Apropos Poems - Poems about Apropos

After a tired labor of love day got on the Trane and after a few Miles I reached Monk later laying back travelling towards Sarah and Nina and after getting Dizzy headed West boarded Bird flying onto Art leaving me to ink this poetic flow I’m sharing with you before my melatonin MJQ disembark to peacefully Cannonball deeply into poetic gigging… ...

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Apropos of John H. Doe A name we all know Just like Uncle Sam ~ He too’s on the lam ...

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Be as the sun, And doubt not the Son of God; Your guiding compass:- Divine guidance is your gift; Praise God for each day’s dawning:- After sleep, you wake, There’s sunset and sunrise; You’re guided between: Always believe in yourself; Always be in God’s guidance:- Journey faithfully, You are destined for success; God is your compass: When lost, sign in your compass And be guided on your way:- ...

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We’re moving onward, Me 83; She 80; Seeking year 40:- Praise God for time together; Nourishing one another:- In our love’s oneness, We have lived in its onement; Bound wonderfully:- Glory for togetherness, Living our God’s unity:- Though life is waning, To God, we’re not complaining; Our love still waxing:- Ready for who may go first, Going together, we thirst:- Happy as can be, My beautiful Queen and me; Living supremely:- Praise God...

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Freedom must be won Oppression beaten and done; Let’s follow Heron: Let’s make revolution live; Defeating oppression’s jive:- Come revolution, Heal syndrome’s devolution; Curing delusion: It’s time for revolution; Let’s get to liberation:- We’ve survived much worse Of the oppressor’s dam curse; Now’s too, we will burst: Liberation’s spring is here; We’ll be fighting without fear:- Now, its you folk’s call, To deal with that choice by y’all; Least all your hopes...

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Peace...no, bombs exploding; it's war! The wars fought to get peace, did not:- Pooped bombs swell graves' bellies; death farts:- The kids feed wars each day; death pleased:- In wars, only death wins; peace can't:- Love peace, wars are evil; crave life:- ...

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In the composing of every liberated poet of poetic justice, every pen is a freestyle composition irrespective of structural rendering of the divine birth-wording that has been given from the supreme conductor’s wand’s instructions as to where to be and go in the rhythmic flow of the frothing waves of awareness shared in the imaging canvas of eyes and ears to behold that of the essence of freed minds whose souls are as deep empty wells waiting to be filled with...

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APROPOS OF POETIC SOUPING… Sitting here On the riverbank Of the riverbed Of poetic creation May the flow Of my words Stream joy To the thirsty eyes Drinking them Hydrating weary souls And may these leaking Allegorical words Drip into the saucers Of minds To be sipped With deciphered awareness In becoming liberating beings Oh may God of creation Fill my poetic cistern with With words of divine wisdom And guidance To be poured...

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I'm a dark-hued poetic mind Writing mine: Inking navel keloid words Water-broken From pregnant ...

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A…2-4-2…Sextet Peace…No! Loud bombs explode— It’s war! Children Feed war each day; Death smiles:- Pooped bombs, Swell graves’ bellies; Death farts:- In war, Only death wins; Peace can’t:- Love peace, War is evil— Crave life:- The war— Fought to get peace; Lost it:- ...

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À propos preponderant passion penning poems... posited puzzling apt aperçu... While pondering particular theme to address amidst tangled wide, whirled webbed mental skein today November third two thousand twenty two, unexpected Möbius strip tease conundrum unforeseen, yet as avid aspiring wordsmith only now I became keen, which unflagging vexillological, theoretical, rhetorical, philosophical... narratological, linguistical, judgmatical historical, fantastical, didactical, and bibliographical predicament may not suddenly find me flush with...

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AN ALLEGORICAL COCOON LESSON (APROPOS OF POLLING) In preparation, ants are moulding And stacking their mounds; in hives, Bees reflect collective oneness In the sweetness of their unity; And in high distant places, black Widows meticulously spin their webs, While honing hornets harden their nests:- Cocooned in political and economic darkness, Let us not be dismayed, apathetic sojourners; Remember, while caterpillars are entombed To...

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OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM (Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace) Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:- Considering last night’s revelation dreaming, Waking up into this day the Lord has made, I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical. Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred, Indeed, it has not been...

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Today my flowing pen Streams screaming words Cascading to hungry eyes And thirsty ears of waves Of the oceans of minds Waiting to be sailed upon In the winds of whatever The day has decided to blow Into sleeping sails awaiting To be blown into awakening Awareness breezing their way Over wrinkling waters Tearing to froth upon healing Shores to be absorbed by Dry sands of hope seeking Long awaited...

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What happens when rotten strange fruit… Hanging from trees of auction block wood Become stinking pieces of black flesh… Dried blood putrefying in murderous streets…? When crystallized tears of remorse…Laden and Loaded with explosive grief…Flow down weary Faces wrinkled by time’s trials, tribulations and Treacherousness and neglect of freedom, justice And equality, all become like inconsequential Sunned raisins and festering sores…? When visions of deferred...

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