Aping Poems | Examples

TO BEING IN MIND-BLOWING AWARENESS

TO BEING IN MIND-BLOWING AWARENESS

Rocking and rolling,
Aping hedges in the winds:
Blowing, yet rooted:
Though moving, there’s no progress;
Such mind-blowing awareness:-

Such mockery!
Moving, but going nowhere:
Mind and body stunned:-
In aiding progress, one must
Always seek divine guidance:-

Moving is one thing,
Progressing is another;
With a focused mind, 
Seek our God’s navigation:
Progressing in assurance:-

Godlike

With all the Gods who've been and gone
religiously believed in and prayed upon
for sure Thor was but one
but who'll be the next to come along
will we sing praises to him it or her
faithfully erect an edifice to edify
incense burn sacrifice virgins
bow down on our knees to deify
will fire and brimstone or flagellation
appear in the equation
with the promise of heaven
and/or eternal damnation
and aping man's superstition
followers will still flounder around
looking for what they know not
along with the herd awaiting 'The Word'

MOCKED BIRDS

MOCKED BIRDS

Aping nature's birds,
Silent drones soaring nightly;
Scary wings blinking:-

FALL'S FALLINGS

Tears falling like rain,
Face aping nature's playground;
Fall's pollen is here:-

Let Go of To Get To

 as we float and gloat in destiny’s moat
fears and desires as we quote and unquote
in trance altering not our piquant circumstance 
although plunging into the void is our only chance 
being not a rebel, a nerd, we follow the herd
blindly aping scriptures word for word
we remain lost in labyrinths of lower mind
trauma bonding therein fear grips us in a bind 
finding our life adrift, if we choose we can yet shift
to reclaim within heart, love and light as a gift
enlivening feeble form with currents warm
in time becoming the very bliss storm

Halloween Politics: a Haiku Trilogy

HALLOWEEN POLITICS: A HAIKU TRILOGY 

Halloween…coming…
Aping today’s politics:
No treats…just more tricks:- 
		
Offering false treats,
Evil candidates ape ghosts;
Tricking scared voters:-

Halloween precedes
Coming midterm elections;
Voting tricks abound:-

Watch Out, Bullies

If I and my poems were dissed
by those deemed elite--just dismissed,
I’d be so mature.
Their barbs I’d endure—
unless I should get REALLY p_ _ _ _ _! 

My sarcastic quips might be flying,
fake moxie to keep me from crying!
I’d not stand there gaping.   
“I’ll never be aping      
your style”—my words might leave them sighing.              

         *****************

If some ladder-climbing go-getter,
an ambitious, thriving big cheddar* 
should call me a slacker,
I’d surely not smack ‘er;
I’d say, “I’ve been called worse by better!” 


“Big cheese” (important, powerful person) didn’t fit here!


November 4, 2020
Poetry Contest Title: Judged by a Jury of Your Peers     Placed 6th
Sponsor: Mark Koplin

Nullity

I shall not envy the upstart's polished gait, 
Or wish myself as old knights in diamonds
Hued to bamboozle familiar souls and eye, 
Flattered by aping pals and ersatz blondes. 

For swanky gait soon in quiet slumbers lies
In darkest gloom beyond men's urging eyes; 
Where kowtowing lip trills no ego-oiling tune
To laud vain legs that all wise sense impugn.

Since old knights and their fabled crystals fall
Into gloomy abysms past all plagiarized cheer, 
And their wide glows sheer shifting dreams be; 
Which deft poet thereon docks his sailing soul? 

As for manipulable eyes and souls of fan-stars, 
And idol blondes cued to flatter clumsy knights; 
Are not both simple wit and truth strictly averse
To all such visionless ego-trip and short-sights? 

Give upstart parvenus and 'knights' whole pomp, 
I'll claim the simple logic they so mulishly tromp!

Alliterative Assertion

Although amateurs are annoyingly apt at aping another’s avocation, 
All artists accord another’s art acceptance, 
As any artwork asks appreciation, 
And after all, all artists are allusive, anyhow.


October 21, 2019
Reformatted October 30, 2019

Scarlet One

Smart savior see, listen my genuine words
Happy heart come, come check beyond
Every sweet word me, every pillar towards
Establishing a good home, too firm a bond

Kind from now we, East West or Northwards
Someone somewhere saw, a black ark right
Moving down your forehead, the best nature pencil
Over the seasons and so, who will reiterwrite?

Prior or it tore, in memories with night
Lovely black ropes underlying, around above your ears
Under towards and more, on your shoulders rest slight
Soon having said that, now I come down

Mimicking your cat walk, aping a shake in smile
On the floor on our mat, as you twine betraying frown
Sitting to smile you talk, in my ear your words pile
Every aromatic breath alert, what you serve my crown

On my knees I worst, for your say I wait
I suppose to do not, even before you queen
Smart Scarlet a must, please knock my bait
Head in this your pot, heat my boil on keen

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Boys in their fathers’ moulds grow
Recycling habits and tidbits seen
Enacted as fathers punches at mothers throw
As fathers’ tantrums grow mean. 

Boys in domestic settings grow well mannered
Aping fathers who set mellow manners’ templates
Boys replicate to avoid growing ill-mannered
When in future homes meals wives serve on peace plates.

Boys imbibe fathers’ Bible of Attitudes
Embracing silence and balance
Gleaned from meek fathers’ habitudes
That shy away from insolence insistence.

Boys braggart they become
If home templates preach arrogance
Whereas stable husbands in a future home
Grow from cultures promoting peace with a wife’s dance.

All Roads

All roads lead to Rome
 
My neighbour’s garden wall is made of stones from the disused Roman road that had stopped going anywhere for ages; smooth stones walked over by mules and sandaled feet. 
No one here used to bother about some old road, now the heritage people 
want their stones back, as do the tourist board, 
who’s trying too hard attract quality vacationers, away from the coast; 
there is more to Portugal than it being Spain’s little sister, aping her big brother. 
When the stones have been put back, a story can be spun 
about a road that never actually went to Rome, but to a quarry behind the hill, 
a hole filled with thorny bushes, snakes and femurs of my neighbour’s ancestors,
 worked to death as slaves by men with Romanesque noses.

Bilang Makata

Ang nakapagpapa-ibig ba kay Medosa,
Nakapang-aakit ni Benus na kay ganda,
O ang nakapagpapabuti sa masama
Ay yaong tutumbas sa isang makata?

Magpaliwanag ka mapang-aping mundo!
Iwika mo ngayon ang palagay mo
Pagkat ,liban sa Diyos, ang kahit na sino
Makata, walang tatarok sa buhay mo!

Alentejo

Alentejo 

 Imagine, this landscape that stretches out 
With even sized knolls like a sea that suddenly dried
Leaving behind its contours 
It is a pleasant landscape with grazing animals often
Looking languished under the sky 
That in winters clouds form like asperitas aping 
The non-existent seas` moving illusion 
Summer in Alentejo is mostly a vast blue sky with
Tiny white clouds hurry across before they are
Blitzed by the fierce sun.
But most of the time it a place that dos not 
Pretend greatness, its ease gives it dignity

The Piano

There, resting in stoic frame, it
reflected its sheen surface; glowing 
like a stilled black water river—The stage
mocking banks at high tide.

Ebony rowed keloids rose in-between
marshmallow like parallels—Aping
a skewed checkerboard smile
frozen in time: a 9 to 13 tuned ratio.

Marooned in this tuned ratio,
all held rhythmic visions 
that veiled eyes could not see;
all held tuned sounds 
that clogged ears could not hear.

88 heartbeats per time—Waiting.
There in stilled silence, lived an eternity
of unity—abiding  in melodic bliss:  a quiet
concerto of beauty—awaiting its released.

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