Best Heady Poems
( In memoriam - the heady days of draft, hippies, moon-landing and Gloria Steinem)
When Armstrong landed on the distant moon
It was a wild world full of hopes and dreams.
Hippies sang songs to melodious tune,
In jungles abroad there were painful screams.
It was a wild world full of hopes and dreams,
A father and his son fought side by side.
In jungles abroad there were painful screams,
Hard-headed woman would mores deride.
A father and his son fought side by side,
So where do the children play in these times?
Hard-headed woman would mores deride,
"Antiestablishment" those days was crime.
So where do the children play in these times?
Hippies sang songs to melodious tune,
"Antiestablishment" those days was crime
When Armstrong landed on the distant moon.
~02 Jun 2016~
Syllable count - 10 syllables per line (via www.how many syllables.com)
Titles From Cat Steven (Yusuf Islam) Numbers:
Armstrong
Wild world
Father and son
Hard headed woman
Where do the children play
Layering stroke by stroke
the syllables of filtered mist's breath,
eastern winds spin like a circle of tropical
fish and flower beds on a lattice...
and the soft tresses of this air pours
on wayfarers sort of crystal beads new.
Then another circle whistles
inside my flesh, a sponge... an oasis,
bathing loin towel of morn dawning;
how its flavor speaks and lifts
trinkets of jeweled drops
to lightly swirl away.... mid way.
Wind Contest: SKAT's
8/29/2015
spring melts into summer’s light
proving wrong that still despair,
chilled in winter’s heart,
has corroded to the marrow
for even poppies bloom
in broken fields and shell holes
bones blanketed in shrouds of moss
trill of larks cross no man’s land
as pollen floats out lazy over fields
fuzzed with sprouts and turned earth
windblossoms mazy crisscrossed
blown like crimson tracers
cicadas drone their symphonies
calling humid waves
warping off fields like sultry wraiths
moaning at dead eyed cocks on broken weathervanes
cats, lazy from the heat,
retreat to hidden nooks
détente with bird and squirrel
water oaths held dear
water ripples on silent streams
tracing gusts like a rolling barrage of cotton ingots
heavy with odors of stratosphere, of faraway places
tearing at the heart’s windsock
wet bulb heat folded in cumulous
divebombed by nectar laden bees
crazy for the blossoms
soaked and sultry queenright days
a story, sad songs
decibels rung in high towers
echelons above reality
sung to tone deaf and dusty gods
skies clear of dark storm crows
now becoming past
soon becoming now
then slides to never
as photographs fade
at times it’s too much
this heady weight of others
moments like whispers gone
while standing windburnt on hillsides
barren and mass wasted
somewhere distant wardrums beat
our racial folie à deux...
Lilacs in bloom, heady bouquet,
for just a short time with us they stay.
Gone as quickly as the month of May.
So enjoy them before they fade away.
~~for Brian Strand's 'One Single
Four Line end rhyme' contest~~
by Sashi.Prabhu
(17/2/2012)
Shrouded and festooned with quaintness i try to elucidate the trips of mystery,
T’was dark and it was then I realized that the morn and noon was history.
A smooth trip on mother nature’s bounties rolled on neatly into a joint,
It felt all day as me and the bard within went on a trip from reality the shackle disjoint.
Rendezvous point was at the foothills of the zeauoxian Milky Way
Way beyond my mind can comprehend I see myself move fast and dwindle away.
Away, away and far away through starry paths, the galactic colonies and black holes
Yesterday seemed like tomorrow and today like the near future, written on ash scrolls
Tornados, galactial storms, raining meteorite, planets, and stars I beyond them travel,
Oh my body is the ship and my mind the deck console for the paths to ravel.
There at a distance I see us approaching Venus,
Hovering above hostile mutant colonies with mammals, moth worms and flora genus,
Earth behind seemed afar & beautiful and I every moment growing creative and ticinus.
Ship trips and galaxial flips,
Tardy nites and the dark nicotine stained finger tips,
Annular eclipse occurring in my mind’s eye as the white light zips,
Rummaging my mindly scripts for notes of melancholy strains as the notes dance on,
Slammed by the downer, my trips are done& for another, on ganjain I count upon.
HEADY MINDS
Our minds project and name:
this realization is rumbling
underneath our shadows and struggle..
Is it not amazing
that externals are projections
awaiting..but not long.. for their names
eagerly provided by heady minds..
This realization reverses
our notions..those heady beliefs
of separation as wisely undeniable..
Although the rumbling often seems
fleeting and faint
not reportable in shadowy newsdays
real Happiness is found seeping in...
There was a chef famous for his quiche
Crowds came in and paid lots of baksheesh
Feds came into town
they busted his crown
for his quiche was sprinkled with hashish
White,
double
daffodil-
early thrill
sprinkles Spring's aroma upon my sill.
Eyes closed, he leans back into comfort,
The lulled background music is his pillow.
Weary head swaying to the sound of the song,
The music massages the very knots of his life.
A single candles flickers, casting shadows,
It's eerie light conflicting comfort with doubt.
Tranquility envelopes him as he draws deep sigh,
Dispelling the grime of life, exhaling unwanted.
A column of smoke lazily spirals upwards,
A pensive thought for the cigarette moment.
Taking to the lungs with a need not equalled,
Working it's magic, freeing his tension, he floats.
Surreal madness captured in passing thought,
As the fingers of the night reach out to him.
In a smoky haze he spirals to total satisfaction,
Relaxed to the point of slumber, willingly he concedes.
©.L.Kelly
Can dreams of man know death at all if God exists in fact?
If we are just the dreams of God, Creation's more an act
Of intellect! Can sin be real? Can man exist apart
From God, and have free will, if all life is God's heart?
Do waves of times flow endlessly without a bounding shore?
Eternity seems just a joke if DREAMS are evermore!
Is love a possibility if sin exists at all?
Is 'God' conflicted like we are, and waiting for a call
From larger God, that might explain where limits lie and why!
Are men extensions of His will? The 'Big Bang' just God's cry
Of loneliness, a 'temper fit,' the fireworks of His mind,
Our thoughts and dreams gift to Himself, His struggle to be kind?
It truly makes no sense to me that God does not exist.
God's Science tell us stars will die! Can 'Universe' persist
When lights go out, it's soul find life? What question's not devout?
That "Heaven's guest's a child" suggests, that's just what life's about!
To dream, I'll meet God face to face, my God! That's heady stuff!
No matter how I praise His Name, how could it be enough?
'JUST' 'Universe' so huge my friend, God's Glory's beyond ken!
What 'Grace,' His gift, that Christ would die to show God's 'Love' for men!
Long Tooth
August 4th in 2019
Heady Cocktail
Sometimes there comes a
grace with growing up
cruising into the
autumn of life
alive and well
now the rush of looking in
the mirror most mornings
in total amazement at being
comfortable with who looks back
through crows foot eyes
and steel gray whiskers
which seem to speak of
reckless paths and risky
choices long since made
so today, in an autumn
rich with colors, music
and the heady cocktail
of experiences had
and dreams yet to manifest
that grace envelops me
and it tickles…