Don’t spread cremation crumble on burnt toast.
Is what the undertaker said about dad’s ashes.
My furrowed brow responds…
Why? Who would do such a thing?
If you were to follow a random person
from the street, ever wonder, where it might lead?
You just might pick some ordinary schmo.
single?
innocent?
cavalier?
kind?
You may find out something—wishing you hadn’t
psycho?
shallow?
yokel?
callous?
hapless?
omnicidal?
Would you spread cremation crumble
on burnt toast or follow a random street person?
a place preserved in memory
as if in mystic fantasy
where revolutionaries farmed and fought
no time for speeches or dialectic thought
a place where survival was the goal
requiring discipline, stamina, self-control
where it was ‘from each according to his ability
to each according to his needs’…
a place somewhere between museum piece
and curiosity
~ every Israeli kibbutz in the 1930's
I was looking at the world through my eyes,
curious to see its parallel side.
I had grief because I was seeing it through blood,
but as I heard my praises and insults,
glanced over the beautiful mountains
and growing poverty,
that became my biggest pride —
to witness the world like this.
But when my hand started to grow cold
from the pain and suffering,
I saw the blood was in my hand.
i call his name, flowing silk that slips away.
a faceless voice whispers on the breeze.
i embrace the sound, wave its bouquet like a wine,
and touch it with my tongue.
i clutch it in my hands like running sands through my fingers.
and it lingers for a moment and is gone.
You are a prisoner of your own mind,
Chained within a cell,
That binds your thoughts,
And conceals your head.
Fragile, hidden, perfectly eclipsed,
Your mind lacks the fortitude,
It needs to be left in.
You speak without pride.
Without light, without voice.
Your words lack connotation,
The way your mind lacks grace.
In sorrow, in numb,
You are all you did not want.
So, you remain in your bed,
In your cell,
In your mind-
Your prison keeps you safe,
Or does it keep you confined?
From the world, you could change,
And the art you could make.
Is your prison a cell that you can’t escape?
Or your mind, a Pandora box one can’t contain.
Walls soft as the sky,
scatter courage, let it fall,
mistakes are doorways
sprinkle laughter through the air,
hearts grow wide and curious.
A spark ignites, a question form,
A curious mind that breaks the norms.
It seeks, it stirs, it will not sit still.
A restless fire, a growing will,
From page to thought, from thought to deed,
It learns not just to know, but lead.
Mistakes are steps, not cause of fear.
Each stumble makes the vision clear.
Observe, reflect, connect, and create.
The mind evolves at every gate.
Through wonder, work and reflection,
We built the bridge to education.
No walls confine, no chains restrain,
A learning mind breaks every chain.
For knowledge is not just a notation,
Its life itself, a mind in motion.
Playing with words is like playing with Play-Doh for the first time,
mixing colors
messing with structures,
feeling it's designs between your fingers.
All five of them.
And then delicately stroking its surface with the others,
learning to comprehend the difference between smooth and rough,
and that the difference between them defines beauty.
It's like wiping the floor clean with its sticky skin,
and seeing van Gogh and Picasso
in the lines that separate red and yellow.
Really, it's just like being a kid again,
and experiencing the awe of simplicity,
the excitement of creativity,
and the gravity of curiosity
May we be blessed
every hour of every day
every day of every month
and every moth of every year
to choose compassion over judgement
and curiosity over fear.
A veil of mystery, a whispered unknown,
What lies beyond, when life's last breath is blown?
I gaze at stars, a universe so vast,
And wonder where our souls, their anchors cast.
Is it a slumber, a dreamless, endless sleep?
Or do we soar on wings, secrets to keep?
A reunion with loved ones, a celestial embrace?
Or a journey begun, to a brand new space?
Do memories linger, like echoes in time?
Or fade like whispers, in a forgotten rhyme?
Is there a judgment, a weighing of the soul?
Or a gentle release, making us whole?
The questions linger, a fire in my heart,
A yearning to know, before I depart.
But perhaps the answer, is not for us to find,
Until we cross the threshold, and leave this world behind.
Nothing more will come from this. A cat and mouse affair
Boredom now replacing the mystery of you, you so carelessly revealed
You’re no devil, just as I’m no angel. I’ve grown complacent, in common place.
It seems this thing has run its course
Think of me cruel, remember me not.
Keep in mind the lesson. Make distinctions. Then be gone
I wonder why the air is not seen?
Is it too naughty or is it too clean?
I wonder why the water seems blue?
Is it still choosing which colour will do?
I wonder why I can't fly?
Did I do something wrong or did I lie?
I wonder and wonder where is my tail?
Mom assures me though it'll come soon by mail!
I wonder why the rainbow is bent?
Is it too old or is it too hight to mend!
Questions don't end do they?
And I'm not surprised curiosity ends with a why.
Written for the contest: Holiday Humor- Limerick Set
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Contest Judged: 11/17/2024 11:17:00 AM
Placement: 2nd
Our Halloween cat finally brought home,
Cuteness on display like models in Rome,
Even it shines so nice,
Like jewels of good price.
Fun smiles when it's allowed to freely roam.
Two cat buddies thought they had a new friend,
This big-eyed stranger toy cat could not bend,
Having a sway motion,
With no emotion.
To all their cat plays its mood could not blend.
Its curious hosts never saw its jumps,
Like a drunkard its walk is full of slumps,
So smittened so bad,
To make it feel sad,
But when it got shattered they both felt trumped.
30th, October, 2024
In the natural world the bat is an anomaly,
For it seems to me that neither bird nor beast is he.
He can fairly fly, but lays no eggs,
Can barely crawl, he has no legs,
And yet this little guy's been able
To inspire an opera*, films**, a fable***.
Though his identity's unstable,
For some he's acquired of Muse the label,
And for that I must admire his versatility.
*"Die Fledermaus"
**Any one of hundreds of vampire movies
***One of Aesop's
Author's Note: This is a little early, but Happy Halloween, PS.
In the center of the Moon
exists life, removed from sight,
until dawns its evolution.
Within Earth's organic evolution,
what exists on Earth as on the Moon?
Imagine the surreal sight!
From abstractive sight,
what ontogenetic evolution
is emerging on the Moon?
The Moon has, in Earth's sight, an alien evolution.
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