Best Bypasses Poems
Winter's Slumber Contest
Regina McIntosh
Winter's slumber has me in cozy places, warm and comforted
I am grateful for the wood fire that burns, many blankets I have
So many things to help me get through the bitter cold
The wind that howls through the woods and all the piles of snow
It is the season to hunker down, giving time to reflect on past events
To plan positive things for the days ahead, to process methodically
A time to be grateful for new things and old creative talents
Still, the sun shines on many cold days, rising with endurance
As it creates sparkling stars in the pure, white, snow
Showing beauty bypasses the battles of the cold weather
I awaken from slumber on these stark, beautiful, days
Birds come to the feeder, as I watch the show through frosty windows
A colorful picture filled with songs, alert my senses to see and hear
It is a time to cherish the shelter of this safe home
To appreciate all there is when the world is cold outside
A time for rest, a time for relaxation, a time to enhance intuition
It is a contrast of kindness and bitterness, calmness and fierceness
The power of patience, granted by the bulbs, waiting to bloom in spring
12/26/23
I hear the rhythm beneath your breast,
music of intense emotion,
with a volume of such depth,
it bypasses my ears
to enter my mind,
which interprets
for my heart
and tears
fall
On the way to the nursing home, we pass many beautiful sights. So many homes with pleasant yards, lawns, and flowers that delight. After so many days of rain then a little break, green everywhere abounds.
kudzu wraps up trees
grows rapidly reaches road....
goats needed to dine
Several homeplaces have clear-cut trees so that the area looks completely different. Then the area where the tornado came through and demolished so many acres of trees, damaged homes, and other buildings. It will take years for it to grow back or will it ever?
birds can't find a tree
nesting impossible there....
landscaped homes needed
The anxiety grows as we get nearer to the nursing home. Will the visit be much the same? He no longer has his hearing aids so that adds to his confusion. He mostly can't hear nor understand so the conversation bypasses him totally. She isn't up to date with the times either because she is isolated or she can't remember. The short-term memory is gone. It went the way of yesterday and can't return. They are not allowed to share a room nor are they in the same section of the home.
nurse brings her out first
he comes out, sits next to her....
they kiss, worth while trip
Let me chase that naughty witch
on the flying, wooden broom...
causing havoc and gloom,
that's why she's super rich
robbing any unlit house watched by a raccoon
and laughing she bypasses the orange moon.
Ugly and treacherous witch, you won't admit
that you steal candies from children's bags without a rip,
but proof is on your rotten teeth yellowed by sweets...
doesn't their cry move you enough to return their treats?
Why would a witch on a flying, wooden broom
steal and hide goodies in the darkest castle room,
where the empty caskets of vampires lay?
Have you seen the blood stains earlier in the day?
Fly over pumpkin-lit graveyards while Death looks for skeletons
to hang on trees to celebrate the eerie Halloween night...
keep away from such an horrifying place infested with bats;
fly faster, fly higher before darkness becomes light!
Copyright ( c ) 2012 by Andrew Crisci
The duality of a man?
the inner beast of the outer man,
aeons ago were quite unplanned,
the spirit surfer entered a beast,
took control and enjoyed the feast,
when it killed some beast of prey,
many friends of the surfer type,
enraptured with their planet flights ,
by thought they travelled through,
in an instant they were due,
on Mars they'd spend a night,
doing things that spirits do,
taking over bodies, right,
spring into a body a Mastadon ,
to hump a female or fight was wrong?
To alter the path of the beast they drew,
Alligator or Kangaroo,
possession, was too strong?
On Earth they entered many beasts,
some with feathers, with tails, 4 feet,
stayed till it died at least,
and changed it's evelution,
though alters matter see it change,
the picture in you brain arrange,
the power of thought,
escapes the few,
old ways were, of this they knew,
creation this was brought,
a doubt will get you ought,
the narrow minded too,:}
the animal host has the instinct to kill,
anger bypasses, the spirit chilled,
blood and guts sumarrily spilled,
beast reflex is in action,
no spirit satisfaction,
this horror it aint willed,
the duality of a man?
Don Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77BDitquiZU
Read Edgar Cayce on the origins of man…
Possibly it explains why man is a predator, a murderer.
Given his animal body inhabitedv by a dubious controller spirit form,
Which is stronger during anger or passion, spirit or beast???
Re: The Spirit Animal combination.
The predator animal some humans descend from in the body type will kill in passion or anger or for fun?
The spirit in the body tries to stop this happening as it the spirit knows it will have to return to a lower worse level in little Hell Earth, to suffer for the spirit weakness in controlling the animal lust in the adopted beast, man. So the strong moral spirit subjugates the
normal tempered beast with some difficulty, but the caged beast waits to pounce on its prey.
Hence a possible murderer waits his chance to overpower the weakling spirit, to do his instinct thing of the animal world quite naturally?
Don Johnson
Memories fade
Which is crazy cause I figured the thought of me was etched carved and engraved
Into your heart and soul
But today I find out how much your mind is playing a role
It can fail deceive and corrupt
But today from so far away its the tears that erupt
They rise up up from deep within
Cause soon I may have to begin
To realize that your time is short left here on earth alive
Dear grandma please survive
Just a little bit longer, give me a chance to get back to you one last time
To tell you I love you, hope it bypasses your head straight to your heart
So you can reach back deep within for that memory of what we are
What we have been and always will be
The most important thing in this world to me...one word...family
Unconditional love,
that grants me access to a faraway paradise,
is what I feel for you
Breath taking beauty
is what I see in you
A euphonious voice,
that bypasses my senses
and makes me believe even the impossible,
is what I hear from you
Love is a bastion of benevolence
that is said to block all malevolence,
but I impugn this absurd assumption
because even love is susceptible
Blinded by love,
I lived a beautiful illusion,
flabbergasted by the heartbreaking reality to which I awoke to
Now I wander this warped nightmare
in which the futility of my efforts is proven with every disappointment presented,
debilitated by my ignominious ineptitude to overcome my profound melancholy
I venture into this unknown world of cruelty,
in which I am fate’s puppet,
with no hope of ever returning
I would give it all up to be with you my love,
but sadly I know you wouldn't do the same
Regardless, I refuse to let go of this suffering
even if I know my pitiful invocation
is nothing but a futile attempt to change my depressing fate
Oceans
You're beautiful like a work of art
The things I'll do for your attention bypasses any limitations
To emerge in your waters
Sets a surreal perfection into reality
I'll let the winds carry my mind and drift me into the oasis
Counter acting waves to shift my attention
Floating ever so slowly and ever so sweet
Surfing the idea of intertwined oceans
See my currents wave for
You
Your body is amazing
Sculpted to perfection
You sway so smooth
It's Hypnotizing
The perfect shade of beauty as the sun sets
Makes me wonder
How deep are your waters
Lucid as I can see
Your minds the power
And I believe we see the same thing
We dream the same dreams
Of meeting someone who's perfect
Then starting a new life that's smoother than all or currents
That washes away the pain
And flourishes happy moments
The point I'm trying to get at is plan as you can see
There's nothing more perfect than when two body's of water meet
By:Justin sharp
Pecos Bill daddled and skedaddle like molasses.
Sunglasses cuddled, his badass
Stetson buffalo cowboy hat.
Lashes his airish, passive donkie Mis. Do Goglles
as he passes, airin' the lungs.
Sits there like that passin gasses,
at the chanting masses.
Allers among the willows, Pecos bypasses,
poaches the stooges
Dooie and Doodle Doodole's angelicas, n boozes.
Bested by the Sheriff, neat and straight on its feet, no actress;
a rope chafed Pecos neck at the gallows.
3/3/2020
Allers – Always
Among the Willows – Dodging the Law.
Western Slang, Lingo, and Phrases – A Writer’s Guide to the Old West
https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-slang/#A
I fear my sleep.
For my mind unshackled
Runs rampant
Visiting colonies of forgotten thoughts
And unwanted memories.
It bypasses the chains
And the padlocks
Paying no heed
To their reason for being.
I feel overwhelmed
As past emotions overthrow my dreams
And invades my head
And I am consumed!
The avalanche has begun.
I feel weak
For a fortnight of insomnia
Is the price I willingly pay
As I stay awake to forget
It visits the mind
Here in my bed where I rest my bones
It meanders through the avenues
Bypasses and fly overs
These thoughts of love
Here in my bed with me.
The mind like a sieve
Filters the moments and the fun
That I have shared.
It separates the hard times
Letting the good times leak
The feeling is good.
A moment or two visits the heart
Waters flow to it
For a second the heart is marshland
Where the feelings hold for a while
The reeds naturally filter the waters
What escapes is clean and aerated.
Lovely is the feeling
In the mind I recycle again
To recall each moment I shared.
Deep into the forest of yesterday
I journey into the labyrinth
The feeling is enchanting.
Thought after thought I journey
Deep and deep I go
For I remember yesterday.
I journey so far away
Without knowledge
I am fast asleep
Walking through the boulevard
like a burdened beetle
I move through the bylanes
of hopes and dreams
I see a house across the lane,
the lane that bypasses the memory
Walking through the doors,
I feel my existence
The existence of a world that was,
and of people who were a part of me
I stood there looking at the window,
A ray peeping through the crack,
The dust settling its remorse
Where a cup of tea
Used to accompany rain
The rickety stairs
make way for the childhood plays,
I see myself juggling the toys
I find my mirror,
A half-battered commando
A dungeon gate flayed by time,
seems a swag of webbed spiders
Where grandpa used to wait,
with open yearning arms
The arms, a haven of love and
the solicitor of my mischief…
A vacuum has replaced this love
I am yet to find any intruders
In this home, at this place
I find myself,
and question my identity
the world seems to shudder
and the mind revolves
I see the stairs, the door,
the lane and the window
I see the toys, my grandpa
the commando and the rain
A thud wakes me up,
A photo frame falls down
I see grandpa amidst the shattered pieces
I see a house across that lane…
There is something about eighteen wheelers,
For most of us can only wonder.
A trucker is respected to the up most,
From the east to west coast.
Oh demand to get to their destination,
Wist no hesation.
Only the strong will go the long haul,
They have no time to stall.
The endurance they have to keep on going,
In order to maintain what their hauling.
Keeping the peddle to the metal,
Across plains, bypasses, and meadows.
The sparkle you can see in their eyes,
Trucking is what they enjoy in their lives.
Meeting new people on the road,
While hauling that heavy load.
Oh what stories they have to tell,
And do it so very well.
For what I say, is what I have seen,
Becuase my husband is one of these.
A wife who knows the truth in their heart,
Someone that's been there from the start.
Never to tell how alone and scared I maybe,
Trucking is what they love and desire that's plain to see.
So for all those truckers out there,
Stay alert and aware.
Theres someone special waiting at home,
Calmly waiting by the phone.
Families who love and cares for all of you,
And ask the Lord to be with you too.
summer scent of roses loosens grips of gloom
floral cups of red charm capture healing,
melt defenses
she inhales a held bouquet
ensnared romantically,
one couple's free fall to love
in a fragrance courting worship
its aroma of lushness
immodest crimson flames, born on long stems
she bypasses thorns, the cutting traces of pain
cultivates blooms
the crisp red blush of summer
that soothes corrosive woe
to soften her restless sway, misgivings
what shimmers in a garden?
scents seductive
enticing her
stirringly brief
an atmospheric wonder
as secrets slide away
For Brian Strand Contest 1097
Poem written - June 20/21
Revised March 26, 2022
Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell even at this juncture in my life.
Even when spiked brambles
scrape my eyelids or those tender foot soles are being twisted by tooth-like stones. Quaint and angular they cluster mischievously among
green shoots that litter every footpath.
They lie in wait, in ambush for the absent-minded unsuspecting venturer.
It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman of the road.
The labyrinthine landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills rife in my area.
Their rustic heritage now sacrifice to the
orphanage of a malleable environment
Crop farmers obsessed with harvest bounty.
Restless developer pushing limits of an urban jungle. Fellow traveller in league with those fugitives from the cockpit.
The pressure cooker of modern life. Town habitant with split loyalties who clings to tumults of the city but hankers after rural haunts of yore.
Culprits one and all.
A lair from the hubbub.
Dwellings of the strangest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.
Their charm not yet eroded by intrusions of the steel plant genus.
Brick and mortar athletes of homes in a jiffy.
The more alluring aspects of tradition have been fostered and preserved.
Among these are the shortcuts or bypasses of a different more sustainable engagement
Sequestered passages that shave miles off perennial ramblers with a penchant for straying off course.
Saviours of the clueless hitchhiker whose load saps his or her every energy.
One’s eye becomes a lense to all these things hidden or supposedly hidden.
Optic sensor to those trails just slightly out of focus.
Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.
They festoon far flung countrysides at random. Here there and everywhere.
Posted ; April 2nd 2022