressing curiosity,
touching everything in his path,
and those hands seemed full of creativity...
when visions lured his interest.

I hold this photograph to reminisce the grace
of that tiny toddler beginning his first, memorable race... 
while his mom stretched her protective and loving arms, 
ready to hug him and reward him with tons of smiles. 

I had the traits of a gorgeous child,
obsorbing the vivid images and colors of the seasonal scenes...
I'd describe in my writings, to feel the essence of unreal dreams;
Oh, was I aware of my final stride?

Details | Free verse | |


Everything is going well,
looking forward to living a fuller life,
burying the not-so-happy past 
under the ashes of turbulent days...
willing to forget all the hurtful ways.
With thoughts and pen ready to create,
new lyrics for songs and verses for poems;
who ever said that life can't be grand?
Don't assume I stare at the hourglass,
counting every flowing grain of sand! 
Honor and glory were not expected,
but I accepted them with gratefulness;
and they are not the gods I bow to,
I pray to a real God, who always dwells 
above the unreachable realm of blue. 
The gladness of being alive and thankful
has made aware how I greedly clung to my estranged, dark world...
with people passing by, never saying hello;
did I ever wonder why they were so distant and cold?
Why didn't I share anything with them...only glorifying my ego?
Pride can be achieved by willingness and stride;
and it has the loveliness of very delicate lilies,
which an unexpected wind can suddenly taken away,
to never bring them back to the scented, open meadow, 
and be picked by delicate hands to adorn a lovely home. 
So desperate to excel, motivated by desire and passion,
to go beyond the unexplored and find a perfect image
of that peaceful soul living on a deserted island,
where Man has never left any imprint of his intellect,
or imposed on land and fowl his invasive foolishness.  

Details | Free verse | |


under the umbrage of a willow tree
a poet sits in the sunset and writes haiku's
he notices the marbled pastel sky off in the horizon
he listens to a concerto of sparrowsong, breeze, and rustling leaves
his pen touches paper like natures touches life
capturing the essence of life, the majestic beauty of nature,
in three lines is an ineffable feat a poet will never achieve
beauty is something that cannot be read or taught,
it can only be experienced - absorbed - consumed
               cast in the twilit
               umbrage of the lone willow--                
               three lines captures beauty

Details | Free verse | |

Don't Start

Don't ask questions,
don't answer questions,
don't be smart,
don't be stupid,
don't be an outcast,
don't follow the crowd,
don't talk under your breath, 
don't be so loud,
don't be alone,
don't be with him,
don't be with her,
don't obey what they say,
don't break the rules,
don't be a sheep,
don't stray from the herd,
don't put yourself in danger,
don't be a square,
don't be out of shape,
don't smoke,
don't drink,
don't do drugs,
don't just sit there,
don't be too cautious,
don't be a wallflower,
don't dace like that,
don't start reading a list with no agenda.

Details | Haiku | |


Five, seven, then five
Syllables embrace three lines.
Nature glorified.

Details | Blank verse | |

a silent mistress

trust in the touch, the taste
the light of the darkest night
as it plays
in quiet want,cat-like 
with streams of thought
unconscious conclusions
half-formed forms
mice to the moon's muse
devoured desires
resting before ever wrought

Details | Lanterne | |


wave goodbye-
all confined things

Inspired by the maxim of Toulouse Lautred's father about nature/birds etc

Details | I do not know? | |

Quiz No. 14

It sounds like a laundry detergent.

Details | Haiku | |

cultivate my thoughts

            cultivate my thoughts
near the crystal stream, like blooms
              penned in a poem

Details | Verse | |

Hand to Hand

 I hate others,
That are objecting me. 
I love others,
That are encouraging me.
Who can alter me?
If I don’t accept any device,
I like to tease others,
But always I love to my like,
Dislikes, I always mind,
I amn’t different,
I do as you do,
My mankind is yours 
And yours mankind is mine,
Then what’s my weep,
We are traveling in a same boat.
You scratch me, I shall scratch you. 
Nobody a third can ruin us.

Details | Free verse | |

Mea Culpa, Extol Belles-Lettres

The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious; 
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings, 
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...

Details | I do not know? | |


Behold the pulchritude overhead exalts to about a spread. 

It is o full swift which greatly outstrips thunder and gale added, 

Yet ocular to sigh from more than a score of hillocks afar. 

It is yet not as harefooted as my head can proceed thinking, 

Wending in raining sands anyway in the world; I am, warping. 

Eclipsing, rising flowering is stalking to a lightning hark. 

Fit ratherish hebetates the wit seeing the fleeting on-dit. 

Wights excitedly get unaware and err without a merit. 

Thunderstorm is a marvel, a thrill, and opposite to a pit. 

To expand the concept in top glass, I can only compound it 

To a bit, as Oak's nether jut loud rackets; I lief bracket it 

To daunted lit fibrils in an electric, animated chit. 

Grandiosity and haste of german "Blitz" allure me pretty, 

Puffing sinew of great intensity as exit gratefully. 

No wonder Homer, a sage, enkindled Zeus with it slatefully. 

Withal, Gandalf scragged up a demon by a bolt, hit it fatefully. 

I fumble in night to kiss spits heard in my inner olio. 

To fancy, a mountain of clouds on the stratosphere sits and flows. 

Ergo, zenith and nadir fascinate each other, pitch and tow. 

Lightning is jars of macedoines of grits afloat as dominoes. 

A scad of millesimals in a galaxy: shrunk, shot, and blows. 

Such dragons breathe snows wee of infinitesimal ratio, 

So snows sock the gullible cherub in me so as hue arrows. 

A bolt o real as it speeds, is so so vivid; No nod, it glows. 

A man tranquil in a head, able or wicked, it's good to know, 

Mental heaven to if it is full facile to trow; Thor follows.

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Light Years, Away '

Far-Away … Light Years Away …
How Appropriate, It Is, We Say …
Light Years Away … Words To Measure
The Great Distance to Explore Celestial Treasure

… For He is Light Years, Away From Us
… yet … Closer … than The Lightest Touch
Closer … than The Merest Whisper
Closer … than even Lovers, Can Venture

and yet … Light Years Away … from Man’s Technology
Light Years Away … in Telepathy
Light Years … of Surpassing Intelligence
Those Light Years Away … should Inspire Reverence

… in Wisdom … He is So, Far, Advanced
We, Will Never Reach … His Zooming Stature or Glance
Beyond, What He Has To Show
Look Back at Him ? … ‘Please !’ … Keep Learning To Go …

… Light Years Away … Oh, Joyous Mystery!
Light Years … of His Supreme Love and Gracious Majesty
and Divine Dignity and Glory and His Excellency … All Light Years Away
so … Up … Up … and Away … that’s how Real Superheroes Pray

… and that’s how We Travel, Light Years Away … Day by Day by Day

Details | I do not know? | |

We Have A Winner!!

Yes, indeed, Mr. John Heck is the winner with his answer-"Tulips"; His reasoning 
is as follows...Keyboard humor; a somewhat off color joke I've heard, and 
apparently, so has John, which goes: What's better than roses on your piano?  
Tulips on your organ.  I hope no one is offended, none intended.  If so, please 
accept my apolology.  (And, I would believe, John's, should anyone feel that 
necessary...which they should not.)  The next clue; Namesakes come in pairs; 
Two Lips.  Third; "I sound like a part of you"; Lips.  Fourth;  Sweet to the senses; 
Tulips...(I would add, they are visually, as well as aromatically.)  Fifth;  
Sometimes I stretch out, and make others howl; John's answer here; Tulip 
pedals stretch out.  (actually, in this clue, I was alluding to when a person yawns 
and their lips spread out, and how it makes other people yawn somehow.  
(Another Mystery of Nature!)  Sixth; Thumbs in Dikes; His comment; Tulips are 
flowers that are in abundance in Holland (Netherlands).  This is on target, yet I 
would add, think of the children's story about the little boy who stuck his thumb in 
the leak in the dike, to save the village.

In any event, Mr. John Heck is our Winner!!!!  Congratulations!!!  Please, everyone 
note, henchforth, Mr. Heck shall be referred to as, "His Majesty, King John the 

Well, Your Majesty, Good Sir King John the First, you may request a custom 
poem based on any one word.

Recap to date; Contest Quiz Part No. One- Make a six line poem incorporating 
the following 6 words, or phrases;"Waffle", "Roller Skate", "Latex Paint", "Bench 
Press", "Coal Bin", "Police Siren". Opening day worth-10 Points, less 1 each day 
after, and humorous poems from above can earn up to 10 Bonus Points max.  

His response;

"The Ballad Of Tom Bell" (Sung to the tune of Rogers and Hammerstein's "My 
Favorite Things.."

"A bench press, a coal bin, a Six Story Waffle???
Structures that Tom made with glue and falafel!
Rollerskates dipped in Latex semi-gloss paints?
A police siren was heard to place him in restaints!

Baked beans and burgers, drank with something that fizzes,
Frantically typing his weekly pop quizzes!
His Mother Goose characters "ARE" tied up with strings,
The fun anecdotes Tom Bell's poetry sings.

Tom has dog bites!

Suffered bee stings!

He is going mad!

(And seeing things!)?

So look at this bloke
and think of yourself,
and I'm sure you won't feel

Details | Free verse | |

The Moonlight Strummer

A pale imitation of the moon
Strumming the strings of its light casually
In seemingly unwavering lines through a disk of
Two dimensions onto my three
Like Columbus imposing his world on the world
Illuminating the room, with indifference to
Science or my prose or poetry
Or my ambivalence as to the character of my words
As my hand, skin tinged by the Earth and the Sun’s arrangement
Clutches the jaundiced page
And my mind, in awe of Earth and Sun
And Science and Light, struggles to count
Like a lost driver on a lonely moonlit black-blue highway
The coordinates of its home on the x, y, and z planes
And beyond
Of this mammoth matrix stretching far beyond
All horizons, every vertex, anything we can see or imagine

And one understands that this is a proof
But what it proves proves uncertain
Except for those who believe, it is knowledge
And for those who do not know, it is belief
And for those who do not believe, it is a fantasy
But a fantasy they should wish to believe

Details | Couplet | |

A Tongue Is Like A Rose

My friend, I rather not learn to speak 
In thy tongue that really makes one sick

A tongue lovely as early morn rose
And deadly like her own prickly toes


Inspired by a nasty comment I got 
For winning the PS Poetry Contest.

Details | Free verse | |

salt marsh~ (a syntu)

hear the rattle of the clapper rail
buffer of strong seas
grassy refuge of the great egret

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |


We, in the heart of midnight, connected, 
Charged by electronic parables spun 
Through cables and channels of fragile fibre, 
Close-knit and ambitious to be as one. 

The amethyst drape of coffee shadows, 
Heliotrope hands of praying faith 
Gathered me in and held me close, 
An avid, emotional, passionate wraith. 

Devoted, bedazzled I anticipated 
Words that hypnotically burn and entrance, 
Wings of a dove in the lavender sky, 
Soft falling rain from clouds of romance. 

I, in the heart of midnight, concluded 
Placid in peaceful superlative schemes, 
My love is the saviour of hope and salvation, 
Guardian of idylls, the keeper of dreams.

Details | Blank verse | |

a virgin thought

paint you
over & over
unraveling threads
sticky strings
of Fate's (un)doing
infinite fingers
of thin hands
peeling back layers
uncertain glass
tearing pure white
the tell-tale stain
of red
on purple-pink
on fingers,
on sheets
a virgin thought,
taken all too soon
from childhood
into deeper woods

Details | Narrative | |

sinking to the bottom

right here, now, as i type,
characters are getting 
that sinking feeling of 
their own digital oblivion

i am typing in my "working" file,
the one where i always start out with 
a few words or lines i might forget
if i don't net them right away

and they always start out on top
in the fresh digital aire of light
flashing their shiny tails and i's
and are captured for all posterity

should posterity ever be in need
of some flagrant synapses output
that fired through my skull
at some 100 metres per second

the thoughts from yesterday or,
tragically, a few moments ago
are pushed lower in the techno-lit
ocean of all possible lines

sinking slowly from sight
with their little character-eyes
looking up toward the light of
my screen receding in the now

there must be 53,696 characters
(statistics being numbered in many ways)
sinking now, like so many plankton
or diatoms in the digital oceans

to feed the dark "word fish"
and other creatures, maybe something
glow-in-the-dark with ghastly teeth
like in my fourth grade biology book

yet if those 53k of diatomic letters
are really four-letter-words 
that have been puzzlingly rearranged
like blinking cursor literary DNA

just think of all the swearing
that might be bubbling out
of that digital Davy Jones at
the bottom of this oceanic chest

© Goode Guy 2011-10-07


Details | Rhyme | |


Oh my friend you sing tonight
to some soul have brought delight
some empty night you may have filled
with happiness the world has killed
to entertain you've taken part
and hoped to lift a heavy heart
but if you hope their heart to lift
priceless truth the only gift
Master musician a story you tell
understanding lies within your spell
weaving the listening upon the ears
the sorrow of their own life's fears
You know not all is as it seems
the world imparts it's own dreams
into your well you have dipped
upon it's wine have listeners sipped
music vibrates it's chords upon the soul
can tear it apart or help make whole
the message that you choose to give
can impart death or light to live
Commune with God upon your bed
the tenderness of love don't leave unsaid
with seduction to gain worldly treasure
and lure mankind to lesser creature
Things you hold within your hands
with instruments tones and word understands
a piper who leads minds on a passage
what should be the call of the message
With the song of the Bard is God concerned
where it leads and what teaching is learned
harken to you do the children of youth
be careful to impart only the truth
source "The pied Piper"
COPYRIGHT © 2098 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Details | Sijo | |

Night Falls Suddenly -Sijo

 Abruptly, the shadows dispelled of the soft green earth 
As midday approaches, few are gathering in the heat thereof
The sunset flows, ‘cross-vast blue sea and night falls suddenly. 




Details | Tanka | |


The finest line drawn-- 
Between silent stirs and sighs 
Of swaying roses 
In such perfection for myth 
Charmed by breath of a night wind

Details | Haiku | |

Broken (Haiku)

The battered rose lay, 
sorely strewn upon the earth, 
as lifeless beauty

Details | Rhyme | |

Building Poems

Words that rhyme and words that don't,
these are toys for the writer's pen.
They creatively come together
to form a masterpiece once again.

These toys they use to describe
the thoughts upon their mind
are as a child at play
with such joys untold to find.

So many building blocks to choose
each poem of which they write.
Limitless are the words they can use
building poems and reaching new heights.

This world is their training ground
as they write of what they see.
Always something different in store,
writing of stuff that makes memories.

Douglas L. Ace

Details | I do not know? | |

Super Quiz No. 2, Clue No. 2

Here we go folks; and, yes, this is a hard one....Any winner, should that unlikely 
event take place, ought to be enshrined in the Mensa Society, and declared a 
puzzle-master, cryptanalyst genius, and be lauded throughout the land....So, don't 
shy away from trying....who knows??....maybe the C.I.A. will hire you at $250,000 
a year, and your fame and name will spread throughout the world!!!  So, come'on 
guys & gals, lets get crack'en.......

Part No. 1) Question; "It might be related to a hungry person eagerly devouring a 
hero sandwich ravenously."
Firtst Clue;   "One might say the sandwich has a hostile attitude to such a would-
be eater.
Today's Clue No. 2;  "It moves between 2 worlds, and its bite is deadly.
Today's Clue No. 3:Lusitania
Today's Clue No. 4: Shark of Steel

Part No. 2)  Question;  "Adults and tots play with its parts.
First Clue;  "Calif. Gold Rush."
Today's Clue No. 2;  "Damn that Zam, he's a wham!!"
Today's Clue No. 3;  Tinker.
Today's Clue N0. 4:  Aqualung breakfast dish

Part No. 3)  Question;  ""It moves from state to state, but uses neither automobile 
nor plane."
First Clue;  "It may allude to something you'd display in your living room."
Today's Clue No. 2;  "Tom Bell's home is well known as a place that it does 
Today's Clue No. 3;  It's nature makes it hard to find, though it is everywhere.
Today's Clue No. 4:  Oscar Meyer's Cleaner

Part No. 4; (Bonus Question);  "If things go ever more poorly,
                                                         And you can no longer find...
                                                         Your confusion award, you may
                                                         find these 2 words on your sword." 
First Clue;  "Sometimes "Pennies From Heaven" have a long wait before the 
drought eases.
Today"s No.2-correct answer to pt. No.3 gives you half answer to this one
Today's clue No. 3;It could rhyme with immigration.
Today's Clue No. 4: Not a word you're likely to hear used.  Noun.  Act of becoming
increasingly unhappy.

Details | Verse | |

An Iridescent end

mother's pearl
softer side of true grit
when irritated produce beauty
clamming up
for a time can produce
more valor than flexing your muscles
as grace upon the neck
combing for wisdom hope you find it
all colors
make rainbow's glorious
so find it on the way to beauty

Details | I do not know? | |

Another One Of Those Times

Another one of those days,
I am feeling the sun's rays.

Another one of those nights,
I am seeing the sky's lights.

Another one of those times,
I am thinking these poetry rhymes.

Details | Free verse | |

A Confusion of Sorts

understanding lacks her mysteries
all in my head
what wonder asunder?
a complex calibration
with my ego.
all in jest!
but, is it really?
what is the nip in the bud?
my rose?
my cucumber?
my lavender?
finger to lip, I pause,
eyes meandering meaninglessly,
comprehending nothing, I
turn away.

Details | Lyric | |

To Paint You

I can paint
You, in black 
And white
While the sky curls 

Your hair, with care
As swaying
Green of spring
In the garden

Between orb and rain
In rivalry

Yet, I chose
To paint you, with
Lush of 
My words


for poet Ernilando Tugaff

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Of Waters

Mother of Waters
you're peace and tranquility;
how I long to be as free.

Oh Mother of Waters,
mighty! untroubled, and true!
change me to be just like you.

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

But who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say 
what commands your violence?

Sweet Mother of Waters
graceful, mystic, serene...
who can know what you have seen?

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

but who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say
what commands your violence?

Dear Mother of Waters,
great mirror of the dusk and the dawning...
calming, soothing, everlasting...
how I long to be as free!

Change me to be just as thee.

Details | Free verse | |

Wandering In Myself

With pen and paper
I sit here and wander,
    what there is
     that I could possibly ponder
worth writing
for someone to read.

with sunlight cascading,
with the mists
twisting their way
through a green canopy
to the south 
as I look at 
the panoramic view
from a rock ledge,
on a stone face
hundreds of feet up.

Lying down,
   broken and confused,
lyrical thoughts
   pass harmonicly,
landing within reach
   of the parchment
                    its inked on,
lasting long enough
   to get a verse or two.

Letting ones mind 
   race and wander,
learning the art
   of insanity,
loving nothing
   with a heart of stone
loathing not having 
   someone to write about.

Details | Free verse | |

Yet Still

my words pour from my fingertips
in the hope of understanding
to make the world a little clearer
and all they do is muddle it
I write furiously with no comprehension
of what it is I write
but with the full understanding that I have to write
always hoping that someone will read and understand
tosee the clear picture
of the portrait I painted
of a person unknown to all
but existing in a place that well known
to the point that  people seek him without fully
comprehending what they seek
until he,
himself intervenes on their behalf and puts out his hand,
which most reject for people want to make their own way,
but still I write
not fully comprehending what I am writing
till the point where I lay down in exaustion

Details | Free verse | |


I see pink lips that mark
Sun’s last kiss to the sky
They fade slower than a lover’s 
But it is still goodbye.

One side of the house
Already in darkness waiting
As my light burns steady
For the end of day.

And as it glows flushed
I see my empty room
Thank my pen for its constant

Oh I wish I could describe 
Hot passion laid outside
My window or flare your
Memory with half the same glare.

Yet watch it fades even now
Until night’s seductive fingers 
Prise love’s fiery glow
From the sky’s forgetful breast

Details | Blank verse | |


Beware from alligators,
A notice board was hanged,
Outside the pond,
And water was very quiet.

I tried to look around,
I haven’t seen any alligator,
But suddenly an animal came,
And bend to drink water.

I have seen a giant alligator,
Attacked on an animal,
But a poor animal has lost his life,
But board was still hanging.

I have seen thousands alligators,
In white clothes but never seen, 
Any notice board, is system so worst?
They are sucking bribery who noticed.

Details | Free verse | |

The Kiss

I saw light's golden tongue
Plunged rapidly
Into a wide mouth of leaves
I heard a forest
With desire sighed, and moan
And I trembled for the fruit
Face to face fondling
My caress upon the pen

Details | Ode | |


In the lovely Campanian countryside, amid
verdant hills and mountains...where Virgil
stopped to rest,while jeourneying to visit Cybele's temple, 
lie a fertile valley where chestnut and walnut trees
abound...there is hidden the bustling town of my birth!
Narrow streets overlooked by bell towers,
and whenever the sturdy bronze bells ring 
in the fragrant air of early spring:
young and old from windows and balconies, 
in the twelfth hour, engage
in the sweet thanksgiving prayer...
while the tricolor flags sway in the warmest breeze!   

The town's friendly people will welcome you with song,
untill you feel wonderful and touched by all;  
this town has seen invasion, pestilences and a dire year... 
an almost fatal hurricane that prevented a fierce battle
from being fought during World War II;
was Divine Intervention a factor to be acknowledged?
It spared this town being bombarded by air,
and it saved my mother's life to tell this truth!

God blessed this unknown place,
and sent Mary with the infant  Jesus,
four days after He was born,
on a long jeourney through that valley
filled with peace and beauty:
to find a revered and holy mountain...
much closer to Heaven!
And She shed many tears
to give all the dull flowers
a brilliance of their own!

Deep in the hills there was a very special place I choose,
where I would rever the magnificence of the valley...
revealing a superb panorama with the Vesuvius in sight,
was there another creation as magnificent as that ?
And that owesome view perked up my inspiration inside,
teaching my  tiny fingers to write with a human heart!
O Baiano, don't strip this name from your walls and stones:
I am a forgotten native who will return before he'll die!

Details | Free verse | |

Spelling Lesson

To cast a spell with perfect skill
While using words that rhyme
Is waving iron on stormy hill
And not just spelling time
The magics flicker twist and weave
Like hand tied flies o’er mountain streams
Casting spell requires skill
Hard learned by those who dance in dreams
A sharp barbed hook can circle till
It finds a novice ear
There’re spells that bind and spells to find
And spells that one can take
From using any indiscreet
To stand on steady feet
For Magic charges fees to they
Who in her wiles wade
And waits a spell like fires in Hell
For payment yet unpaid
A careful skill indeed with will
And need to weed to garden
Make no mistake and give don’t take
And ask no witch for pardon

Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet, Who Asked the Birds How To Fly (Mixed Rhyme)

O, behold the man, by the old sea 
He closes his brown eyes, feeling free
Dancing to the wind, taunting the bee 
He, who loves nature, although, carefree
Nevertheless, wants you all to see 

Him, who hates watching gray clouds hide the bright sky 
Where falcons, soaring high, relentlessly
Against the gusting wind, they’ve freedom to fly
Reveling in fleeting days, across the

Virulent sea, where he spends time 
Lulling, unmindful of them 
The naked ladies of Shem 
On shoreline rocks, weaving blue rhyme 

For he does not like to see those eyes, tinted 
With hues of withered red roses on the ground
‘Cos there is no more beauty, in them, when dead
Or, in the eyes, when full of sadness, the sound 

Of a unkempt sea, where its breath 
Streaking his soul, without regret 
Filled with un-prophetic news 
That he, too, wished to fly, to set 
Wings to where he won’t have to fret 
‘Bout not wanting to peruse…

The whippersnapper, who n’er wanted to cry
He, the poet, who asked the birds how to fly
He, the man, by the old sea, hurt by heart’s lie 

That, in forms, caused him to unveil	
Whence readers can feel, the detail

Whether, penned in a single verse
Or, in a freestyle, like free-verse

Whether, it’s written in sonnet 
Or, perhaps, in a rhymed couplet 

Between lines, untangle his thought 
And you’ll see me, the life, I fought 

Details | Free verse | |

Sidewalk Scribbles

CJ scrawls out
his initials
saying in black ink
this is his turf.

I dare not step
on the 4-letter word
engraved in stone
lest it ruin my day.

Some sweet child of God
writes, "GOD IS GOOD"
all over the park
in pink chalk.

Lovers carve
their lettered kisses
into hearts
set in stone
that make me smile;
love is such
a happy thing!

The dog left
thankfully only

Mother Nature
dropped some leaves
to imprint themselves
upon the walk.

I haven't left my mark

maybe I will tomorrow.


Details | Free verse | |


Winter's chill
Howling winds
Arctic blasts

Through layer upon layer
To the bone

Turning skin a shade of blue
Normally reserved
For tropical seas
And newborn eyes

Drifts of snow
Piled high as my home
Sleet and snow
Driven by Mother Nature's gales

Through the bone-numbing 
And the blinding storm
Of purest white

One glimpse

Of you


Details | Lyric | |


Sleek pen welcomes 
the scented stationery
with a gentle kiss, 

coy as a blooming rose 
and of course, on hand
to sate yellow butterfly,

soft petals are teasy 
with salacious aroma, 
proudly advertising--

the unfermented dews of 
morning mountains and my
own imaginative thought.

Details | Free verse | |


I can say a civil hello
But anymore lie for popularity
And read poems like grade school work
Ignoring the condition of the world
And the disconnect of self
Marginalizing the deeper worth in us
The gift we are given by sacred trust
To make the blind speak
And the dumb listen
The dying pain of trees
We comment on one another 
As if we are writing in sandbox again
On the frivolous bend of knees.
Not me
Sticking to the soul marginalization by words
I bend my knees
To pray for more than the mutilation of trees.

Details | Crystalline | |


a sense of the immediate
seventeen syllables fozen in time

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Fresh Pickin's

Deliberately oblivious to the frenzied swarming insect greeting and
Picking the reddest and ripest of red raspberries then
Choosing the darkest of the gold to top the bowl
Later with the aftertaste of testing in the back of my palette and
The itching beginning in  places unreachable as
I sit in the cool safety of porch while
Penning the joys of plunder in 
Anticipation of fruited chocolate mousse
Comparing the experience to
Cleaning newly caught fish or
Filling a bowl of cool  salted spring water with
Fresh killed heart and liver or
Hand churning ice cream 

Details | Lyric | |

A Willing Heart

Oh, the way a 
poem rhymes
on a sheet of green of stolen memories
at the end of day
or the coming of night

is tinged with
wisdom of a falling leaf, yelling 
in great silence, where only
a willing heart can hear!

Details | I do not know? | |

Sunset Notes

Notes put to page by mage intent
Attempt at acting sage pro temp
Unheard notes of songs and hymns 
Unsung as yet unwrit
Using rythym of rhyming repeating
With rippling echoes reacting
Hanging ten while surfing brainwaves 
On the sharpening edge of reason
Activating nodes in thinking patterns
Chiselling in stoned memories 
Easily remembered by simple repetition
Pictures registered in singing words
Sunset clouds of changing color
Shaded hues of blue and red
Golden notes of symphonies 
Counterpointing purple coastlines 
Islands float in cloudy seas
Songs unheard but plainly written 
In time to changing winds
Dancing silhouettes of sunlight hung 
On shining stems of windblown waves 
Of bending blending grasses
So many strings vibrate together 
And in minor chord the brass is sung
By a thousand birds on cue
Crickets add a million cymbals
Until curtainfall is due

Details | Free verse | |

Language Arts

A word and a breath but it’s the thought that counts.
Up or down in or out love and trust is what it’s all about.
To you I say can you hear me perked up on the mounts.
You are in or you are out.
A touch and a whisper but it is the kiss of truth.
Knelt or bent I am down on my knees.
And I beg you please.
To me I say can I hear me or am I aloof?
Language arts is a dance in the breeze,
With a summer squeeze,
A winter’s pinch,
The spring’s stench,
Even the autumn’s leaves!
Bathing in the words and dancing like a twit.
Singing in rhythm and painstakingly making a switch.
Language arts is a breeze on the summer Seas.
Lifting you up or pulling you down and spinning you all around,
It will knock you to your knees,
Lifeless and unbound!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2005

Details | Cinqku | |


a light
frost whitens
the frozen verge-
inert below,summer

A cinqku is an 'English language 'version of a tanka with 17 syllables 2;3;4;6;2
no title and last two(or three) lines being a surprise/comment on the first three 
lines ie as in he American Cinquain of Adelaide Crapsey

Details | Alliteration | |

Winter Writer II

Winters' wandering within
wicked waves of worsening weather.
Wildly whipping winds
whistling through windchimes
tinkling tenderly.

Women wrapped in wreaths
of wool or, if rich,
cashmere coated against
the avalanche of chill
around corners marching,
counting with a
pink pedometer
to ensure a regimen
regardless of winters' waft.

Snow softly swirling
through the thermal drafts
not ready to land yet.
Not really stuck ...

Details | Monoku | |


Just looking,I see-
By reading,perceive-
                            as images deceive
In writing,I express-
                            syllbles and stress
When painting,depart-
                           off colour-wheel art
Sadly ,Fall tints are not there-
                                        no matter how hard I stare
Most reds upon green-
                               are not part of my scene

Details | Lyric | |

The nature of writing

Rivers run 
Where poets sing 
For wishful words with an endless ring 
Rippling rhythms a waters motion 
For dipping pens in black potion
To the early morning glories that climb  
With open minds where poets may rhyme  
To the mountaintops 
To the line of the sky 
Written notions shall apply
And fields of gold that blow and wag
And writers dream that they may brag 
So flow and stream like the riverbed 
And clear the words from out of head 
Go and carry you thoughts like seeds 
Where they be spread as far weeds 
And rest as weary winds that fall 
For silence breathes 
Where poets squall 

Details | Free verse | |

Lunar Inspiration

In drinking star juice, 
we internal light the fires within
We taffy twist and tug and spin
the wings of self elation
We bluntly burn each ventricle
and cauterize our lungs until
each tendril of our core is skin invading
And when the juice of stars ignites
we dance the dance and fight the fight
with solar flares to shoot our mouths
to moons yet undiscovered
It's in this moment we depart
and shatter long before we start
to lick elixir from the sky
in lunar inspiration.

Details | Couplet | |

Poetic Vandal

Divided devotion, like once parted ocean
A labyrinth of mere blinded emotion
Beating but bloated, ready to burst
Urgent ache to be free from this curse
Carve out our names, bound by a heart
Together forever engraved on bark
Destined desires, fulfillment somehow
Fortuitous craving must be filled now
Pronounce what I’m feeling on this old tree
Love oozes from ballpoint, but too far from me
My heartfelt gift can’t wait till later
When in death the oak transforms into paper

Details | I do not know? | |

Thanks and Comments

Thank everyone who responded to my daily insanity today.  A few quick notes;
Vince- thank God we have people like you to defend the country, and keep the 
cops from eatting ALL the donuts. You had me rollin'!
Sandra- what seperates the two?  Maybe they are head and tails on the same 
Sharon- yes, when it comes to Quantum Physics, I too like it in small quantums.
Much of it is counter-intuitive, like most marriages.
Ps- I like my sushi well done.
Happy day to all, tom.

Details | I do not know? | |

Quiz No. Nine

Our Mitsress of Quizes, Sharon, has come close.

Details | ABC | |


Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.


Details | Free verse | |


There's the hill
Here's another bill
The taxes are due
Look at my face, it's blue
The kids need to get to school
But I'm out of it like some fool
I'm late for work
And I'm called a jerk
I want to go home
but I'm still paying on a loan
Finally, five o'clock is here
And guess what, it's the end of the year

Details | Kimo | |

Dancing Sunbeams (Kimo)

Sunbeams dance across a once sullen sky;
Stretching pass hazy gray clouds, 
Daylight sprinkles the earth…

The Kimo style was developed in Israel as a post-Haiku poetic form consisting of three 
lines done in 10/7/6, syllable count. I hope that all enjoy this style. 

Details | Couplet | |

The Mixed-Rhymer

Tyburn and Diamante, the smarty and the glow, are now here
and they’re ready, perfectly ready, to be read by you my dear!

The wintry weather have mantled their innocent forms all day, 
and by the window they’re leaning on my last hope, their hooray.

I watch li’l Haiku, flowing, with orange flame in the evening wind, 
whilst the mystical orb lingers at the blue mountain---the fairies’ inn.

Dinner-fume is not floating-up yet, perhaps not today, from your kitchen,
so I, the mixed-rhymer, will do them the reading with pizzas in our hands.

Details | Crystalline | |

Crystalline #72

a precious stone on a rainbow throne,
an everlasting covenant

see more @ Rev 4:3 & Gen 9:13

Details | Lyric | |

April Nineteen

Inside the apple 
a star, in my throbbing heart
there’s nothing, but you--

April nineteen man
of yesterday and today, there is 
us...the vision of morrow

Of creative flair
ah, the spice-scented thought
shod with pink roses

Details | Couplet | |

And the Sun Spoke

The clouds fell down abruptly upon me this day
As the sun pushed them down, it had wanted to play

I looked to it, with a squint in my eyes
For it seemed so bright, there in the skies

It smiled and said, Michael, please write of me
I want the world to know just what I can be

I am more than just light, to brighten the day
I am inspiration, growth and a reason to play

I flourish the fields with multitudes of flowers
I give people reasons, in those fields, to spend hours

I am artwork, unpainted, but crafted from above
I am a gift from almighty, provided with love

So, Michael, can you please write of me now
Please let them all know, what I do and just how

Please choose your words wisely, so all to see clear
Just what I can do and just why I am here

I said, do not worry, they all know it true
For the words that I write, will be those poured from you

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry In Hiding

Hidden on a crisp white paper
Tracing itself in the lines of a sketch
Swirling through an artist’s paint

Rustling through the wind-stirred leaves
Weaving through an angel’s hair
Dancing in rainbow hues across the sky.

It chatters cheerily with the pebbles of a creek bed,
Or whispers gently across a sea of grass.
Other times, it roars violently in volcanic wrath
And hisses and pops like wet logs on a fire

It winks at me out of a loved one’s eyes
And tickles my ear in the lark’s song.
It swirls through my fingers with water of a bubbling stream
Tantalizingly, it teases my nose, like fresh-baked apple pie.

I find it in my father’s arms, when I can hear the steady beat of his heart,
Or discover it in the tangle of my siblings as we collapse in fits of wild laughter
It hid in my mother’s loving voice, while she sang me to sleep
And I see it in the curl of a baby’s tiny hands as she slumbers in my arms.
At night, it cocoons me when I snuggle under the covers

Concealed deep in the conclaves of my soul
Sequestered in the chambers of my heart,
Nestled snugly in my memories,
Coiled reassuringly in my mind
That is where my poetry hides.

Details | ABC | |


Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.

Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.

Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.

Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.


Details | Ode | |

Clues, Clues, Clues!!!!

On11- He may be sad, you may not be.
On 14- If it were a detergent, Billy Mays would be a natural!
On 13- His picture will appear soon, and often.

Details | I do not know? | |

Clue to Quiz 12 and 11

Quiz 12)- He'd probably like Wes Craven.

Quiz 11)-Maybe he's a member of Sgt. Pepper's Band

Quiz 13)-Strange eyes he never denies.

Details | I do not know? | |

Stubborn Ol' No. 9 bonus clue

Some have come close, but you've got to figure ouy all the angles.

Details | Alliteration | |


Blazing across telephone lines
barreling in brazen fury
determined to defy time

Details | Free verse | |

Untitled Love

I am--
A poem, the component 
Of heart and
With all the rhythm 
And rhyme that I gush
In wordy hives 

Of craving
Curved, delicately
On a tree, as its 

Juices run down the earth
To kiss and reverse the enchantment
Of winter. Ah, I am--

A poem
Not to irritate 
Your eyes

Yet, to please them 
With scented hue 
Of sensuous love, wafting 
From sleep 


Details | Lyric | |

The Murmur of this Poem

I would like you to listen, attentively 
To the murmur of this poem, but
Ahh, it’s gone now, as if nothing happened 
‘Cos, honestly, it wasn’t today’s morn

But last night, yes last night, before sleep

A heart, so gentle and pure
Like of winter rose in pristine December sky  
I still remember, I think it was love
Ahh yes, the love you’d wish for---the murmur 

Of this poem, flattered to its unknown grave

Details | Lyric | |

In The Night Rain

pile of 

before me.

tried to 
swing, with them

...yet no one noticed me,

in a 
soup much loved,

shall dance, 
with a rose the night rain’s fast trot! 

Details | I do not know? | |

Quiz 12 Winner!!!!

Edgar Allen Poe(lice)
In a startling Photo Finish- Shar beats John Heck in a matter of mere minutes!!!
Congratulations!!   You two appear to be true puzzle masters.  I am impressed!!

Details | Couplet | |


As I sit here
On this rock,
Writing about my life,
The environment has blessed be with a cold, crisp, windy day.
I listen to the trees, they are content, they are loved, they are not alone.

The grass moves with each gust, the elements working together
In perfect harmony and perfect peace.

My hair moves ever so softly with the everlasting breeze.
The air is whispering secrets to me,
Only I can hear them.
I won't tell, it would be my
Horror to reveal such things to those who do not understand.

Details | Classicism | |


I am non religious 
And believer in God
But my guilt is that
I were born a human
And willing to act as a human
As nature provides me
All my necessities
Free at cost,
I never paid for a seed,
I don’t know 
Who produced it?
And how long ago?
I know only a thing
Someone, who designed a human body,
Also build a brain to control it.
Is he known as a God?
Or is nature developed all?
For my care
For my happiness
For my human growth
Air, Sunshine, River, mountains,
Forest, animals, birds and planet
Day or night
Is a religion can produce?
Or just can divide only 
For its separate identity
Or different belief in natural spirit
Why do I need a spirit?
So a human can purify its deeds
A person can differentiate to justify
Own qualities as good or bad
To examine a sophisticated approach
As an evil or a Devine
Recognition for mankind’s
Behaviour or attitudes
For welfare or betterment
For a living standard
As a human on earth 
Not a God in Heaven.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Plea

I am not you-
but you will not give me a chance,
will not let me be ME.

If I were you-
but you know I am not you,
yet,you will not let me be ME.

You meddle,interfere in my affairs
As if they were yours,and you were me.
You are unfair,unwise,foolish to think
That I can be you,
Talk,act and think like you.

God made me me,
He made you you,
For God's sake,
Let me be ME.

Details | Cowboy | |

$weet Violent

Ask Me no more where Jove bestows when
June is past, the fading roses, for In your beauty's
Orient deep these flowers, as In their cause sleep ask
Me no more whither do stray the golden atoms of the Day;
For in pure love Heaven did prepare those
Powders to enrich your hair ask Me no more whither
Doth haste the nighttingale when May is past;
For In sweet dividing lawn She Winters, and keeps warm Her
Note ask Me no more where those Star's light, that
Downwards fall in dead of Night for in your Eye's they
Sit and there fixed become as In there sphere ask Me
No more if East or West the foundation builds Her spicy
Fragrant sweet violent sent love thou art absolute sole
Lord I gift writing poetry to prove the word we'll now
Appeal to no none of all those thy old Poet's great and tall.

Details | Free verse | |

Because I Did Not Care to Write About the Snow

Because I did not care to write
about the snow
the blackbird pulls within itself,
sucking feathers into its vortex
like a footprint.

Surely there are meanings
to the ice-covered lake
turned white.  We write
the words with our feet,
not guessing their meanings.

In the snow
the blackbird remains black.

The sky stutters.
It does not know
the essence of the ice
locked below.

Details | Imagism | |


Images blur my mind
A lavaform of thoughts flow,
As rivers carved through fields,
That meander to the sea-
Ebb,then flow,as flotsam lie,
Filtered on my page.

Details | Free verse | |

The Cradle To The Grave

 The Cradle To The Grave 
The Cradle To The Grave 
From the cradle to the grave                         6 
they come ideas to minds                    5 

heart translates ideas                            3 
to words poem does become                5 

A Krish Poem 
Krish has a rhyming scheme of 6 5 3 5 
in India this verse is found 
only at the CHARLAX website 
a new religion is founded

Details | Free verse | |

Critical Moments

Circles of confusion and a mirrored box
Image decisive instants of living and dying,
Entering and leaving the state of existence
In movement and idleness 
Capturing the connection of all things... 
The closer to, the less seen,
The further away, the bigger the picture
Yet, there's always something hidden
That answers the reasons why, shows new ways 
Of thought that suggests stones and studs
Metal and glass from ground, trees, air and sun
With flesh and bone of darker shades of white 
Lighter shades of black interrelating for undertones
Of what's his, what's hers and everything is theirs
On paper without words for the deaf through 
The unseen for the blind... the emotional by way
Of what is felt reveals the greatest mysteries
And implications of the objective and subjective
Views join together for knowledge to understand
The crucial for a better society on earth
As the truth that is a lie etches in the memory
And freezes in time culture by capturing 
Critical moments that connect all things in 
A mirrored box through circles of confusion
To usher in indispensable periods of success

Details | Verse | |

Icy Melting Drops

Why mountain has, 
A big belly,
What is in his tummy?
 Nobody is telly?

A fire is burning,
In it’s belly,
But greenery appears,
A hard stony appearance,
But climax is cool.

It protects our life,
And stops clouds for rain,
It produces soil,
To fertilise a valley,
And stores water to keep balance.
It seems hard to climb,
A peak of its top,
But fresh air blows down,
After it’s kissing,
The icy melting drops?

Details | Free verse | |

This Poem Won't Make You Cry

I have written- a poem 
That won’t make you cry, within 
Whose tender words spell 
The magic of love, 
Scented with honey, from 

A fluttering god: a gift- 
For thee, ‘cos this poem o’ mine
Is drawn from thy beauty!

I’ve made my heart rhyme, 
For the air not to die 
Before thy sight, 
‘Cos your charm, like crystal 
Blue sea imitating ocean, where 

Waves ripple, like notes 
Of dancing evening fire, 
Proclaiming thy desire!

Cry not, ‘cos my love will not fade 
Like a vapor and waft as a smoke, 
Though to death we all go, but for 
Us, not tonight, my dear!  Fear not, 
For in this muse- I will rest 

My aroma, ‘cos it was thee-
Who made me bloom, like a flower
On a rock, feasting on thy sacred wine! 

Details | Free verse | |

Quiz Wiz , I Is...

I never got so many responses before.
But, so far, you're knocking on the wrong door.
So I'll tell you one thing more,
The answer is virtually in the quiz,
That this old wizard claims is his

Details | Verse | |

A Person can Trace

A person can trace a person he has such skills.
When he blames a person, he becomes a criminal.
Then why he is criminal and innocents suffering, 
Then who will trust in if he fights for covering?

Someone isn’t guilty when he is breaking system,
Law cares for his safety and believes in custom.
Barriers and barriers a person is feeling tiredness,
What will be future if human has a guilty kiss?

He works for joy but conscious fills in pressure,
When he feels guilt and thinks himself in a crusher.
When he is strong he never cares for his deeds,
When he feels sick and dies for his greeds.

Nobody has tracing greeds as he made him nervous,
He never understands always wanders in curves,
Crisis comes and he replaces it with cleverness,
But he is only a man and he is a big robber. 

Details | Romanticism | |

My Lady Conqueror

I see, the poem I wrote to you was a bit timid, 
though sweet. “I’ll love you, forever!” is what it says,
and I, the great lover, perceived, “it’s what my heart beats!”
Several times, I had fluttered the many, hanging 
around the corner of the house. Conquer them all! So, I did.
The naked ladies, the bluebells, the angels trumpet
and countless others---innocent and blooming, 
but withered in few seconds in my eager hands. 
Yet, you---O La Belle Rose De Grèce, unlike them have conquered me!

Details | Free verse | |

A Place Where I Can Be Free

(Baring my soul)

Running uninhibited
Through the jungle like recesses of my mind;
To the special places where I can unwind…
Having not a worry of the things, 
Which I have so willingly left behind

I leap into the air with the greatest of ease, 
To glide upon a warm summer’s breeze
I worry not for what lies within the trees, 
I gracefully pirouette in the air landing ever so gently 
Within the green-blue sea
I swim for miles until I return to dry land, 
The nature child in me rests on the coolness of the white sands.
Basked in the warmth of the sun, whilst sipping 
On a perfectly chilled glass of iced tea ~
Serenely shaded by a palm tree 
Where the warm breeze sways the leaves
Providing a genteel fan… 

All my cares of this world 
I have placed in The Most Capable Hands, 
That shall continually protect me 
From harmful elements of nature and man
Alas, dear hearts I am free.

Details | Lyric | |


I am like tare 
that peeks through cracked, cemented ground 
and inter-mingles 
with happiness and sadness. I dance, 

awesomely with 
wild Jasmines, as they imitate 
the night. Ah, those swaying lips that 
mesmerize the silver moon 

obscured by a slow-moving 
dark cat, I wonder if my 
shadow in wintry days is the same 
in summer’s spell.  Look, 

my heart winks
like warm stars 
in the galaxy 
of love. See, I have 

this perception
from a whisperer’s passion. His mythical trek, 
shod with 
pen and paper.

Details | Lyric | |

I Wanted A Poem, Like This One

O, Mes Cher Amis! Such, I wanted 
A poem, so sweet, like this one;
A poem, so beautiful, like a fir
That grows and suits all seasons.

A poem so well penned; its words,
Sinking into the Earth’s heart year by year
And the rhyming, like a birdsong
Flowing into me above other forms.

Ahh, I can feel the words chime, 
Digitally reaching for my passion 
And heading for the understanding
That will hold my weary spirit.

If I sense the world is streaming down
Or, when the yellow orb won’t shine on, 
Will you take me without doubt and then 
Uplift me, from great pain to this poem 

That covers me like fine clothing---
We share, as the wind its gentle breeze,
As the wild dandelion its yellow hues,
As the Mother Earth its carpet of green?

Oui, Mes Cher Amis! Such, I wanted 
A poem, like this one; a poem that will 
Always be sweet and beautiful, like you 
Whenever I’m in the pangs of loneliness.

Details | Name | |

My Place

You are great because, 
You have opportunity to grow,
You are great because,
You have system to help you.

Don’t blame me, 
I am n’t criminal,
Don’t blame me, 
I am n’t ideal.

I understand as you understand,
I feel as you feel,
My poverty is curse,
Because you never prefer me.

Your religion always exploited me,
Your education always ignored me,
I am also not a beggar, If
You have selection a person on my place.

Details | Blank verse | |

Rain Drops

When first the cold wind,
Blew to them, they flew away,
To dance under the sky,
To welcoming the clouds.

They sat on the air waves,
And made tops as peak of mountains,
Tired rose up with its joy,
Up and down to cuddle birds.

Sea, Bird and Air convey massage,
To the plants and trees,
All shared their happiness,
To kiss rain drops.

Animals bathed their bodies,
Burning earth smiled once again,
New leaves and grass touched rays,
Nature delivered fruit and flowers in joy.

Unblocked and unbreakable affords,
Hide new dreams of love,
To touch un-awakened mind,
To keep this life for living.

Details | Verse | |

Son Of Devil

If academic degree is sufficient,
To mobilise or to activate,
To improve a vision of someone’s nature,
To learn skills and to provide,
Best opportunity to deliver,
A better service for the welfare,
And for a high standard for living,
I also succeed to get a higher degree.

When I found myself,
Degree develops only sources for living,
Not sufficient to establish,
Justice, Equality, Liberty and fraternity,
I had lost a balance of my life.
I stop to read only books on a subject,
I chose all the basics that I need,
To become a human: a civil person.

The society is facing injustice,
Inequality, bonded labour, racism,
Prejudicism, what is behind them?
Only degree holders,
If they were human and civil person.
Nobody cries on Earth for help,
Poverty, injustice, racism, 
Inequality and racism,
Is a provision of these intellects?

If they are educated,
Their standard should be based on education,
As they have belief,
And service, it seems,
There academic education is bluff.
Who does prepare children for suicides?
Who does care soldiers to kill innocents?
Who is greedy and not selfish?

Was Lord Jesus academic?
Was Lord Mohamed academic?
Was Lord Rama academic?
Was Lord Krishna academic?
Why these academic people still have belief,
Heaven is better place for living,
They are dishonest and corrupt,
They deliver cruelity and exploitation,
 Because they are son of Devil.

Details | Free verse | |

Mini Tree

Pop out one stands more than another
mini planet on center-tree
rapped bark out
and splayed with knotty nuisances
falling arms raising drops of 
golden brown if lucky
green if true
and if I, alive in breathing
share this experience may.

Details | I do not know? | |


Storm clouds blew in tempestuous winds
May's blue skies turned gray
Raindrops  pranced into dance ,
And fell to quench dry earth
Flying leaves ,branches sway
Empowered by her wind 
Stripping ,shredding 
week and rotted limbs 
A calming lullaby breeze
Tender and meek blew by
And bolts of lightning,and 
Bouts of grumbled thunder ceased
Only stillness and calm remained 
Too quickly thunderstorm was gone ...

Details | Free verse | |

I opened the door today

I opened the door today wondering why you’re here.
I opened the door today wondering why he always stares.
I opened the door today to see a perfect flight of stairs.
I opened the door today so I could go to the fair.
I opened the door today and the wind blew your hair.
I opened the door today to realize it was all a dare.
I opened the door today and realized no one cares.
I am not opening the door today. 
It’s your turn to go out the door.
You opened the door today and saw the rain come down.
You opened the door today and left with a frown.
You opened the door today and hoped your heart wouldn’t pound.
You opened the door today to go get a new “crown”.
You opened the door today while jumping up and down.
You opened the door today to make a journey to another town.
You opened the door today and didn’t make a sound.
We decided to go out the door together this time since 
We have both been let down by the door. 
We opened the door today and walked a couple miles. 
We opened the door today and went to check some files.
We opened the door today and gave some random smiles. 
Neither of us are opening the door today.
This door is staying shut. 
Tomorrow we will go out the back door.

Details | Verse | |

Idea A Strength,

Idea is immortal,
A person, animals, birds, 
Trees, plants, mountains,
River, grass, every thing dies,
Except than air and light. 

The world and nature has
Progress the cause of Idea,
Idea lives in air and light,
As a new baby grows,
With the help of air and heat.

A seed shoots itself, 
The cause of air and heat,
When you feel tired,
You may walk in fresh air,
When mind is cool, you heat it up.

Idea comes to touch your mind,
Body gets strength and starts,
Work until idea provides light,
A person feels happiness,
That who listens himself.

Details | Lyric | |

As I think Of It

My poem, as I think of it,
I am taken to solitude of happiness,
Where the bitter memory of yesteryears 
Disappears, without traces.

I am delivered in spirits
From hell of anxieties to an exotic paradise
Of hope, where it is me and my poem
Alone for a moment.

There’s rhyming sonnet, and beautiful verses
Even a haiku, too, you’ll see as you gently peek 
Thru my soul, fed by the reflection ripples of the sea
With placid water so warm and really blue. I sigh.

The magical seasons of pink summer night,
Of white winter noon,
Of golden fall day,
Of bright-green of early morn. I breathe.

Sweet caress from the rhyming sea  
As I look deeper into my heart,
A poem, sweet as me as I whisper to you
My life, not of yesterday, but of today.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Super Quiz Annoucement

Hey, guys...Since I've been negligent regarding clue posting; The Super Quiz 
deadline will be extended till midnight of Friday 10/19/07.  So, good luck- and 
here is clue recap, once again- No. 1)It can be associated with keyboard humor.  
No.2)Yikes, strikes, thumbs in dykes/dikes- actual spelling should have been 
dikes-  remember, I admit being brain-dead.  No.3)It's namesakes generally 
come in pairs.  New; No.4) It's sweet to the senses, of that, you can bet your hat.
Good Luck!!!

Details | Name | |

Personal Goal

Few people has strong objections,
They advised me, don’t forget, 
Your tongue is also your mother,
It is a duty of us to serve for it.

I wrote twenty five years,
For one language, one nation,
And one race, they never accepted me,
I had long suffering without appreciation.

I have no limit but my patience,
Has a limit that develops courage,
How long a person can walk alone? 
A burning belly needs something to burn.

Nobody works free, wages or salary is need,
A person who wants to live, a chain of supply,
Is only a satisfaction for living? Personal goal,
It isn’t a matter in which way do you serve.

Details | I do not know? | |


It's amazing to know that an apple tree comes from a seed.
Mother Nature is a wonderous thing indeed.
As it bears fruit, it only needs water and sunlight.
It's amazing that a single seed produces a tree that grows to such an amazing 

Details | Free verse | |


The tenderness of your kiss
All the things I'll truly miss
The beauty of the day
The sky that's far away
All the stars in the sky
Every plane that passes by
The stillness of the sea
A reflection of me
Everybody that I love
Each a beautiful dove

Details | I do not know? | |

The Poet's Eye

How like a mountain range's magnificent
  arrangement,deeply rooted;
Much like rhymes' jagged precision,
  best most carefully executed;
And from terrible dawn inspiration's
  drawn,rising behind distant peaks;
Tors lit by Day's breaking beauty,
  the noblest form the Poet seeks.
Each word a seperate crag,erupting
  abruptly from consuming dark;
The Poet's eye soars,an eagle circling
  on high,hunting that which to hark.
A predatory search of surroundings
  awash in heat of the new Sun;
Intense contemplation of majestic 
  ridges from which darkness must run.

Details | I do not know? | |


A caterpillar is ugly until it turns into a butterfly.
A butterfly's beauty is very pleasing to the eye.
When you witness this metamorphosis, it is very cool.
It's amazing to know that something so ugly becomes something so beautiful.

Details | Senryu | |

Somewhere In Our Hearts

somewhere in our hearts
there is a haiku written,
in own sweat and blood

Details | Lyric | |

Soon As They Come To Me

I will 
Try to catch 

Of the wind, 

Whoosh of mine...

And cherish them, dearly. 

As they 
Come to me,

Of the wind,
Given time... 

I’ll hold them, just for you.   

Details | Didactic | |

Life Is A Treasure

Life has many phases:
It is an infant helpless in the arm of its protector;
It is a child with no clear vision;
It is an adolescent trying to make choices;
It is an adult with 'clear vision',
It is an aged with reminiscences,nostalgia and ???

Life is a merry go round:
Today it's sweet,tomorrow it's bitter;
Today so full of choices,
Tomorrow so full of helplessness;
Today it's kind,tomorrow it's harsh.

Life itself is not constant;
The only constant being it has to change.
What is left to you-is it helplessness in your arms,
Or full of so many choices?
Whatever it is,