When a poem you write is like a toy car,
it’s all wound up (vroom vroom) to take the reader far.
If it’s much too short, give the poem gas.
More words are the fuel you’ll need to amass.
If it’s way too long, your poem might sputter.
Add it then to your other toy car clutter.
When your poem, like a car, runs smoothly – assume
it will take folks for a ride with a zipitty zoom zoom.
“Memories come forth to say...
we are with you to stay.”
__by Poet
This was the passageway she took
beneath the limbs of maple trees;
to this day still, I turn and look
and feel her joy to help and please.
I watched her walk across the grass;
this was the passageway she took.
With all the love she could amass
she'd come out from the shaded nook.
For from her home to mine partook
to visit for a while and stay.
This was the passageway she took;
still see her there as branches sway.
Yes, there she was, my mother dear;
I miss those visits- long-forsook.
Above, she keeps my vision clear;
this was the passageway she took.
It is a pitiful display
To belong where you don’t belong
Wanting to rule a former day
A worn out tune of a love song
No longer loved by the crowd
Down with the old King, so long!
The blizzard’s countenance proud
in the Kingdom of the Warm Front
Is quashed by the thundercloud
The waning moon takes affront
As sunbeams begin to amass
All victors leave the battlefront
Popular sentiments pass
Like a crying hourglass
The sightless amass daily at dawn; a pilgrimage
Arms outstretched clutching away; the sightless.
A winding trunk grazing away to appease the pangs of hunger; the calloused skin of a leg, a cauliflower shaped ear, a skinny tail swaying restlessly
We know not what this is they echo in chorus; mouths voicelessly ajar at the gigantism
Bellows emit endlessly; stomping, churning,
A woolly mammoth perhaps…..Ice age
Clouds of perplexity choking the cerebrum….. the sightless concur….it must be a powerful apparition, a deity
Could it be that mythical monster; Loch Ness it ain’t, NHS perhaps
A Druid dance up the hillside may help us nail the answer
Ah…..we see it now….the answer flying in the wind…
Not as you like it, but “ASDA”…a medieval bazaar!
Into the Light
When we seek to find the brightest of stars in the sky
Delving so deep within our galaxy so vast and so high
In the darkness of night, objects can seem so bright
We are mesmerized by the beauty gazing into the light
When daylight comes to an end and twilight is nigh
Your eyes becomes accustomed to changes that apply
When the smallest of creatures come to life at night
They seemingly amass attracted by and into the light
When you feel so lost within a darkness oh so deep
As if you were caught in a realm of immersed sleep
Where reality and fantasy embroiled in some fight
You desperately reach out and look into the light
When our time is at nigh, our wings gifted from above
And we succumb and accept it all and feel all the love
When we are surrounded by all that is holy and bright
Is when we are told to embrace and walk into the light
As human beings, we are born with souls;
and undisclosed to us, within them lie
the mystery of God's magnetic poles
which draw us to Him till the day we die.
We feel this pull and know there's something more
to life than just surviving till we pass.
It's built within our psyche to explore
these spiritual passions we amass.
Since time began, God's presence filled the heart;
though spaced by miles apart, we humans knew
without communication- we were part
of His divine salvation to pursue.
This pull to worship God takes many forms-
as shown for centuries through cultured norms.
As I was headed home, a squirrel
Passed me going south.
I noticed him because he had
An acorn in his mouth.
Since winter’s not approaching,
I am curious to know
If squirrels still amass a stash
For when supplies run low.
Or was that nut for dinner
From his daily market run?
Or a late addition to a meal
His family’d just begun?
I have no way to ascertain
What’s stored within his nest
So, like many other mysteries,
I’ll give this one a rest.
Poster one's good health
Such love master self-control
Will amass great wealth.
The clock ticks, and Time slips by,
Amass less! Let’s all give it a try,
Eyes closed, thoughts flow, of memories recalled
from pictures on the wall,
Back to the time of a rising to a call:
A plea to help the oppressed regain their smile.
With so many faces from so many races,
All from different places.
Music playing, bodies swaying.
Hands clapping, feet tapping.
Young and old, united by their plight
Together, fighting the same fight.
The voice wanted to shout out loud and clear for all to hear.
Come! Come! Take a look and see what a difference giving a little can make for those in dire need.
Ah, but how many would care?
And how many would take heed?
A broken door creaks.
A young child takes a peek,
stumbles and starts to weep.
An Elder speaks,
“Alas, still weak, but life now isn’t so bleak”.
Simple but painfully touching words the ears couldn’t bear to hear.
The heart, heavy with sadness, trembled, then sank in despair.
It couldn’t help but wonder how many would dare to part with a little from their share.
by Zyrool
Journey Journal Page
SELF-AWARENESS
By Leon Enriquez
Awake
Meet mystic fate
Here at the gate
Early not late
For goodness sake
Aware
Greet magic state
Stern poise that plates
Your happy date
Of happy fare
~~~~~~~~~
Align
Your peace of mind
As soul now binds
Your heart’s own find
In fond design
Appeal
To greet goodwill
The way you feel
For words can heal
What thought reveals
~~~~~~~~~
Amass
Blessings of grace
Light on your face
In sweet embrace
In touch of class
Arouse
A feisty fest
Surge of fond zest
Feel wit urge jest
Play your full house
~~~~~~~~~
Abide
A certain feel
Strings words that heal
Know true goodwill
Love needs no pride
Await
That lovely tryst
To groom a kiss
In sexy bliss
Prompt lavish state
~~~~~~~~~
Appease
Feel touch most kind
Forge peace of mind
As beauty binds
Joy in warm lease
Agile
Know then the way
To live this day
Ground fun and play
Frame touch worthwhile
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2023
Singapore
Beneath the sky, a mirror serene, the lake,
Rippling reflections, a dance for beauty's sake.
In dawn's embrace, the lake awakes,
A masterpiece, where serenity takes.
Sunset hues in a palette ablaze,
Painting the waters in a fiery phase.
Moonlight shimmers on the liquid glass,
A celestial dance, moments amass.
Who observes the lake, untouched, unfazed,
not pained by loss, not by gain dazed?
Who notes its wisdom, law-abiding,
amidst the fish, birds, silently gliding?
Who names its generosity, wide and free,
among creatures that share its boundary?
Who knows if the leaning tree, with grace,
sees its own reflection in the water's embrace?
Who notices its love, deep and serene,
bonding with earth, a tranquil scene?
It flows when needed, a love so true,
as the lake does, in shades of blue.
Who asks where the lake came to be,
wondering at its ageless mystery?
Who ponders if the lake knows its form,
or if water, as lake, takes a norm?
Who doesn't seek it for stillness and peace,
for its silence that brings heart's release?
Like the lake, understanding needs profound,
mind's tranquility, heart's nourishment found.
“False pride...true greed...
corrupt...agreed”
_by Poet
Fate is a fickle force that blinds
and often messes with our minds,
to pull the rug from under us;
comes out of nowhere without fuss.
Fate alters things we'd never guess;
but this one change, I must confess
removes joy in poetic art;
usurps true talents we impart.
Fate has directed us to cheat;
AI – invented, to now meet,
the inborn talents we all share;
write poems fast- no work or care.
It uses forms correctly, while
can duplicate a poet's style.
But, using what A1 has learned-
sets a false “pride” for prize unearned.
God-given gifts to write, compose-
now must compete with AI prose.
Yet, “greed” may use this selfish pass
to earn high ratings that amass.
Will AI steer my urge to cheat?
Give me that edge to fast-compete?
No! Honestly, I won't do well-
knowing my mind's a tarnished shell.
will end when and where
have been many lives to spare
be kind and take care
many overwrought
by hamas they had been shot
so much sin was sought
lying and beguile
blew up buildings mile by mile
killed a little child
list of sins surpass
many body bags amass
where will it all end
will read this weekend
solve problems do intend
many minds must mend
Written: September 13, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Through cloudless weeps, my pen glides.
Trace severe, dense whispers of afire minds.
Under the brisk beams of the Autumn sun.
Anguish is my tapestry, where sobs flow a ton.
Upon a cheek where tears have already stained,
I paint a portrait of sorrow, in shades of disdain.
The sallow skin, marked by the weight of despair,
Reflects the anguish of a soul left threadbare.
Through cloudless tears, my pen bear flight.
To bewilder the core of souls, ailed and contrite.
I investigate experiencing anguish and strife.
Bestow light to the stories of a broken life.
Weeping clouds amass, ready to wash away
The burning tears, the wounds that never sway.
Their sacred endeavor, to cleanse and heal,
To suggest solace and an opportunity to feel.
Through cloudless tears, my pen flies around.
The intention of referring to the night wound.
So that the oppressed and laconic can speak,
That society's covert truths be made public.
Yearning to shave time,
amass his fortunes,
he set his sights on
uncharted waters
and built a castle
in the sand instead.
—————
for the Tableau Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joseph May
written 08/19/23
using Image #1
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