Poetess she is, whose magic is cast with great ease
Opulent in words, charming to the utmost degrees,
Engraving hisses, silhouettes, images of natures surreal
Trespassing horizons never stretched out to an ideal
Destroyer as known for, although she's here to compose
Enchating poems and songs her beautiful soul bestows
Such a fusion encourages poets to hold their inks and quills
To write 'bout nymphs in seas or orchards filled with daffodils
Rampantly defeated by her as what often happens, except
Of all practiced skilled writers she's definitely the most adept
Yielded in a words-battle having a single acknowledged end
Efficacious "She" is by far a star who can simply transcend,
Reproductions of literary stylistic forms in her magnificent way
A lady I know as Linda with a pseudonym Poet Destroyer A!
© Guru Jad 2013
Dedicated with Admiration! :)
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
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
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.
Beauty abounds like the English Counties name
This all American girl, New Jersey dame
Curious I was when Devonshire graced my eyes
Then I started to read and what a surprise
This language we know written as art
Engulfed my enthusiasm, caressed my start
I just a novice on my writing road
Becoming totally absorbed, eventually showed
Learning my craft, soon we collaborated
This budding poet, no longer shaded
Her brilliant guidance, paved my lay
Alphabetical characters allow me my say
If he and I were neighbors,
Why, I doubt if we’d be friends.
On many major issues, we’d be
Found on different ends.
Just pick a topic and I know
We never would agree.
Our politics alone would prove
And yet, I love to read his poems
And he reciprocates.
Our writing’s formed a bond of which
There can be no debates.
His rhyming stories crack me up –
They’re laughter-generators –
And he’s aware I’m partial to
A poem that mentions “taters!”
So here’s to Robert Hinshaw,
My retired Air Force friend.
I’ll always be a reader of
Whatever he has penned!
‘ King David’s 23rd Psalm … ’ (Classical-Tribute) 61st Senryu
The Brave Should Know Song:
King David’s ‘ 23rd Psalms ’
Makes Warriors Stay Strong
There've been times in my life
where I've just had to say,
"I must, give it all up,
for, it's that kind of day"!
I must, really say this
I really, just must;
if I didn't say it,
then, it wouldn't be, "just".
There's this crazy, old man
we'll just call him, "Doc";
who fills up blank pages
with, "poetical talk".
He's scribbled, and scrabbled
'til way, past bed-time,
trying to finish each poem
and, complete every rhyme.
If he hadn't done this
he'd surely gone, "mad",
his nonsensical nature
was, all that he had!
No hidden agenda
when first, he wrote down,
each poem of nonsense
to erase a childs' frown.
And, Doc always did this
..so that , all of his poems
were merely geared, to amuse.
He loved to let nonsense
be the order of the day,
and, with every poem
we all smiled, the same way.
His only intention
was to set our minds, "free",
his style, just did it
With his own tongue, in cheek
we knew we'd been had,
and his poems rhymed perfectly
proving he was no, "fad"!
The volumes of topics
that Doc's written of,
included all that could be
written.....below, and above.
He's written of magic,
puzzles, and games...
..with, strange little creatures,
with, strange little, "names".
The, crazier his story,
the saner he'd feel,
and, the more that we heard
convinced us they were, "real"!
His poems, were genius
as he weaved us, a tale;
with, nonsensical rhymes
that did so, without..."fail".
"Old Doc", has quit writing
he's up in heaven,
this year, his birthday'd ...
make him, a hundred, and seven!
He's given advice,
taught what we must do,
he said, "Be who you are...
..no-one's youer, than....you!"
He's maybe still writing
in, heaven....you see,
that'd be just like him
as, that's who he must, be!
That, silly old doctor...
..as silly, as a goose;
we all loved his poems,
for, we loved Dr. Seuss!
my dear friend
my friend is always open to listen
always open to hear
my friend has always been there for me
my friend is always near
from as far as I can remember
in my childish years
my friend has always been clear
my friend has showed me which way to turn
many lessons from my friend I have learned.
my friend is one like no other
always honest & true
my friend will never lie
for my friend is none other than you.
the pen i hold in my hand
the paper sitting on my nightstand
the paints and paintbrushes
tell stories of who I am
they speak as no one can
the words in my poetry
are but an image
of my secret reality.
‘Edgar Allan Poe … ’ (Classical-Tribute) 64th Senryu
Edgar Allan Poe ...
Master of Scary Suspense
The Raven … The Pit and The Pendulum
House of Usher … Annabel Lee , etc.
(“She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night”)
one of my favorite poetry-lines