The growing crops harvest not by crofter
Having to wait a time to ripe them
Any birth by woman giving to a child
Not until comes of the due time
So on what any poem-writing rely
Effort-making and /or repeatedly act?
Argh! as crystallike gems of poetry
Only acquire them formed naturally by
So, as a poet, if taken as a career
Or a person's status to be identified
No poetry exquisite can be crafted
As long as conditions opposite fact
Of farmer versus crops, by endless effort
Of women giving birth, till fetus mature
argh
the wooden pirate
with a real leg
‘pon his left shoulder
not a parrot but a peg
argh
his ship inverted
sailed ‘neath the wave
and in his treasure chest
was a craggy cave
argh
he roared with rum
empty barrels were full
his flag was white
black bones and skull
argh
the flag though ripped
caught on his hook
but not for a hand
‘twas ‘stead of a foot
argh
he roamed the undersea
looking for loot
but oh all the bubbles
from a whale in a boot
argh
the old salt
was seawardly feared
for everyone knew
and heard of Woodbeard
argh
the submariner pirate
of raid and of plunder
sprang up on those
and pulled them all under
If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry,
is astrology a tragedy or a comedy?
Are there clusters of uppercase in outer space,
the remnants of metaphors that broke up like meteors?
My universe is full of orphaned verse,
and perverse alien names all have hyphens.
Quatrains swirl across the ecliptic plane,
and sonnets streak by like comets.
Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone.
Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil?
It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you.
Black holes are swallowing Haiku too.
.
.
Songs for this:
Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac
Theme for a Nude Beach by The B-52's
.
.
I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know.
.
.
*No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name
This contest style’s description is one I’ve never heard
I’m unfamiliar with that particular word
An internet search comes up empty
However, others seem to have poems aplenty
My eyes are getting blurry a total collapse seems imminent
Quickly penning an entry appears to be the only way out of my predicament
My freshly emerged imposter’s syndrome is now on full display
As I throw words together to prayerfully send a piece on its way
Whoops, I don’t believe the lines above were exact rhymes
I wonder if I will get disqualified this time
I see it is quintessential to utilize the word “quintessential”
Unfortunately, that stretches me to also use a word like “nonextensile”
Argh! I just realized I’m not counting my meter
I promise I’m not purposefully being a cheater
Oh well, competitions are all in good fun,
even if they drive you a bit crazy
You just have to be creative, put in the work,
and not . . . something, something lazy
Closed off heart
when you came around.
Persistent you were
with your primitive tongue.
Sweet lies lined your foreign lips—
Surprise. The soul wanted in and considered this.
Red flags—waved in the wind.
So many, but who was counting.
Those who live long say ‘Life is Short’.
I say—
Adventure is a reward to the seeker who sought.
No need to fear feelings
when you can roll with the flow and explore.
A matched union?
Perhaps yes, perhaps no.
A scented candle burned
to its wick’s end.
Jasmine scent seeped from its heat
in a puddle of melted wax.
Hot, hot, hot—too hot,
Sizzling. Heat erupting from within.
Too hot, too hot. Argh! Argh!
Only your touch could turn off the heat;
but the reality is ‘You’re no good for me’.
Silence
I'm dying in silence
So wretched in pain
Looking for jubilation
But where do I begin?
When silence has subjugated me
Who do I turn to?
When most seem to be targets of depression
I'm hungry for uncoditional support
Trying to skedaddle from silent pain
Seeking for someone to hear me out
But they all tend to be victims of dying in silence
Huh! Silence....
Silence is just silence
A toxic chemical which cause depression
Without being swallowed
Can I skedaddle it?
Argh! Wait, I'm looking for jubilation
But where do I begin?
When silence seem to be one of my dread
I can't even swallow bread
For silence has taken over
Bit by bit
Little by little
I'm dying inside
Dying in the midst of combat with silence
So wretched in pain
Wish to heavily exhult in happiness
?Rirhandzu Manzini
# The Black Poet With Light Visions
I used to move as fast as cars
runways built in space and mars.
I would dart as far as I could trace
the words moving off the chart
Every other sound that rhymes
Feels like argh, I paint a corner squiggle
argh, I’m bankrupt, gridlocked power struggle
argh no way out of a jigsaw puzzle
Stopped and bound, inside my head
as round as this machine could bleed
My life into moving tree -
BANG! Bark and Fire Stark!
I awake inside a maze
Forest lost to the barren dark
Mixing things that didn’t mix
Stories I couldn't fix,
I felt a apart
I couldn’t even paint an argh
no where left but something leapt
Silent meaning had effect
Movement kept me on a stretch
where rhymes were just erect -
waving signs above my head,
hard and fixed, solid bricks
I really wanted sounds and tricks,
clever tips and catchy bits
songs that keep me in a fix
Kungfu, water, flowing bliss
Then words fell off the page again
I was back it didn’t matter
rhymes could be like fish batter
but narrative was fatter!
virtual school moments (in Senryus)
I forget that I'm
virtual school, because I'm
really in my room.
And start brushing my
hair or singing a song I'm secretly
listening to - until friends text me!
My mom forgets I'm
in v.school, comes in, to yell
at me about dishes.
My cat walks across
my keyboard submitting "*84;'/jifgvbzws*"
as a test answer.
"It was a typo!," I complain,
“You still got an "A"," she says.
"But I LOST 4 points!!" Argh!
"Get a life!," she says.
Argh!
Damn phone alarm.
I gulp haste.
I open my school app - like an eyelid.
Invade my sanctuary, virtual tyranny.
Where's my focus?!
*looking around for my coffee cup*
I feel like a bobble-head.
They say they run in packs
with the mighty unicorn.
The stories bridge the boundary
between faith and Internet p0rn.
Oh, the elusive boyfriend.
I thought I’d hidden one in the closet,
but I rummaged top to bottom
then remembered - argh! -
I lost him last August!
I’m overthinking,
tired of the endless waiting,
about to blow up.
Even my mom sees it.
She starts some cutting remark
only to pull it back.
Me: "Argh! I have this anger, just below the surface."
My brother: "Uhh, it's not that far below the surface."
Some old movie plots
can't happen now, with changes
in technology...
You know, in a movie
when someone texts everyone
at school by* mistake*?
Who has *EVERYONE*
at school on their contacts list?
No way that happens.
Parent-less parties
where scores show up - with modern
*surveillance systems*?
or ditching class, heck
my parents are texted my
quiz scores real-time.
"why'd you get an 88
on that Calculus test, I
thought you studied?" Argh!
Theoretical physicists say that there’s really no such thing as “time.” That our perception of time is just how our minds work but that, in reality, everything is happening at once.
Somewhere, Harry James’ trumpet is crying out to lovers. Do you hear it?
Romeo is about to take stage for the first time - Kennedy is climbing into the convertible - and I’m about to meet my true love - will I know, did I know? Argh!
Time passes by or stays, unseen. Contrails forever linger, flowers never die and kisses don’t end.
This school day certainly feels like it’s lasting forever.
Senryus about those
capricious creatures that rule
over our lives - our moms.
Studying. My phone
beeps, I look at it - mom says,
- "you've been texting!" Argh!
Mom: "Why is it - that
everything is on the floor?"
Me: *thinking*... "gravity?"
"SORRY!, how could I
know answering your question
would be talking back??"
My mom can hear me
mumble a mile away but
can't hear me yell "what"?
Some guys sprinkle when they have a tinkle
and spurt wee wee all over the floor
Then they leave the lavatory seat up
these two actions I simply abhor!
The ladies sit down on the toilet
when they are in need of the loo
But they always take ages to finish
it’s no wonder there's often a queue!
But my biggest bug bear when I'm sitting
is that there is no darn toilet roll
I have to fumble about for a tissue
so I can wipe my dirty butt hole!
LAST VERSE INSPIRED BY GOING TO A VENUE WHICH HAD WALL MOUNTED DISPENSERS ... FOUR OF THEM IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO GET THE PAPER OUT OF .... ARGH, THANKFULLY I ALWAYS CARRY TISSUE IN MY BAG
08/14/20
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