Best Blended Poems
Put a man who is wholesome
into a mixing pan.
Combine one loving woman
and blend well with the man.
Add the children of the man,
and the woman’s children too.
Mix them all together
as you would a pot of stew.
You’ll want to add some patience.
It will help the taste a lot.
If you’re not sure how much,
just throw in all you’ve got.
Then, six cups of sweetener
and fourteen cups of love.
Sprinkle in some blessings
from the heavens high above.
When the mixture is complete
with great joy you will see,
the creation of an awesome,
loving blended family.
A combined family.
A tricky situation.
One I have managed to avoid and gladly
I have no idea how they do it.
Each thinking the other one’s children
are spoiled.
Keeping their mouths shut
or worse, taking over too soon.
A tricky situation.
One I have gladly avoided
Lands of my mother color my skin bold. Pale and freckled.
my skin remembers the lush lands of old and i am swarmed with Irish blood.
Tanned and sun kissed, like my mothers people,
i am tainted by her strong Italian blood.
Soft as silk, i'm bred from her french roots. Creative and lush.
Skin like my mothers heritage, i am born of white blood.
Curls from my fathers past, native and strong, my ethnic shines through.
Indian, strong, and proud. Smokey and dark like the ancient people i fall from,
my gaze is forever lasting. Light and brown, i am rich with African blood.
Long, tall, and lean like my fathers homage, i am born or intricate lineage.
Queens from my past lives, bow before my roots, with depths that reach far into the earth. i am born of all and belong to none. Blended of several bloodlines and crafted from many cloths, i belong to all the legends of the world but is known by no names. Past lives that relate to the slaves of the Americas but known by kings rich with English blood, i belong to both sides but regarded by none. Feared by their Egyptian masters my forefathers bore the pain of the desert, but i am remembered as scholars in the scrolls of the tombs. I am blended with all the beauty of the world and blended with all the wrongs. I wear a mask of my fathers past, but am rich with my mothers ancestry.
I am Beautifully Blended.
images slowly set
as colours cry
wet-into-wet
Inspired by James Peranteau's recent poem ALL COLORS CRY
Whistler was a master of this technique as was Manet.A favourite of mine see this link ( a
large print of which was bought by my family for my 60th (over a decade back now) and
hangs in our lounge.
http://www.allpaintings.org/v/Impressionism/Edouard+Manet/Edouard+Manet+-
+Blue+Venice.jpg.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Abbott_McNeill_Whistler
Even though we have different colored skin.
We have some of the same friends.
We even follow some of the same
trends.
We both hustle to make our ends.
Now that we have found true love.
The kind of love that will never end.
This is when life really and truly begins.
Then when we have kids,
we then go from blended to extended.
Yes we will have our ups and downs,
but this isn't how our story ends.
Blended themes of hopes and dreams now seasoned by the years.
Awakening at dawn to the gift of a day, no longer wrought by fears.
This gift of time is most sublime as death's doors creep so near,
keep close the ones you love the most and all that you hold dear.
Hidden in the dawn of each new day are the subtle opportunities
that God gives away. With a humble heart my thoughts align, so
blessed to be granted this miracle of time.
A beautiful chameleon doesn't ever find good hue identity. Just keeping leaf marks, not only... Petals quickly read some twilighting under vast waterfalls.
X-raying yellow zigzags.
my love
for you is true
so uncomplicated
new beginning for our two hearts
together forever, just me and you
forget the past, happiness lasts
hearts blended, extended
blessed from above
real love
My lady
My ladies, younger
One and two
Can't be taken for granted
Their powerful love
Coloured with forgiveness
Again, I thank my Savior
Jesus, the reassuring joy in my soul
Come death or birth - days
Amen. Shalom shalom friends
Upended side silhouetted curves
Guitar gut succumbs concave pummel
Stroke of silk amber timber turns
Tranced incessant performer to animal
Strings emit unconcious melody
Calloused hands mollest chords, glide
Neat neck shake resonates body
Four kick outline organise notes inside
Looped chorus caught contagion
Spills rhythmic spools of tuneful allure
Tale telling verse's return enables
Beat subdued by soulful bridge endure
Slow tempo finale of song abrupt
Fickle fingers emptied petition an encore
Bouy bubble brief popped corrupt
Cadence swings wild windswept rapport
6th February 2021
Written for Contest: Sensual
Sponsor : Charlotte Puddifoot
navel oranges
fell into a grape vineyard ~
viva sangria
. for public domain
At first the Light was overwhelming,
no sense of self was found there dwelling,
no sense of end, and no beginning,
bright whirls only of endless spinning.
Gradually, a sense of self returned,
unscathed, unbounded, unburned.
Together with the Light it churned,
and both were one when we returned.
And now, neither one domineering,
and neither one found interfering,
we, blended as one, are pioneering
the blissful future we are steering.
A Blended Separation
1.
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
A few vows and some random distorted fights,
We'd talk for hours and then just vanish in daylight-
Was it the void in between us? Or we knew the other would be okay without talking several times;
Were we so much casual or we had individual lives?
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
.
2.
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
Envy growing stronger day by day,
and nothing left inside us-
To stick by each others' sides,
Were we turning out to be toxic?
Or it was how it was supposed to be organized?
A few words of hope was enough to make us realize-
'How much we were into each other'
But who wants to rejoice?
Prejudice taking place of love and hopes committing suicide;
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
.
3.
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
How could we just leave things behind,
The words we said or the promises we made;
Were they just things we said to vibe?
The late night chat, the good morning texts-
How could we just not hold onto them tight?
An invoice of statements and a few dreams seen together kept aside,
A blended separation is what we should call it right?
.
The type of women, with I often blended,
You can easy find in the local bars around.
It's a type which is my mother warned about,
And type which daddy heartily recommend!
Porous promises
Replete reticent repose
Listless listened lies