Best Elongating Poems
Black softness nestles in his sheen so fab
as warm purrs vibrate his feline aura
Gash-like, a red neck-sash swings a gleaming
heart-shaped pendant, swaying a dangled flash.
Ebon stretches as the midnight creature
elongating his compacted frame, lithe.
Reaching, he uncurls a bounding jaguar
awake to the moon’s abracadabra
(10/31/2019: For my Halloween companion in tonight's sickle moon)
Lost like unused syllables in unrhyming words
petals of frilled sorrow drip to the earth from weeping trees,
crying each filigreed petal slowly, one by one,
in cascades of gentle tears to their tender rest,
shaping billowing beds of brightly colored pillows,
until soft breaths of evening breeze exhale long sighs
through longing limbs creating whirlwinds of smiling fragrance
in the fawning dance of each nectarous petal.
Like lover's swirling in life's last dying embrace,
reflections of cold loneliness slip past with each fallen bud.
Soon the flowers will be lost in winter's stark gray advance,
and the smooth bark of the Crepe Myrtle will lie dormant
yearning for the elongating warm caress of Spring,
and its delicate chiffon cloak of humbled innocence,
again hiding its discomfiting gnarled nakedness
behind silken vales of scintillating incandescence.
11/07/15
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
Thoughts spew inside my head – too
fast to articulate. Too deep to defend. Ticking like a badly timed bomb
infused with a faulty timer – I reach for the pen…
words align themselves as I walk Through the clutches of Pre-validation. My mind
is appeased – my will is at ease…until the stumbler opens his mouth:
“Poetry” he whispers and I’m thrown
Into the vapors of Validation wondering, perhaps, maybe? Could it be
that without will I have created that which could be termed
as poetry? The jury is out: the naysayers and the critics;
the conservatives and realists;
friends and foes –
torturing my mind, stroking my ego, making my blood boil,
soothing my heart…
tears I cannot cry…smiles they can not see…
anger spills out; indifference sets in;
I wring my mind and
pack my poem
slowly I embark on the
Wrought past Post-validation.
Baby steps in forming words I love. Twisting the poem in forms I’ve
learnt. Dressing it in different styles, shortening it, elongating it;
Snip, snap, cut, bandage –
Rhythm no rhythm. Basking in formless form.
Counting and discounting syllables
But still it’s not enough.
What’s the use of words if they don’t effect?
Diving into The plunge I reign in the words – the leader of my chariot-
My poem succumbs to my will.
Wielding, exposing, slicing, dicing, building, destroying, encouraging,
condemning
the poem breathes – a life of its own.
And I think to myself Oh please who am I to be the wielder of such potency?
I call it back.
Taking a stroll along the beach, I reminisce of things past;
The things I’ve done; the things I’ve not done;
The rot in the world; the love
that begs to be heard…
The thoughts start swirling in my mind.
….
My steps take me back to the beginning…
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
For: Boomerrang Contest sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
Swingers of drenching waters
Drifters of fini coasters
Skating on lines of lakes and rivers
Dancing as spiral rafters
Bowing down before the sunny skies
Elongating wings of frozen cries
Beaks of clamored pleas
Speaks with enamored gees
Lake of praying feathers
Wake of snowy, silent breeders
Flakes of glowing winter chills
Ice plates dining on easter bills
Swan lake of fondest quest
Prancing eyes of widest dress
Seven swans spanning the hidden cove
Species of the blessed world
I am scrolling down hill,
folding the pills,
elongating the tree's
and simplifying the breeze,
I am a song to be played-
earlier than you might say
in the day,
when hearing is a complaint
and danger is delayed,
but you are a spade,
to be wondered and craved,
you are your own way,
with the sing of the slave-
underground-
above the haze,
glazed with the betrayed,
honed in on like waves,
so stubborn your gay-
holding on to the page!
Don't you walk that way!
Troubled little weaver-
always weavin' in and out of the days,
with your face,
and two others that may show you the way.
So...Whenever there is game,
whenever you are just being insane,
two others can ring your ping-
scratch at your lawn,
ease your bickering fawn,
who is ages old-
cranky and yet cold,
shines like the rivers of silver soles,
wasted and bold.
...Blanketing and broad like the system of the slots,
put in a coin so you can jog-
with your eye's,
and with your pogs,
fall to the floor,
while dude ranchers await cry's out the doors,
become single and slower,
dangerous like snow blowers,
manned by cats
with fake joints hangin' in their lips crowin,'
as they are growin,' croppin,'
and sowing,
the stage is set to start goin,'
but you stay all knowin'-
with the people out there- asses a blowin'!
Like the sound of the tick was that on it-
like the leaper out of time was so subordinate,
you know you could have grabbed mine,
you know about other ways to shine,
but still you sit and grind-
sleep and unwind,
base your catches on other famous people's finds...
I don't confide,
I really don't try,
I just hear god and ask about the water in the sky,
why doesn't it come down on African pride?
When they need it most?
When we know 911 proved evil the most...
But sit here and boast
and you'll hear gods jokes-
he's got what a man needs,
he's got you underneath a sheet,
so don't breathe!
Just start running,
got the mustard?
Pray for a plead,
because random people leave
while friends try and greet,
an acre of land with animals and plants couldn't please,
even if they spoke the language, and cured the disease,
sorry if I sound meek-
but pride comes when I'm done writing these...
Bundle of rules elongating the short distance between a problem and its solution
Unnecessary layers compulsorily placed on a mounted ladder with very few steps
Road expectedly smooth and direct is created with uneven stones and many bends
Every step is an independent process making the system tiring and liable to corruption
Alternating procedures and changing routes heavily function in the handling of issues
Under these so many ambiguous limbs is the fertile ground to germinate yet more problems
Complication storms out of these processes lined up in a queue with undefined relevance
Rare is the accuracy of timing respected as it is bastardized in five to ten folds
Add-ons a very possible side effect embracing the commotion of the mercy of many hands
Cruel is this system, especially in the 21st century of advancement in data processing
Yet loved by establishments of worlds without regard to maximizing human services.
Starry moonlit sky
elongating two shadows
against the lagoon
Time’s scorched peach, spread syrupy soft
rolling thick then thin its umber, gossamer
Inside a dome gone silent, beating bacchii
pulsated a slow awakening like oozing sap
lazily rolling as a veil unfurls its edged curl
Elongating silken strands, etching in drape…
Time lays on rocky curves and water’s flat
Its lurid rays painless, whisper “Shh, it’s I!”
Mesmerized, all still to be charred in “Om”
Eventide then swallows silhouettes, whole…
(5/18/23)
When you see the mouth elongating
And the tongue diving between the teeth
Like the tongue of a hunting chameleon
Then you are sure this is stolen laughter
When lips part and twist on one side
Saliva dripping like rain of broken gutters
With the voice cracking- croak, croak
Like a frog in lone ghostly swamps
When you hear others complaining
That the laughter is a hyena’s laugh
Giggling voices of demons in a cave
Then the laughter is stolen indeed
Stolen laughter, stolen laughter
The big lie that robs the innocent
Liberty and freedom of humanity
the victims will be vindicated in time
I dream of you my beloved Daisy, you were of such flagrant colour
Your fragrance filled the air, as the rays showered on you in downpours
And I take a step towards you, even my own feet adores your beauty
Gently, I touched your petals, they are velvety and soft and silky
As the tips of my finger caressed you, in such delicacy as your delicacy
You stood so confidently, flourishing in a garden of none as your competition
So easily you catch the eyes and trap the hearts and insinuate such passion
I do not want to wake from this world, from the imaginations
And I thirst in such desperation that you come in your beaux to satiate
For I am addicted to your fragrance and your nectar that none can repudiate
Darling Daisy of my dreams, I shall not pluck you from your roots
But sit abreast you, elongating this dream, to wonder in the captures of you
Seasonal precipice
eErie haze, becalm water
elongating obscurity
Binded
promisingly adorned cirrus
tinged fuscia, luster
Ascending radience
captivating
Still
unnerving
No one likes you.
We hate you.
No one loves you.
You might as well go kill yourself.
No one will even miss you once you're gone....
Why tell someone these things?
What good does that bring you?
Does it make you feel big and strong?
It makes you do the devil's work.
It makes you the coward, the weakling.
Let him be.
Let him be him just like he lets you be you.
As he crawls inside of himself to discover who he is,
Others bring the weight of the boundless universe upon him, upon his fortress.
His inner sanctuary is within himself, yet each day the narrowing hallway is elongating.
It's getting harder and harder for him to reach.
He cuts himself open, slice by slice, trying to make the hallway bigger.
He's a little guy, always has been, yet he can't seem to fit anymore.
The echoing laughter in his head is making it unbearable.
He can't even think anymore because the menacing outsiders won't let him.
He's thrown out into the cold on a daily basis.
He sits alone everywhere he goes because he's too timid to show the real him,
And no one seems to care.
They point and whisper, mock and stare.
The words that smack him leave bruises of every hue on his face,
His face he forces a smile upon when his parents ask, "So Tyler, how was school today?"
When will it all go away?...
Well you've gotten exactly what you've wanted.
He's gone now.
Are you happy?
Has his walk into the peace of God made you feel any better?
Do you see his family anymore?
Do you think they feel any better?
They should.
No one loved him right? No one would miss him you said?
Well I miss him.
Think about the inner world of bliss that lies within us all.
Will you yourself ever reach that place now?....
The time ticks by
As I stare at the clock
Knowing my near future.
Just sitting
Waiting.
No news, no change.
Storms rage,
Confusion, resignation, consternation .
The time seems slower somehow.
Like the whole world still turns but us.
Decisions. Coffee? No coffee?
Who can predict?
People bustle, not knowing, dazed.
Children scream with over tired,
Hot sticky evening air.
All becomes predictable,
We all make a new temporary home here.
As if we are refugees
Clubbed together in our island
Our land of no name
No country.
All set adrift.
Time still ticks by,
Ever slower.
Stretching each second
Elongating the interstitial pauses.
We can do no more.
We eat, drink, shop.
Nothing in those world
Is like an airport delay
Impossible mission to pinpoint present
such fleeting moment instantaneously spent
according to yours truly i.e. this gent
mind boggled, intrigued, stymied...
courtesy unseen minute
(mine hoot, minoot, my newt...) agent
provocateur stealing every precious second,
whether or not satisfactorily spent
time thief absconds with
most treasured commodity
nary tell tale sign,
where he/she went
allegedly, inscrutably, seemingly...
robbing in plain sight fervent
as greased lightning
ramping, stepping, ticking up
blithely skedaddling across firmament
ratcheting frenzied temperament
upon psyche – regarding current
temporary soul searching resident
unstoppably speeding, jetting, barreling...
trigonometrically calculating tangent
severely distorted against
turbulent kaleidoscopic hallucinatory
backdrop – centripetal/centrifugal adjacent
forces compressing body electric
elongating flesh beyond infinity
diaphanous corporeal essence rent
asunder obviously self evident
Ahab bin to theorize
Pequod now to thee extent
overactive imagination lent
allows, enables, and provides
poetic license allotment
extemporizing this entire extent
stretching corpus callosum
to breaking point as well cogent
continuity fractured no different
than usual literary pablum
wariness cautionary brief adage,
when traipsing thru apparent
gobbledygook on par with
puttering around greenacres,
vis vis equivalent
ensnared within wide
webbed whirled sand trap event
chilly eroded Earth's landmasses
made of rocks and minerals
bajillion years metamorphosis refulgent
glistening silicon dioxide
in form of quartz
feldspar and mica supplement
granules ergo timeless saga never ends
or begins analogous
to Möbius strip lambent.
Focused, concentrating
on some random
but persistent thought
riveted in ruminations
fixed on point and purpose,
ponderings deep and dark
in retrospective scrutiny;
Aged, antiquated,
moments and years,
decades and suddenly a century
passe, slipped into senescence
names, history
lost in time.
Startling, staring, fading away,
hazing in dull images
out of time and out to space,
evanescence, dispersed,
vaporized, evaporated,
lost in the moment,
dematerialized from reality.
Time intervals, stretching, elongating
millennia unrecorded
scratching at eternity,
forever modes, ended
life spans, lifetimes, legacies
names, history, forgotten
in missing time.