--Mortality's Dance--
I murmured that cyanide could joust the Jester’s incessant need for the prolonging.
His tortured soul could bite the bullet and find inner peace from the marauder’s sanctum. Describing a comfort to the unseen sorrows and madness.
Accepting them for characteristics of an insane to be.
Admittedly, the Jester had already been claimed by the ground beneath his very shoes alike the many before him.
Although, he sought for it.
Called for silence in the eyes of a mad man.
The ground seemed familiar with the clown assort in the shadows.
Before long, the shadows became so loud with silence...And the grace, of something that may or may not be there.
Kelogb 10 (6-7-6)
For Emmanuel Adédayò Òjéládé.
When for all the long lines,
Eyes don't catch up the design
Of all I had combined
And in little shy glance,
The eyes travel in spry trance;
For few minds read perchance,
To get the all heart sort.
In minutes, glance would abort--
Flying off lines assort...
Denied expectant fuel,
Which could turn out rare jewel,
That can make pen go cruel...
Hiring you manager:
Who jaunts words a voyager,
To turn astrologer.
Here is the chance per luck,
That gets mere glance chucked,
Which Kelogb speaks and muck.
Thank you real good, dear bard.
For the honor with regard,
That grace to play my card.
With deep touch of mind blows;
In simple and awesome flows,
Perking what make muse glows.
Young and old have acquired,
What sets many minds on fire--
Operating heart's desire...
Till takes shall turn mantra--
Early morning aurora,
Becomes the great Torah.
BITS AND PIECES
Bits and pieces they say makes the whole
A whole of what I can't help but ask
Bits and pieces of pain - despondence
Bits and pieces of lies - distrust
Bits and pieces of self - egocentricity
Whatever be your chosen assort.
So,
The bits and pieces you chose to gather
In mind do bear the responsibility of
that the bits and pieces you then do sow
To lend from the French "des choses"
Are the sort of dribs and drabs ......
You should feel no fear to harvest.
*Image of Excitement Unlocked giphy by Escape Hunt.
Time
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
through essential time, balms the albatross
over seasonable means, paid in court.
A past fraught in qualm, trading ourselves short,
wills the clock face, hands smile--it sates the loss...
life millstones pressures creation to sort,
from the moment that stretches to distort,
spoke present to a fresh reference, toss
over seasonable means, paid in court.
Seconds, minutes, hours ticking by, assort
cleft role of abled spread twinklings as moss.
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
that infinite future's schedule, escort
zealous flashes duly, that run across
over seasonable means, paid in court.
Shapes an hourglass, together, we support
an eternal measured us, reach across.
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
over seasonable means, paid in court.
2020 June 30
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand you choose
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 12
*1st Place*
Time- 8 Word Challenge
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 July 06
OH! boys ...
oh girls ...!
Why don't we preserve our friendship forever!
Why don't we retain
the purity of our
Children's hearts ..?
Why do we must lose
our innocences?
Before we were childish
and so friends ...!
Remember when
we were flowers in
birthplace ...! !
We were so close
of the creative spirit ...!
We were in the labs,
so close to the superior!
Why the abyssal distances
human values that
did they disfigure ...?
Oh girls!
oh boys,
why are we so alone ...?
Why do we assort
the friendship that there was
in us ...!?
Spring begins to grumble
That winter won't crumble
Seasons seem in jumble
Snow still falling
The breeze will soon escort
And spring it will exhort
As blooms she will assort
No more bawling
Then lilacs will assent
As fragrance they present
And nature will consent
No more stalling
And birds will sing until
Their sweet songs they instill
As spring's joy they fulfill
Blossoms sprawling
Bright colors she'll bestow
In sunshine all aglow
And reach a new plateau
Summer's calling
~~
3-23-18
Violette Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mick Talbot
''You should try to love yourself more.''
Those words reverberate inside of me
As I rearange my thoughts and assort them
But spend much time
Discarding the pile
That doesn't belong to any category.
It's an excess
And wants to force its way in.
It likes a mess
When everything is out of order.
But what is it that is likely to pervert
The seemingly spotless mind?
Only that which possesses the potential
Can be deformed.
Illusion is the word.
Or rather, hallucination.
When it's allowed to settle in
As an equal category
It is perceived to be meaningful,
To be reality.
''You should try to love yourself more.
In my case, I've at least managed to understand myself.''
Is it really that simple?
I guess, in the end...
After a prolonged deconstruction...
Everything reduces to that –
Simply understanding yourself.
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