If God gave me multiple children to love
And one day, one of them came and asked
“Mom, who among us do you love more and the most?
“All of you, my sweetheart!” I’ll say with smiles...boast -
“For you’re all my precious gifts from God
He gave me the most bounteous blessings and love
Each time I gave birth and heard your cries
Pain of labor brought me million-karat smiles.”
I’ll hug that dearest child and call the rest
Alternately sit on my lap giving my warmest embrace
An equal treatment with steadfast sacrifices, love, care
A parent’s love dousing their jealousy anytime, anywhere.
As if startled awake
from fitfull sleep
Of dreams both cartoonish
Yet with meaning deep
My life having passed
as this very repose
A young woman
Now grand dame all as I dozed
For I must have been asleep
At the wheel
Alternately engaging
disengaging at will
One eightying along I sped through my life seventh decade now coming to pass
How will I cram in
All this life left to live before I run out of gas
Hey you young motorist
Yes I'm talking to you
I once thought of myself
As Immortal too
One day you'll arrive here as
Sure as night follows day
So listen to the words
I am moved to say
Make it count slay regret at its birth
Live fully and thoughtfully for all that your worth
To arrive at destination (well done)
I woke up from a dream
Of silliness I can't remember,
Though I am sure you were in it.
You are always there on the edge
Of my unconscience wandering
On the map to I don't know where.
Some say dreams are an alternate world
As real as the one in which I breath,
And in which, perhaps, you alternately exist.
Do you dream of me?
Find me and flood me with your silliness,
So in this world of joyless reality
I might laugh again.
Alternately marveling
and weeping
at what’s occurred
in my country
An assassin’s bullet
now a bloodless coup
in a span of eight days
~ a convention too
The routes we choose are choices.
The paths that take us to our destiny.
To save our life, we must make intelligent decisions.
on the choices we ultimately make.
We can decide to be courageous and resilient,
Or just go along for the ride.
We have the option to be kind and sincere.
Or you could be truthful and act selfishly.
We can decide to learn and be sage,
Alternately, go the stupid route and unlearn
Kiddish
Visited a posh shop on soft toys
for little babies, girls, also boys,
too crowded with lots of noises.
Got enchanted to make best choice.
A dreadful tiger was walking free
to move its neck just ninety degree
even capable to climb a tree,
operated by strong battery.
Yellow patches boldly glittering
Deep dark black brown stripes brightly shining,
large eye balls glowing glistening,
short fluffy tail waving, wagging.
Chewing, grinding on movable jaw.
Forward and backward was throwing paw
Alternately hiding, showing claw.
Also broad frightful yawning I saw.
Sharp teeth, scarlet tongue, stuffed in soft foam,
It can snore, it can roar and can roam.
I developed cute kiddish syndrome
Tempted to buy and brought it at home.
daughter, Emily says
"pa,
grape
peach
strawberry
Take and eat it with ma
doesn't taste good"
listening to our conversation
my grandson Daniel
He looks at us alternately and shakes his head
As Emily meets son Daniel
she asks
"Are you going to eat strawberries?"
Then eyes twinkle
Daniel says
"huh"
Then my daughter Emily told me
"Daddy, leave the strawberries here".
Nothing really ends alternately,
reversing the life story endlessly.
Dressing own life with a passionate dream,
comes the selfishness reincarnated as a being.
The dramatic flows comes to an end,
gap between them is so wide to paint.
remembering the story is so much to take,
forsaking the past as their story becomes a fake.
“Painting Dragons in One Stroke”
Beware of angels
with big guns
falling for you
they lose their wings
it’s like clipping nails
they grow back again
eventually
the sun shine comes out to play
the rain springs a well
in the heart good for dipping
sharp fountain pens bloodied
swords brush a new page
alternately pressing
strong and lightly
against the canvas of you
triumphantly sheer
silky as feathers
delectably drawn,
in perilous
Rapture Blue
delicately tasted
as in a ceremony
novelly naked
addressed and undressed
against the glass wall
your true vulnerability
embraced and seen through
ippitsuryu
painting dragons in one stroke
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Moonage Daydream"/ Bowie
https://youtu.be/RPUAldgS7Sg
Rumbling earth offers it's own baseline
Bones of the underworld crackle thunderously
Concussive forces driving Gaia's ecstasy.
The man watches as her eyes crackle menacingly
Mortal flirtations lusting for battle
Stone and Crystal, immense and fragile.
Booming, resonating, radiating, alive,
Conjured rumblings otherworldly
Each threaten alternately
To burst his chest
Or to implode it.
With each pulse, each soul-searing challenge of her gaze,
Every aching breath
Yet he remains, agonizingly still
And there is nought but to wait for her to move first.
It is a reaper's die cast in darkness
Uncalculated gamble of unwitting fortune
So he must wait.
Her almar might yet give a wary soul rest
Hiraeth, and hope.
Or unmercifully rend him hapless.
So lingers his being, languishing in exquisite agony
Hoping desperately, and rumbling as eldritch runes 'neath horrors unknown.
Tonight I will write
no profound verse,
nothing negatively terse –
alternately worse,
I will only, in my reconsidering mind
and multi-chambered, often corrosive heart,
rehearse my better, positive part; where
I should and could mostly dwell, hearkening to
heaven's angels, as opposed to earth's usual
demons of Waring hell....
of a world on the brink,
the poison man's ill temperament
is too quickly to buy and drink –
Tonight, I will not think, of man's moral stink,
but focus on sweeter scents, those of springtime's
charming, whirling nectars; and a bright moon without a tinge
of hazy blue – I will plant new garden memories
for the now season of fresh cultivation, rotating my
gifted seeds as a respectful steward, not wanting to deplete
the soul of a fertile land on loan – pausing to listen
to the awakening, champagne fizz of gentile showers,
the aeration of my crops~
uncorking, nose tickling
delightful pops....
I’d glide away into the cosmic flow
in quiet of the canopy of night
to leave the tumult of the world below
with wishes having wings to guide my flight.
In quiet of the canopy of night
the stellar orbs cast light in shining beams.
With wishes having wings to guide my flight
their faces seem a universe of dreams.
The stellar orbs cast light in shining beams
as days recede with final au revoirs.
Their faces seem a universe of dreams
in skies awash with myriads of stars.
As days recede with final au revoirs,
to leave the tumult of the world below
in skies awash with myriads of stars
I’d glide away into the cosmic flow.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is a pantoum… A pantoum is a poem in a fixed form, consisting of a varying number of four-line stanzas with lines rhyming alternately; the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated to form the first and third lines of the succeeding stanza, with the first and third lines of the first stanza forming the second and fourth of the last stanza, but in reverse order, so that the opening and closing lines of the poem are identical.
wrapped in summer's
aura of haze
an almost full moon
alternately
bursts forth and withdraws
withdraws and springs forth
plays 'peek-a-boo'
with this nyctophiliac
The cosmos calls us when our day is done
as gazes turn above to starry spheres,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
while once again the dark of night appears.
As gazes turn above to starry spheres
where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way
while once again the dark of night appears,
we muse on how what’s passing cannot stay.
Where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way,
the twinkling heavens glory in their prime.
We muse on how what’s passing cannot stay,
within a moment of illusive time.
The twinkling heavens glory in their prime,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
within a moment of illusive time—
the cosmos calls us when our day is done.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is a pantoum… A pantoum is a poem in a fixed form, consisting of a varying number of four-line stanzas with lines rhyming alternately; the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated to form the first and third lines of the succeeding stanza, with the first and third lines of the first stanza forming the second and fourth of the last stanza, but in reverse order, so that the opening and closing lines of the poem are identical.
The bright light, plentiful mirrors
seemed more numerous here.
Miriam wondered whether music lessons
were part of her remuneration.
She thought of people,
the very first time she had played a duet-
a little running melody.. her own
part, a page of minims.
She heard nothing but her hard
loud minims to the end.
Someone said she had a nice firm touch
The piano should always remember the blue remark-
the piano had been unrecognizable,
she had learnt her pieces by heart
..alternately the notes, almost soundlessly.
At musicale evenings,
as winter had sung afresh the effects
she could not discover
the secret of the notes.
Suzanne Delaney
Found Poem
from Pointed Roofs
by Dorothy Miller Richardson
Sub Categories
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