Best Inspired By Poems
If 2012 prophesies prove true
And Earth’s life cycles again renew
Mysteries of man will be more than a few
Challenges may await future life forms
With intellects far surpassing our norm
Created to live without doing harm
For if they decipher man’s history
What will they make of our great mystery
The one we refer to as bigotry
Black labs, gold retrievers live side by side
Wild stallions and mustangs on prairies ride
Both red ants and black, free to colonize
Man’s refusal to accept differences
To wiser beings may make no sense
What in man’s makeup can give it credence?
Earth’s subsequent creatures may reproduce
Not needing two sexes to call a truce
So mating rituals may be pursued
A single-sex species might not comprehend
Why women workers were paid less than men
And why “free speech” was not just a given
Questions would most certainly arise
How a believer in God denies
Rights to free worship without compromise
And how could so many wars be waged
Evoking God’s name in death-march crusades
With killing, torturing in every age
Indeed such mysteries in man’s history
Would leave a perplexing legacy
Sure to confound any new species
New cultures may thrive on diversity
Of religion and genealogy
And speak of our inferiority
Note: This is dedicated to Christopher Higgins whose poems about prejudice inspire readers
to do more than just think about one of the greatest ills in our society.
You can probably tell I've always been inspired by Slim Shady
By the way I rhyme words and the fact my pen's crazy
I'm the equivalent to Jason Voorhees listening to the Marshall Mathers LP with a pen in his hand instead of a Machete
This is a horror movie on paper and I don't think you're ready
You want to dress it up, well I'll jump out of your fashion catalogue
I'm happy to stand out, forget hiding I don't need camouflage
I got in my own way too many times before and I used to self sabotage
No more though, you may want to duck and hide when I let my pen's ammo discharge
I'm a one man army,bring your whole battle squad
You should know by the way I put words together that I'm a scrabble god
Should I rhyme simpler and dumb it down because these days the dumbest people and ideas get the biggest views
This generation need things simple, and handed to them, they don't want to look for hidden jewels
These days people get everything Misconstrued
Kids today seem to think the best rapper is the richest dude
I don't care about a Kardashian or an Amber Rose or who is kissing who
my dad left me with issues and fears of abandonment
I just want to wake up to my dream girl wearing my shirt and making me sandwiches
Have her look at me like I'm the first drop of rain after a drought
Forget the past and future, I'd rather just focus on the matters of now
tell Cupid if he shoots me again to make it Demi Lovato
I wouldn't say it to his face but Brock Lesnar looks like Johnny Bravo
People throw shots these days and they're barely Vodka
My pen is a magic wand that makes me poetry's Harry Potter
Some won't like that I'm bringing rap style punchlines to poetry
but even when I'm writing for fun and joking I still speak openly
Unsure if I had writers block or if I've been lazy
But I'm back now and my pen's crazy
You can all probably tell by the way I rhyme that I've been inspired by Slim Shady
Rays of sunlight awaken and skies of sapphire inspire, when mother lies back with eyes veiled, breathing out life and breathing in spirit. She is the fertile earth and boundless sky. She glides through eternity, rising and falling. Her hair, once the color of midnight, now shines silver like beams from the full moon, and the stars encircling her, illuminate creation, igniting dreams and enchanting sleepless nights. As we, who no longer walk barefoot upon the earth, busy ourselves, forgetting to lift our eyes in witness to her majesty and her beauty and her grace. Our hearts still beat in unison with her essence. Beneath the stars, we walk upon the same dusty earth as our ancestors. The sky rumbles all around us with echoes of the past, and in stillness, she feels the knees of the forgotten pressed against her chest giving thanks for her nurturing breath.
spirits veil her eyes -
drifting through sapphire sky
constellations align
*Haibun form inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet’s Gaia
(for Debbie Guzzi’s Free Verse, Prose, Haibun Contest, 11/1/2014)
I encountered her on a dark stormy night
Her huge trout like lips were a scary sight
Strands of white spittle formed on angry lips
huge folds of fat spilled over her wobbly hips
With scaly grey skin and blood red eyes
and legs so fat they chafed her thighs
Hair tangled and matted like limp seaweed
She reeked like a fish of an ancient breed
Reaching out for me with her claw like nails
Slime dripped from her hands like rancid snails
I tossed her a coin and hurried on my way
She’s not been seen since that stormy day
03-28~17
You woke at the stroke of midnight
Brain buzzing, "You simply MUST write!
You are filled with desire
Your muse is on fire
Creativity, you should never fight!
Each poem’s been penned by yourself
Not stolen off a high bookshelf
And you know PS rules
(Ignore all the blog fools)
And always be true to thyself
You’ve written ten poems ~ hooray!
In journals your work should not stay
So post ten poems on soup
It may inspire our group
Keep posting and do it YOUR way!"
Quiet, pensive, waiting, from out of nothing, a flash, dancing!
Back and fourth, faster, bolder, more beautiful, more radiant…
The sound envelops, and the beauty firmly wraps its hands around my ears…
Relevance and resounding, growing, pulsing, whipped into a fever!
And then easing back just a bit, like a rest to enjoy some perfect nectar of echoes.
Then back again to churn, not with blades, but with brushstrokes.
The pulsing art grabs my soul and I sway to the rhythm, the life, the light…
All around me, so necessary is this, something so pure and powerful.
Flex and twirl in the rays of sunshine, on coming the clouds and thunder!
Pounding out the feeling, the pace is relentless, but in my arms, pushing, harder!
Squeezing ever ounce of love from the air, the earth, the fire and then easing again.
Dripping with sweat, a deep breath, another, still moving but slower now.
More deliberate, but still full and open, slowly, gently, slightly and then quiet.
In lovely riddles you speak of Goddesses,
those held above the world.
For each of us I feel you would find a way,
to bring us back a star.
Glowing bright,
you would pass that orb into our gentle hands,
to grow as children would
above the falty of man.
You speak in lovely riddles
and forget to include yourself,
for if we are such Goddesses,
you must be a God yourself.
In ode to all who succumb
through wayward passages
lined of scribble notes
dripping ink’s savagery,
staining cursive patterns
in Sylvia-like depressions
Jarred bells ring
down lost tunnels
around each dark corner…clang
from steeples we chase
and beds we lie
draped in sadness
and shapes of
poetic happenstance
Tear drop vinaigrette
spiced of leftover lifetimes
drizzled on leafy desperation
bids a tired farewell
before time collects
the deserved rewards
emptying of the mind into the ether
contained reverberations
sent suddenly skywards
firmly rejected by gravity
bounce back for the haunting
we live on with the fallout
truth ruins the illusion of necessity
spittle ruins the illusion of beauty
you can't rewrite ripples caused by history
only bury the dead on loop
then repeat the mantra of moving on
there is beauty still
in the bright light before nothing
that lingers on the retina
becoming layers
light that needs slivers of insanity
to fill the gaps
but gaps to separate the insanity
nothing is new
as evidenced by what is etched in stone
coffee cup stains
create self made crowns
in those faraway hideouts
the uncut planners
never lose a drop
or burn their tongue
their hum murmurs on
in the perfect world they build
everyone else gives their all
to fulfil whatever dream
they need to be sold
in the inner workings of every dome
rest the chorus of lives that built it
silently watching on
mouths agape
bridges shatter between downcast eyes
everything wriggles
finds its way
once again to a finish line
for a fresh wave
as inevitable as the first
in this thirst for glory
in every direction lay the fallen
leaving spaces
for the glorious mourners
to preach their refrains
eventually no fight or song will be left
only moistened air descending
kissing your cheek
light and sound fade
atop mountains
thoughts of mortality are shushed
legacy leaving its mark
to echo into a final slowed motion silence
I dreamt it in stone
whilst I softly slept
unhurried thoughts
as others wept
exist as one
that is the dream
but the dream is undone
kneeling and wretched
prostrate on the ground
serene and believing
salvation found
by the light of the moon
it's possible to see
the most favoured
most becoming
version of me
I've taken up space
fashioned as ornate
with no way to speak
as a protected state
but thoughts run rife
impossible to still
what bodies can't encapsulate
within the shape that they fill
my bones tell a story
my mind doesn't understand
I agreed wholeheartedly
as horizons are scanned
let me be enveloped by the sandman
lost in a faraway stare
just outside of time
perhaps my purpose lies there
shun the encroachment of the dark
focus intently at the task at hand
blinded to peripheral vision
wriggle free of your silhouette
present beyond the corner
circles encompass
captured by crescents
spinning in their circular hold
neither freedom nor imprisonment will ride
reality is just the ache of the dream
the muddled yell & yawn
every emotion a mere numbing agent
sometimes, I think I peeled away the relief
but the block forms are pattern upon pattern
and I'm a diminishing darkness
at the approach of dusk.
mid song ~
yet almost lost to longing
methods of the mundane
soothe no more
distance holds my gaze
in ways that purge time
but not infatuation
the intricacy of binding spells compels
steals me back
to last gasps
of ecstasy
shimmers of tears clash
with murmurs still embedded in stone
lapping waters draw me under
until it is I that is too weak of will
within your embrace
I should expire
entranced completely by desire
no lapsing thoughts
nor dread in swathes
a mystery scaled
in a myriad of ways
woken up and ushered in
retrieved from perpetuality of sin
by moving earth
and crashing wave
transfixed eternal
by all the ways you save
from the conch
whispers come
dissect
distract
blow upon
scintilla branch to intrinsic thought
weighed down
consumed
overwrought
mattering - so magnified
that I can't turn away my eyes
reach for able hand to soothe
what dread could deed undo, disprove
kisses stolen
by long lost words
explored lactic fallacies
become absurd
til endings are not the body expired
but exposure of every cell and every wire
cathartic grip held in awe
control depletes as hem and haw
til sadly swings
and bridges to shame
call time
I must
on the lugubrious game
Entering contests isn’t a race
First past the post may not get a place
Don’t make it a mission
To get first position …
Attacking sponsors is a disgrace
Written after reading F J Thomas's blog AFTERAFFECTS OF HOSTING A CONTEST
30th May 2015
Dirty old man
In the mood …
She's feelin hot hot hot
fancy a quickie?
Cross dressing
Lingerie
We should have seen the signs
What can go wrong when wearing a thong
Long and hard
What a whopper
Naked
Ecstasy
Wet dreams
moan moan moan
Hold on darling - I'm coming
This time YOU didn’t come second
Tell me why!
I was finding titles for Laura Loo’s contest and these are all original titles from some of my old poems…. I do worry about my muse!!
06-10-17