To penetrate the fresh bloom of a flower,
is a rare joy, a kind of love felt deeply,
when virgins struggle, full of desire's power,
then collapse in warm, sensual link so sweetly.
With one, I have not known such love before;
not in a touch, but found in books and lines,
a joy that I love, rapturously explore,
and whose sung beauty lyrically shines.
Although I'll never know the former love
aforementioned, the Muse's consolation
is my reward: chaste, and pure as a dove,
she uplifts me to peaks of inspiration!
If love must be to love a woman only,
then the Muse's bloom keeps me from being lonely.
We were worlds apart, yet when words were selected
Something special happened, and we became elected
We chatted about our families, us in generalisation
Our works, our likes, our wants, to familiarisation
Next thing we knew, I, flight booked, nigh on 8000 miles
Upon landing at 'Ninoy' to be met with hundreds of smiles
McBlimey, I said to myself, is Eloisa amidst those faces
Even my eyes focusing in, struggling their radar traces
On the exiting from arrivals, I heard a sweet voice say
"James" as I turned around, my focus in smiling stay
Taxi pickup, hotel bound, with chitter chatter, we're sound
Week to week passing we're sweet, on Philippine ground
Intramuros, Batangas, Santa Rosa, and onto Lake Taal
Me loving Volcano's, we Tagaytay, looking down in thrall
Having seeing the aforementioned, to Manila we'd head back
So, so hard to leave this lush, and so hope there's no wrack
I'm now standing in the middle of the road, waving goodbye
She never turned, turnaround, we two, too emotional in cry
X
Dear General Public will you pardon me? Inclusive
with grace and give me mercifulness.
A green light to advance, proceed. May I express
Myself?
Who will wipe the tears off from my eyes? That
Society has caused these aforementioned inner
pain that oftentimes overwhelms me
May I express myself?
The affection of my mother,
a solemn silence of apathy and burning,
the affection that assisted my inevitable yearning,
yearning for fondness, empathy, passion and love,
a cemented wish from the fumes above,
the fumes which escaped from my annual candle,
the vehemence too disconsolate for a young girl to handle,
the solemn silence remains a verifiable memory,
embossed into my soul as if an accessory,
the annual candle, the wish aforementioned,
the yearning, the exigency for a mothers affection.
God is not a cliche,
but a derivative of historical man's interpretation
via ancient civilizations' understanding
as to what a 'deity'
symbolic model
that they had extrapolated
for the mere reason of
controlling the masses
by undergoing thorough
the guides and, or guise
known as
"centralization of ideology."
Easy if you got a book
like a Bible,
or a Koran,
or a Torah,
etc.
Egypt had Ra,
Romans had Jupiter,
Greeks had Zeus,
Norsemen had Odin
and American Indians according to their tribes
and Hawaiians had them too
our's was Kane
Thanks to the missionaries,
who had brought the 'g'od fact into perspective,
via,
the capitalization factor.
In my view,
'tis a futile attempt of
The Early Churches
to part WAY
what I--
and the silent,
have known ...
in the aforementioned.
It was part of my thesis
for Theology Admittance
when I was 16,
extra points for raw concept
methinks ethnic bias--Hawaii College.
Easy with my Mom, ...
"Just 'mum' on that subject son."
If you could look into your future and choose one day to see what would happen, what day would that be and why...
I pick tomorrow.
I wake up, have my coffee, sugar, and cream, then read emails, and messages, open up poetrysoup and read poems, and comments, then write comments, and poems or go shopping, pick up meds, post office get mail, eat out, doctors, labs, x-rays, physical & occupational therapy visits, and those unexpected visits like a salesman. Then there's the neighbor, a longtime friend, and of course the, few and far in-between family visits. There are also some sports events or an interesting movie on the TV.
Then, that routine that I've accustomed myself to -- suddenly stopped, and the probability it would most likely concern a medical issue.
Given my present conditions, what would happen...is the question being asked of me for an answer.
I fear that the aforementioned routine will come to a catastrophic and prolonged medical end.
If not The End...
Betrayal's kiss was liquidly subtle, wet with firm
intuition
It's knowing lips soft & unassuming exuded
an aura of lust
Full of temptation it beckoned me portraying
illusions of trust,
but behind the mask were sharp teeth seeking
bloody incisions
The intimacy came with bad intentions closely
guarding its actions,
but being adjacent afforded insight into its
deadliest passions
My reaction were firewalls to be erected
at once,
as I stood in the middle of 2 pillars pondering
destruction of fronts
The aforementioned affront was spoken of to
the deepest of mind,
but was ignored as toxic venom intoxicated
the mind
The silver lining? A coined phrase hanging
like ropes from a tongue
"Make sure that you look before you leap" as more
betrayals will come
The warning was heeded so I escaped by the
skin of my teeth,
as the streets watched the intersections speaking
of the fate I would meet
In the end, I was delivered from the mouth of
the beast, emerging with mindset
firmly intact
I was meat, but indigestible because my peace
brought equilibrium back
I want to be a writer
I want words to worm their way
Out of the outer oblivion orchard
Where I pick pink pieces of my mind.
I want to be a poet
I want poppies picked perfectly preserved
From the consciously created cracks of concrete
Found situated solidly in separated stanzas.
I want to be a singer
I want sounds seeping from senseful songs
Instead of trapped tearing at my terrible tongue
As my vocals vanquish my volatile vocabulary.
Unfortunately, the aforementioned is abandoned due to abysmal accidents.
SOFT NIGHT SO QUIET
MY SAD HEART CAN'T TAKE A RIOT
MY THOUGHT PROCESS MAKES A GENTLE WISH
I OFTEN DREAM OF THAT CAREFULLY DIVINE SWISH
THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME TO BE COMPLETELY STILL
IT IS AT THIS TIME THAT I CAN COMPLETELY FEEL
THOUGH NOWHERE NEAR, I CAN STILL HEAR THE WATER FLOW
NO SENSE OF FEAR, I CAN PERSEVERE AND JUST SIMPLY GO
I FELT COMPELLED TO SHARE THE AFOREMENTIONED WITH YOU
WISHING THAT YOU WERE STILL HERE, I SAY GOODNIGHT, AND PLEASENT DREAMS TOO
A photo on a dating site
How gorgeous that girl looked
By text we flirted all that night
And I was truly hooked
She looked like a celebrity
Like Marilyn Monroe
With sexy eyes and pouting lips
And slim from head to toe
We texted till we felt at ease
And then we made the choice
We swapped our numbers eagerly
To chat some more by voice
She said some sexy things to me
(And some that made me blush)
I praised her lovely curly hair
She praised her own hairbrush
But I’m a proper cockney
And it turns out so was she
One thing she did the same as me
Was say ‘H’ silently
So when we met I got a shock
It seemed I’d got it wrong
Her ‘H’ had not been silent
For an ‘H’ did not belong
She hadn’t used her hairbrush
And her airbrush was long gone
Because the girl in front of me
Looked just like Elton John
______________
[‘Goodbye Norma Jean’ from ‘Candle In The Wind’
by the aforementioned Mr John]
Babies
Children
The greatest gift on earth
The gift of life itself
Call the Midwife
1 Born Every Minute
Unfortunately life as we
have come to know it
Is also insatiably Cruel as well
As the aforementioned greatest
Gift of all on earth the gift of life
Is sadly also sometimes bestowed and
then both wasted and taken for granted
on those who can
And taken and stolen away from those
who can't
And again it is sadly the very same
children and babies
That eventually at the end of the day
Who are the ones to suffer and pay
the ultimate price and cost
Of growing up and then having to
face up to the consequence of knowing
Their parents never actually wanted them
or had any interest or intention of ever
loving them
And I can only imagine that is not a life
that any child or baby would
ever wish or willingly want to be born
into
Through absolutely no fault of their own
Exactly just like those unfortunate who
are unable to have children or babies
of their own very own
To each and every single individual
Who has ever been kind enough
to have taken his or her time
To stop and read anything of mine
that I have written
And afterwards also then taken
a moment of their time to pass
comment
Tonight I am feeling loved up so
this is targeted at you
From the bottom of my heart I
would both kindly and sincerely
like to reciprocate
And thank you in this here poem
in the 1st person as I myself
Because what you have in effect given
me is far more than I ever ought and
thought I possibly deserved let alone
dare wish
So thanks again to each and every
single aforementioned 1 of you
For both giving and blessings me
with that which I have never had
Nor could be bought so in effect is
priceless beyond belief
Because above all else the 1 thing
I never ever gave a damn about let
alone believed in
Was anything but myself
So here's to you this here 1 is especially
dedicated to each and every 1 of you
A Scotsman voyaged through the highlands
Thickly covered with lush, purple heather
Kilt adorned and bare, his regions nether
Feeling breezy on this, a grand endeavor
He trekked across enjoying balmy weather
Heather gray sky and ben blend together
Through the loch did wet his boots of leather
The effort causing removal of his sweater
Warm with heather yarns the colours speckle
He laid it on the hillside and rested, however
Off in the purple heather shrub was a new treasure
A lass holding a bouquet of aforementioned heathers
Whether or not she knew, she blushed behind her freckles
And when she saw him, the meeting was a pleasure
Her laugh as soft and light as a floating feather
They grew a love that no one could deem to measure
Happily ever after, and of course, her name was...Gertrude
At the ascension of the crystal
Stair of humanity, I embrace the totality of each step, each more carefully navigated. The creaking of uncertainty and discord from previous steps flashes before my thoughts, as each leg is lifted only to be forgotten amongst the dynamic placement of each foothold,with any of aforementioned merely a faded picture within loquacious movement, but a mirror with no reflection, for there is no looking back into conquered darkness only a transition up the staircase to a familiar void, desolate yet forthcoming At the same time. Levels become legality of stride each one freeing up, making up, reinvigorated me,keeping my mind on constant guard of the attack , for the mountain top, has a valley in which this ascension can't and won't be, nor will it incapacitate, for I will never be God willing a reprobate mind or soul, elevation has its whole. And may this staircase take me to every blessing and aspect earned and deserved, allowing personification in every word.
Lamar a. Williams Sr.
Requirements, or strictures, often stifle creativity
Thus, I tend to avoid forms with strict syllable count,
I appreciate a suggested topic, but I may not feel it,
And the message of any poem should be paramount.
Best expressed in the poet’s unique choice of phrases
Its origins are necessarily found in the poet’s psyche,
Blossoming with rhythm reads with robust originality
Prepared themes often cripple the poet’s authenticity.
The great poets of yesteryear allowed clear departures
Which accounts for the proliferation of poetry forms,
Today, our mutations of the long-accepted sonnets,
Variations on old French formats, are accepted norms.
So, none of the aforementioned are revealing secrets,
But giving credence to the diversity of poetic outlets.
Written July 11, 2022
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