Poem | |
Can love then, be based
on an index of elements
from which one joyfully tumbles,
or drifts into equations, as we wander
toward a rush of serendipity ...
a metaphysical merging of ardor
writhing in a shared communion
like tuneful whispers in breaths of helium,
unabbreviated oxygen rhapsodies
from unbidden laughter,
invigorating the warmth of co-owned stars
on heaven’s destined oracle?
Love transcends chemical derivatives
of fractals or measurement,
between our atoms, relaxed
in the shuffle of emotional electrons
as we quiver weightless...
the heart’s embrace suspended together
in the affectionate cosmos
of a deep kiss.
“How on earth can you explain in terms
of chemistry and physics so important
a ...phenomenon as first love? “-- Albert Einstein
Anthony Slausen’s Periodic Table Of Elements
More great poems below...
Poem | |
Those of you with a unique voice,
with a vision painted outside the lines of over-regulated cadence and rhyme,
I implore you to continue exploring a core
that is fearless in writing against the grain of convention --
for this very friction is a sandpaper helping to perpetually re-invent
yourself by smoothing your raw, unfiltered passion
into a timeless chair in which people of the future will sit in
while reading your poetry ....
.... and their brows will crease, their eyebrows will arch into gates
where sighs of enlightenment will pass through,
for they are reading poetry that has not lost its novelty,
nor is it mimicry: a despondent, washed-out version
of 20 million other identically tired poems already written and read.
If you feel yourself being sucked down by the undertow
of homogenization, fight against the current, drag yourself onto shore,
let sunlight percolate pure word-intentions from the nucleus
of your ancient psalm-writing ancestry.
Your ancestors left behind DNA building blocks,
disciplinary examples and practices
with which to construct mitochondrial drift
that bridges together the past and future
into a runway for you to take-off from
after the training wheels have been removed,
and gain a bird's eye view of what was,
what will always be sacred but not yours to build a mynah nest in
once truth's marrow is tasted from its winged divine inspiration --
a bird's eye view lifting above carbon-copy complacency.
To always be the freedom that manifests your luminous originality.
September 18th, 2013
*Author's Note: This piece isn't about writing in form or not writing in form.
To ass.u.me such, is being short-sighted.
Having been a member here for years now, I have noticed a recurring phenomenon
on this site. Many times, new members join who showcase a freshness, a sharp distinction in their style and poetic voice. They are a breath of fresh air for this site
to breathe in. Over time, one can literally watch some of these members begin to homogenize themselves into a more general, stale style of writing. I am not sure
wot all the variables are for this phenomenon, and it likely differs according to each experience. Depending on circumstance, I can only speculate the reasons why some people are willing to compromise their distinctness on this site. Maybe sometimes it happens because of entering too many contests? Of wanting to fit in with the flock?
When I do see it happen, I want to yell: "No, no, no! Stop! Please don't do it! Turn
back while you still have the chance! Please don't compromise your distinctness for some inane contest .jpegs and congratulations, or insincere, back-patting comments. One sincerely inspired comment, is worth more than 10,000 petty comments -- worth
so much more."
Poem | |
Psychological phenomenon, perhaps
A little dubious but still enigmatic; you know
Rare stimulus through our enthusiastic eyes...
Eyes or ears that brings awe and fear; why not?
Images in abstract forms, we believe in forms!
Designs and figures created by lazy clouds; did you get it?
Or mysterious shapes, or illusions in visions...we're almost there
Lying on ground, marks or impressions...lying? Follow me...
Intimidating or inspiring? ...I think that the Sphinx Head on Mars
At night, only at night...it looks just like aunt Beth.
World English Dictionary
Pareidolia: the imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist, as in considering the moon to have human features, or religious images in windows and walls or in clouds resembling animals or faces.
Poem | |
Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time
For it is a phenomenon she merely sees
She pours forth abundance for all that behold her
Even for those of us that scold her
And for naught she was cursed from the beginning
There she is—interminable Time at the fullest!
And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy
She rules over our hearts
Keeping stress in our spirits
Not once does she feel sorry for us
Nor is she indifferent of our failures
She begs not for gratefulness
And accepts who she is with joy!
How ample we would be if we
Like she—were free of trepidation
If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom
Filled with untainted approval
What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time
But ah, she is both heartless and kind
And though we hate her peculiar aura
Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds!
How stressfully beautiful Time is!
Like a wink of venerated bliss
She smiles and smiles
And our ironical faces feel like grime
Still she laughs in mirth
While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred
Wanting more and more of her
And positively hating her
We that cannot see her began to hate
For we are as visible and low as can be
And we acknowledge her merely to insult her
Though she takes no pang to the chest
For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs
That she simply returns to each sender
Hidden is our pride
But ever placed
Is our inscrutable mortality
And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates
Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate
Thus we regard her only as a concept
As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal
For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes
Think, eat, drink or feel
We use her—yes! Even abuse her
Not once will she complain
For her gift is everlastingness
Poem | |
Each Friday recedes in burgundy
Bathed ardently in Luna’s kiss
But, Sunday will dawn cerulean
With dulcet tones of lovers’ bliss
Bearing flavors wantonly consumed
I greet each hue voraciously
I taste the spectrum more than I see
My senses piqued peculiarly
As kaleidoscopic concertos
Obscure my sight in grand array
Each blending shade completes the phrasing;
Brilliantly, prism love songs play
*For Brian Strand's "Intervals" contest.
Note: The concept for this piece was inspired by those who experience a phenomenon called
More great poems below...
Poem | |
Its universe drapes time in buoyancy
Where endless space binds law of attraction
Atoms merging, clasped by human light
An energy wheeling freely, unseen;
‘Til moonlight climbs inside lovers’ halo.
Exploring their path, frenzy unlike space
Through quantum leaps weightless among new stars
Ascending on scales of breaths without measure,
Like passion heating a current; two mouths press.
Dazed by such fusion, wheel of Physics nods
To bring glow, showing what it's always known
Soul's beauty, radiating love unbound;
As dusk explodes to bless fluid motion.
With gentle fire, night sky dare not question
A universe lost in a trance of love’s spark;
There is no logic to explain,when
Affection blends cosmos of a kiss.
"Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people
falling in love. How on earth can you explain
in terms of chemistry and physics so important
a biological phenomenon as first love?
Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems
like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour
and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.”
Personifying Science Contest, Sheri Fresonke Harper
by nette onclaud
Poem | |
I was born in a time
When the thrills of a thriller
Did move the bricks
Of the thickest of walls.
I grew in an era
When the dynasty of an empire
Did expand to farthest of lands.
I adapted to a phenomenon
When the existence of a legend
Did drown the fame of mortals.
A fame in immortality
Bearing the impenetrability
Of Achilles himself,
Destined to march
Through the walls of Troy.
I twisted to the strings
Of a guitar, twanging
Spontaneously in my head,
In moves of invisibility.
I was opportune to appear
In a time, when the conquest
Of one king, did crest
Long lasting tattoos
In the hearts of many.
I was fascinated in a time
When the life within a man
Did blossom young,
As he lived unaffected
By the fading of time.
I lingered in an era
When the voice of one man
Could unify the sections
In a complex world.
I flowed in his guidance,
Dined in his glory
As though I existed
In his peak of enthronement,
His conferment of Grammies.
Bedazzled by his flexibility,
I was blessed by his power
To rein in anointed glory,
I was born in an empire
Governed by a king;
The king of pop,
A king in the world,
Father of offspring
As multiple as stars.
Electrified by a star,
There shall never be another;
Another motion slider,
Another shining star.
And though he passes on,
I shall live to declare
That I was born in a time
Ruled by a legend,
Guided by an immortal,
A world of Michael Jackson.
Poem | |
UNSUPPORTED CODE UNSUPPORTED CODE
I am a double agent
Your best weapon but worst enemy
I am a window of understanding
The phenomenon o fan unexplained mystery
I am the muse of inspiration
And the saint of self-expression
I am the puzzle of your riddles
And the key to your dreams
I am a controversial image within your shadow
A moment within your thoughts, which is not
I am a wish cursing myself
Willing myself away from being
I am a poisoned love spell
And a book you never stop reading
I am a murderous hunter
With all the good intentions
I am a victim of coincidence
And unanswered questions
I am a sexual desire
Desired and loving oneself
I am the light in your darkness
And the darkness of the next light
I am the conventions of society
Writing its next life
Poem | |
It's like getting your leg amputated
For a while the phantom limb throbs and aches
Until you recognize and accept the fact
That it's just a ghost playing evil pranks
A phenomenon occurs in the morning
That will forever remain a mystery
Those few seconds between waking and sleeping
When you don't yet realize who or where you are
You get a short reprieve until
"Oh yeah, I don't have a leg anymore"
For HGarvey Daniel Esquire's contest
Poem | |
Not always of love
I am a mass of sells
My name fetus
My domain a womb
My reason for being uncertain
Yet swollen feet cravings and spitting a belly
Swelling morning sickness creating
Embarrassing episodes and milk escaping the
Confines of swollen breast tells the story of my
Presence my devolvement though exciting and
Fulfilling takes its toll on the body that sustains
As I strive to grasp life waves of sound interrupt
My privacy and illustrate my nakedness
And I question
Should I forsake my effort or would fate deny me
Entry to a world my perception deems imbued in
The follies of man
In my restlessness I stretch and kick
A phenomenon that excites my bearer
Perpetuating an anxious happiness
That lingers throughout my existence
In the likeness of man my body the image of my
Creator my soul
I enter this world
And with a cry I pronounce my arrival
The pain of my nativity forgotten
The joy of my birth takes its place in the heart
Of my Mother
Earl S. Jackson
Copyright © 2010 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved
Poem | |
I awoke one morning
It was incredibly bright
I drew back the curtains
To a most amazing sight
It was like we had two suns
Orange orbs, floating in the sky
The heat that was being emitted
I felt the atmosphere dry
I turned on the TV
It must be on the news
From where i stand
Surely I'm not the only view
Is it a phenomenon
Or nature playing her tricks
The camera crews are at NASA
Lets see what they make of it
Deep in outer space
An explosion we can't comprehend
Has sent a massive meteor
To our moon it's journey ends
Our world is now in peril
The Moon held us stable
Can us scientists do something
I'm not sure we are able
There will never be many times
When the whole world stopped and stared
But this is one of those times
We have every right to be scared
Poem | |
Physics of the moon
I feel the lunar ecstasy in your heart
Connecting our vibes from over 1500 miles apart
With every swing of my mood ring, my sensational heart will sing
An out of this world phenomenon tune, "you are my everything!"
Absorbing every phase the moon goes threw
Sending energy between me and you
When our eyes meet on the darkest side of the moon
Your body mass rotates like a cyclone hitting my land like a typhoon
Like the gravity that bonds the earth and moon together
Our souls will collide with a massive force of forever
The image of you appears at all times like a moon cycle
Like a cascade running all around my mind, like a halo circle
Our love and vision orbits through every star
Giving us light no matter how near or far
The stars throb around the moon like a secret signal in the night
While you inhale my energy that exceeds into the morning light
Like a rainbow that enters and vanishes into the twilight of our sky
Our first kiss under the moon beam will twist our tongues into a tie
A sweet magnetic shadow will remain under the half moon
Sweeping our love above the clouds to float like a balloon
Holding a reflection with the moon's tide
Our journey continued, side by side
Emerging our love to find its way soon
Like a love mirage with the physics of the moon
Poem | |
SUNSET vs' SUNRISE
** Sunset **
The afterglow flame
Creeping under the cold creek
Daylight, gone again
** Soap Dish **
Daytime TV blues
Tune in tomorrows soap box
Dramatic, dusk wind
** Evening Star **
Tired sound waves
Waiting for eventfulness
Hour of the beast
** Atmospheric **
Under the zodiacal night
Kisses and shivers
** Twilight **
Locked in my slumber
Vampire face awaken
Thirst like no other
** Sundown **
What goes up, has to come down
crowfeet, black and white
~~ Tequila Sunrise ~~
Break of day, snooze
Cockcrow without a whisper
~~ DAWN ~~
Sunny side egg twist
~~ New Moon ~~
beautiful sun rays
Sun awaits for ebony
~~ Adjust the Setting ~~
Beyond the horizon sky
Sherbert colored beach
~~ Skipping Rocks ~~
Glitter dusk on lids
Birds sing me a lullaby
Kids playing by lake
~~ Sunrise Industry ~~
Golden streets with no stop sign
Lunch time draws nearer
Poem | |
One morning Dee woke to find the most unusual toad
Perched o’er the water line in the “bowels” of her commode
She put on gloves and sought to catch the elusive creature
But no matter how hard Dee tried, she just couldn’t reach her
So to the local newspaper, Dee wrote for assistance
A letter to the editor described Dee’s persistence
To her shock, the letter appeared the very next day
With her email below it for helpful hints to convey
Nearly seventy emails made their way to Dee’s inbox
Suggestions aplenty on how this critter to outfox
Some offered to come to Dee’s house and catch the motley toad
A biologist warned, “It can’t swim; don’t flush the commode!”
Dee lived very privately and wanted no strange house guests
So she declined “in-person” offers to pursue this quest
By day the toad managed to slip out of Dee’s gentle grasp
At night Dee reached for a toothbrush, felt a slithery clasp
The toad she called Todd was quickly escorted out the door
Although the potential for warts, Dee certainly abhorred
Newspaper staff got a kick out of Dee’s predicament
They called the next day to find out how her efforts had went
To all of the kind emailers Dee wrote of her success
But the public’s interest Dee was unable to suppress
So she wrote another letter, proclaiming, “The toad’s gone”
Concern for this toad was a noteworthy phenomenon
Beneath Dee’s letter describing Todd’s new outdoor abode
Was a cartoon and an ode to the toad in her commode
*Believe it or not, this is true!!! Happened to me when I lived in a wooded area.
A helpful biologist said it was a "tree toad" and couldn't swim.
Poem | |
Two magnets on the table lying cold and still,
Having much potential, doing good or ill.
When magnets attract each other, posts tightly bond.
Reversed, repel by the same phenomenon.
We too have potential; our influence reaching out
To our needy neighbors, suffering from doubt.
We also have ability, by equal force betray,
Our closed hearts repelling, turning them away.
By casual observation, persons looking on,
May miss the great sensation of reaching far beyond.
May our vast potential be magnetized for good,
Using our abilities that all good neighbors should.
"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
Love worketh no ill to his neighbor." Romans 13:9,10 KJV
Poem | |
The Iris - the spectrum in my glistening eyes
Beauty be that of rainbow hues on my face
Pigments painting mental images in my brain
Bewitching in art- coloring this my world
Enchanting creating the beauteous hues , I trace
I conclude - the beaming shades of awe
What a beauteous phenomenon perplexed wondering why?
The wonder amazed in the pupil of my eye
Visions - seeing the glamorous trees
I paint the birch flows with the black and white beauty
Thus I also see shades and the bark so prominent
Luscious the white - the ivory embedded in my mind
And the branches of the willow also flowing with the wind
With the breeze on my face - and the autumn leaves we find
Ah - gardens - flowers prominent too of hue
Bouquets of roses reflecting on you
I see the mountains - I see the waters
Still tracing the reflections in my id - my mind
Mentally I see blossoms - I see a solid rock
Of which to stand - God bless our land
May we walk paths feeding our eyes with colors
Predominant - Imagery now , I see the light
Painting the pictures in the beauty of daylight
In my world thus I appreciate and this I love
With the sunrise too in my eyes , from skies above
I am walking in life with God side by side
Instilling thoughts in my mind inside and outside
And may the world be always glistening
With thoughts in mind that God is always listening!
Poem | |
I look outside and see the snow
running from the clouds
and even though it’s hitting the
pavement at top speed, it lands ever
so gently and silently.
This phenomenon amazes me
every time it snows, which by the way
may or may not be very often where I live
but it does happen every year.
It really is quite beautiful to look at
when it covers everything like a beautiful
white fluffy blanket. My eyes wrinkle
at their sides as I smile at the beauty
of earths white crown. Children’s voices
ring with laughter playing in the soft
newly created playground and snow blowers
start their engines with a loud roar.
Also this happens every year.
I sit here in my warm cosy living room
with my fireplace burning, enjoying the
warmth inside and the beauty outside,
until nature calls my dog to come check her out.
I open the door and the cold air slaps me to reality,
and those green eyes of mine turn greener as
I think of my neighbors south of the boarder
who are still walking around with shorts on,
and despite the cold my envy burns every year.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: The Green Eyed Monster
Poem | |
One kazillion million miles away
Far off in a distant galaxy
Is the most fascinating phenomenon
It is a star making machine
Berthed from a vast expanse of gaseous matter
Twinkling lights are born
Not a single one like the next
Each with its different elements and colors
Like a magical wand whisking illuminating bubbles
The greatest show this universe has ever seen
One million and one mystical stars have arrived on the scene
Even with the Hubble Telescope
The world’s greatest scientists are unable to comprehend this show
It is truly one of the most fascinating shows in the universe—when a star is born!
A single star
A twisting and twirling gaseous maze of wonder
A single star
Not a single one like another
Jehovah God will not even allow the world’s most sophisticated telescope to unravel the mystery of his stars
It is incomprehensible how the Creator spins the elements
Elements not even known to the human periodic table
He exhales a small puff of his glory upon them and POOF they are born!
In order to see how a star is born you must be a child of the living God
You must travel to the heavens and visit the Observatory Deck
At that moment and only at that moment will the Creator reveal this mystery
The mystery of the universe
How a star is born!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
Poem | |
It was never enough for my good friend Ben,
To be a well known personality as a witty comedian.
No, no! Not for him, to be merely renowned among men.
He had to insist on being a phenomenon!
Poem | |
The autumn sky attunes itself to hearts,
a sour grey murky wash where lost eyes tire.
with insubstantial dust it affects so,
that vision blurs and minds retreat to when
those aged weary organs last supped hope;
and still they seek to quaff before it fades.
Mere dregs they hunger as the last joy fades
to quench beyond their volume broken hearts
and rehydrate that desiccated hope,
rejuvenate the goals before lives tire,
that minds may ponder not upon the “When?”
but concentrate on “What next?” and “How so?”
To take uncertain step, and take it so
as not to fear the fall if stair it fades,
would stir adrenalin so’s not to tire
the fragile confidence of tender hearts,
that they might respond quickly, those doves, when
presented opportunity to hope.
This then the grace of God, the wisp that’s hope,
which we in arrogance might dismiss so
upon our slightest whim and if and when:
an employee who on our command fades.
this grace exists beyond the grasp, the hearts:
phenomenon which will not doze nor tire.
See now how eyes do genuinely tire
as surcease emanates from new-found hope,
providing respite for those weary hearts:
hammock of restful sleep delivered so
the love embattled souls may rally when
their combined lumen some dark agent fades.
Thus through harsh winter flare as daylight fades
with fuel of ‘the multiverse’ entire,
the essence of which Lazarus lit when
his sisters had begged balm of Only Hope.
Such embers must be stoked to fierce blaze so
The Darkness may not touch creations’ hearts.
Faith should not tire when allocated hope.
Our God heeds not the ‘when’ of our say-so,
but stokes each heart with love that never fades.
Poem | |
How did we acquire the knowledge of getting food
following all protocols and procedures
of knowing when the Earth is in a fine mood
to give a handshake of bountiful harvest?
In search of knowledge and understanding
man has explored Nature, down to its hood
and due to his short comings, treated humanity unfairly and rude.
Knowing the mechanics of an existing phenomenon
makes one a happy and creative dude
but having no idea how it even existed
makes his understanding still bare and nude
Under a higher authority, we’re all nursed
be it a gentleman with the fine name-Jude
or matter in a non-stop pause
having no artery of sustenance like the wood
Life and existence, wisdom and health, He’s the source
Him- not even the microscopes can elude
He is existing, everlasting and much more than a force
He is no other than God and He is good.
Poem | |
To the people of the earth, we convey this greeting.
We are quite anxious for this long-awaited meeting.
Coming in peace, we are your cousins, as once before.
In a few hours, we’ll be reunited once more.
You will recognize us; our appearance you will know.
We see the sun we once shared ten million years ago.
The planet’s orbit remains between Venus and Mars.
History is forgotten, but we remember ours.
Our first arrival was with the great reptiles roaming.
Something happened, and we could not save them from dying.
Your entire world was completely warm and tropical.
This appeared to be the ideal place for our people.
Our interstellar travel made us masters of space.
However, we knew nothing of climate in this place,
or evolution and genetics within our race.
Your planet is in a section of isolation.
It takes many years to reach your civilization.
Our starships would be bringing news from the galaxy.
They would land three or four times in every century.
Your earth was once a constant tropical paradise.
However, climactic changes covered it with ice.
A strange phenomenon caused some harmless mutations.
Some of us were immune. There were no alterations.
This did not kill, or cause destructive physical harm.
It did start to arouse inevitable alarm.
Two separate groups arose over thousands of years.
Suspicion was perpetuated and caused great fears.
Those who did not leave earth sank into barbarism.
Envy, discord, and conflict were caused by the schism.
We had thought the end came for your civilization.
Your first radio signals gave us indication
that your culture has survived all these millennia.
This discovery has given us euphoria.
We see you have made your long ascent from savagery.
We are here to restore the long-lost fraternity.
We have uncovered much since we abandoned the earth.
Now that you are re-discovered, there will be much mirth.
Perpetual tropical climate, we will restore.
You won’t have to withstand freezing winters anymore.
With genetic mutation, there’s no need to endure.
For your offensive, yet harmless plague, we have a cure.
For what is now wrong, we have the power to make right.
Only let us know how many of you are still white.
Based on the short story "Reunion" by the late Arthur C. Clarke
Poem | |
To Tiger, With Love (A True Story)
"My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear"
~gone without a worldly trace,
I’m left alone, the world to face…
with one went my wholeness grace,
my treasure laid up in heavenly place…
~O my feline friend, my wholeness grace,
I’m left alone in the world to face…
many days I yearned and did pace,
missing your playful moods and face…
~one year ago said Love, my grace,
very soon your absence I would face…
with one, was laid up wholeness grace.
My Love said that morning to my face…
“with your return Tiger will be gone,
do not be alarmed, I do him no harm…
with your friend, there shall be not end,
wholesome grace is laid up for one in friend.”
~I kissed the nature face of wholesome grace,
he meowed goodbye, later I would cry…
as the dawn of grace later was to be faced,
in sorrow, the human man would soon pace…
~I remember the morning as yesterday,
and the many ways we used to play…
my neutered Manx possessed many pranks,
to him, I dedicate my wholesome thanks…
~unique, you were wholesome, meek,
your life to me was wholesome Love’s peak…
I hear his meow in wholesome ethereal Spirit,
beckoning…beckoning… my soul bonds ever close to it.
My Manx cat ‘Tiger’ is heavenly stored! This is a true story, believe it or not.
My inner conscience said to me the morning of the 19 of July this year before
I left to go into town, that Tiger would not be there at home when I returned
for he would be taken and with him, my treasures would be stored in heaven.
I said my goodbyes only half believing my sacred precept voice. Sure enough,
when I returned, my Tiger was gone without a trace. Sure, the concept of
the human mind could explain this paranormal phenomenon away.
But this was my eight year cat’s first and only leave from home,
whom I had raised from a kitten.
Poem | |
Riding on the back of an angel
travelling on a beam of light,
searching for the end of the rainbow
which always seems to be out of sight.
It seems to appear out of nowhere
but it’s colours are always the same,
and it comes mostly after a rainfall
so I think that accounts for it’s name.
A phenomenon created by nature
at least that’s what i’ve been told,
and i’ve heard at the end of the rainbow
is a magical pot of gold.
Poem | |
My Rhetoric Rhapsody
Oh! I am a Poet
It’s me again pretty poet of the century,
Breaking through till I reach mercury.
A pretty poet with popping phrases,
A poor poet with perpetual personality.
Praying that my poems pulls out pieces of pleasure,
Arouses interest, motivates and inspires.
Oh! I am a Poet
Who teaches as he preach
On every inch that becomes a cliché
And leaves your ears aching when reached.
Who frees frozen feelings of Refugees.
Who unfolds fundamental mysteries of false phenomenon.
Who washes and enshrines shameful ships on a sea shore,
Assuring Sheppard of Shelter by Lord Krishna.
Oh! I am a Poet
A rock solid hardcore poet
Self proclaimed Fundi
A super duper verse creator
A self sufficient professor
A prodigy not a protégé
A dictator not an agitator
A toughie not a roughie
I don’t recite to hear myself talk
I don’t talk to be noticed
I don’t take Hobson’s choice
Nor hobble to a hoax
I don’t settle for a bird in hand
Nor crawl for half a loaf
My reaches exceeds my grasp
My wishes akin to my riches
My poems are my pillar
My wits are my tools
No hocus pocus for my hoi polloi
I’m not a hoity-toity poet who scribbles down hokum poetry
My poetry is impalpable,
Inexplicable and impeccable.
My creativity is infallible.
My verses so impregnable.
I am an imperious poetic licensee
I am a rusty epic epidemic through youth poets’ wannabes,
A penurious poet who indulge in perilous peripheries.
My masterpiece is not some common handwritten handiwork on handkerchief.
I craft them like a handicapped handyman with no haphazard!
And this is my Rhetoric Rhapsody...
See, when I rhyme my rhymes that hum like hymns
And step on my Poetic Stiletto heels to find open minds
And dine in a pile of my rhymes...
My mimes start to mime my rhymes
And this is a route where I quote that this is not over yet...