Begetting Poems

A CAPITALISTIC PERSPECTIVE ON WAR: A TANKA QUINTET FLOW

Bombs begetting bombs, 
War mongers are safe and sound;
Others being bombed:
The bombing of others reaps
Bloody power over them

No matter who dies,
Nuclear war bombing pays off;
Bombs begetting bombs:
Millions spent creating bombs;
Trillions reaped from their bombings:-

War is a business,
Nuclear bombs produced and sold;
Low cost drones offered:-
War is for power;
So is capitalism:-

Just do the homework:
Democracy is one thing;
Power control, another:-
Watch the news on war today:
It’s about finance; not life:-

Why not target peace?!:
What peace reaps is beyond cost,
And invaluable:-
We all share in peace’s reaping;
Not just the power mongers:-

Begetting

Daylight bleeds its seeds.
A nightly womb
is again inseminated.

The day was hurried
it pulled out too early.
Dawn is a dead lamb
in the snow.

Tomorrow we will seek
new ways
into those legends

wherein,
Gods birth humans.

Let My Soul Sing

“Explore the length and breadth of the universe, drink deep from the fountain 
of beauty and bliss and sing soulful songs of praise for its creator”
                                                                             ~ By Poet

Let my soul sing of the joys of Heaven and the earth!

Angels with alabaster wings and stars that align in constellations,
Clouds that vagrantly roam and moon that plays hide and seek,
Oceans that swirl and waves that roll, beating on sandy shores,
Mountains and trees that brush against, touching heaven’s seams,

Seasons that come and go, leaving their mark on nature's brow,
With a cocktail of colors, begetting joy and delight in every heart,
Spring Daffodils that smile and sway, summer beams that kiss the cheeks,
Autumn leaves in amber and gold and winter snowflakes in lacy flight,

All these scintillating scenes proclaim aloud that Heaven isn’t all that far, 
And our Master Craftsman exhorts all- ‘Open your eyes wide and behold’!

Magnum Opus - incomplete

Cantankerous cancers found my blood letting from the slit, 
Is it avarice of me to desire the love begetting of Lazarus?
Enjoying life cadaverous like forgetting the want to live, 
Is it glamorous for me to die while God desires I live? 

Forgo the solid ground, 
My feet dangled off the edge of a jagged cliff. 
I fought the howl of squalid sin, 
I caught the wind sending back the fire of my padded spliff. 
Below I spotted a town, 
My feet angled to squish what I saw down to the earth’s crusty skin. 
Got calls asking where I’ve been.
Like,
“Just, 
Just been wondering.” 
Yeah yeah. 
Yeah, 
I guess you’ve just been wondering? 

Could’ve made it better before I made it end, 
Would’ve, 
Should’ve, 
But I wouldn’t have liked to make amends. 
A couple foot of rope set up to further suspend, 
Just to be an easy way out for whoever he is?
I misunderstood a friend on what is perpetuity, 
I just want to live forever, 
Instead I pretend to breathe on incongruity. 
And as I descend upon,
I felt alive again when I grew dizzy.

I felt alive, 
In my life, 
I felt alive as I grew dizzy.

Her head was on my shoulder

I remembered when you came for my birthday. 
It was years ago.
Ten to be exact.

You would not go home and stood long
You almost slept in my bed since it was late
Oh how it could have been a date

Eight years prior I had dreamed that we would be in each others fate
Well, with me that night you did not stay
Your heart would belong to a different metaphoric beau

You placed your head on my shoulder
For me it was a betrayal that could not be any bolder
I could not make you love me

Now your’re back after a run with a person that is no longer here
Did he ever exist?
Was he a manifestation that you created for yourself to mirror?
Your mirror is a fanstasy.
As your clock ticks, understand that you are not worthy of my seed

With your words and actions, I see your garden only begetting weeds
The weeds are your lies 
I don’t love you
You are the past

A Distress Dish Of Blue Cheese And An Old Dill

Blue Cheese and Old Pickles Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish

A dish of disappointment
mocks the kitchen chef
two anomalies sitting on his cutting board
all in their glory, dumbfounded
... and unappetizing 
plated for aliens and not humans
or for a horse that doesn’t know better
this recipe’s giving him the blues and he’s seeing red
where …
his yellow brick road has two strangers today
two lost food groups 
arriving earlier in hearses
a funeral procession
mythically carrying the deceased to his kitchen foyer
… some blue cheese and an old dill
that  are down for an undressing 
of his bitter words
like, fudge, where’s the beef
… or better yet Mars is up there
as a cloud of despair hovers over the kitchen 
not a spaceship as one might think
darkness begetting light
salt, pepper and garnishes spooked
… a ready barf bag crashes this meal

Falling Away

A rusted breeze ripens with early frosts
Ill-fated trees wilt begetting their loss
Rich fermented decay's putrified bloom
Bidding farewell to the song of the loon

The belching pond spurts summers spoil
Bird nests crumble leaving traces of toil
Flowers tilling soil with seeds for new growth
All of life is taking a dying oath

The spreading fire of the evening sun
Blazes in drenched horizons faraway
As days get shorter, and stars have more fun
Popping on flashlights in the milky way

Autumn-extraneous-harmonious 
Ceremonious-Testimonios

In bondage to form

Wherefrom arises desire begetting thought,
more so in moments when we think we are still,
imagining ego is reduced to naught
and that we have surrendered to God our will?
It seems clear bondage to form invokes desire
in heart, manifesting as a fearsome fire,
quelled easily enough though if we so choose
without excuse, to make love and light our muse.

Opposing Poetry

6 lines from Firefly Memories (Terza Rima)

As the night rolled into a darkness rich
With glimmering fireflies, vibrant, quiet
And happy, charming, able to bewitch

I caught them in Mason jars that riot
Lights going on and off, soft, so soothing
Breathing graceful whispers that sigh “try it”



6 new lines (opposing the old poem)

Despite the morning, crisp and ever fresh
Pouring out her dawn past the mountain’s crests,
Begetting goosebumps on our naked flesh

Kissed by colors, beauty that time protests,
Reflecting dew, trembling on butterflies,
Lasting songs, rich as the morning suggests.

Artefacts

ARTEFACTS
recreated
as
a colossus
in  time
 using
dimensional depiction
 extended
 into reality
a glimpse
of the past
with
the possibility
of  consolations
begetting beauty

melancholy
steeped in
its ethereal glory
to reflect
on the
 inspiration
fashioned
mirrored
in
conceptual space
 discovered
by
visionaries
&
expressionist
glowing
in a
 maximalist style

Structures

STRUCTURES
intrigue
  resonates
in
informal
 voice
depend
upon
  the unusual
begetting
emotion

in
reflected
detachment
&
figures
of speech

authentic
  particulars
meaningfully
compressed
6
  transmitted

Radiance of Sunset

It was time for day to bid adieu to the setting sun,
when tangerine hues blend with those of pale pink.
Not to miss the titian glow, I was afraid to blink,
now that the ebbing of twilight had finally begun.

Slowly, it descended below the horizon's edge,
a sanguine orb drowning in a cobalt blue sea.
Sunset is such an enchanting pleasure for me,
as sunlight disappears behind the cliff's ledge.

During the begetting of night, my mind was at play
with thoughts of writing of a moment I won’t forget
and of the crowning halo of light of the sun's coronet.
The one it offers to the moon at the end of each day.

Cascades of pastel colors stretched across the skies.
My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'
I watched a last flicker of light dip in an ocean swell.
A radiant canvas loomed before my awestruck eyes.

The grand finale' of this prismatic pageantry, I lauded,
as this lustrous sunset slowly slipped away from me,
waved goodbye and sank into the depths of the sea.
Another sunset made its exit.  I stood and applauded.

Zen Mode

pristinity of unfettered awareness
on earth hemmed in by senses
contoured in organic form
and enslaved by mind
is the cage it’s in
as we chose
and yet
always free
upon dissolving
intent birthing desire
attachment begetting fear
flowing instead of stagnating
in dynamic stillness, ever in renewal

Dancing of Earth

When spring arrives,
A group of flowers enjoy
Their countenance and
As the day grows older
They lose their incandescent looks.
If they could know the collapse
Before the begetting,
I hope they'd remain unborn.

A child was obsessed with
Playing her dolls,
Fortuitously a wooden wife
Fell on, mother said:
'The earth is dancing',
The child took it in a wrong way,
Her body was found
After ten days under the whetted
Crown of cement made house,
The sun kissed her pale cheeks
And gave her last smile.

Lemon Is Common and Not Common

Don’t try to make common Lemon,
Though we know Lemon is common:
Those who do obeying Demon,
King David’s wayward son Amon…

No risks of sleeping with sister
Nor by her begetting a mister -
Lemon is quite medicinal,
Rejecting the point criminal;
By the average white treasured, 
Whose clear merits he has measured…

Lemon: Green Citrus here with us
Yet, oranges we’d fill in bus,
By this showing on the juicy
Man incurably the choosy…

Feared by Cancer: The Terminal
On this have been works: seminal;
Still for Nigerians Tangerine,
Just like for Guitar Tambourine…
But this won’t be changing its grant
Of a smell uniquely fragrant.

• Short Begetting Poems
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• Long Begetting Poems
• Begetting Quotes