Best Mote Poems

A mote of dust travels through the air
blown this way and that across the lands.
Finally after many miles it is entrapped
in a rocky crevasse where it joins others.

In time the wind blows in many more motes
and something wondrous starts happening.
These motes give birth to little...

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Knowing that this must be done
I head out in the dark of night
Knowing none will have their fun
Nor will they have any delight.

I call upon Spirits of the Earth.
Air, Fire, Water, Earth, Spirit,
I beg of them to consider my worth
I hope that my plea they...

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I sent these inner tears out,
to the Heavens above,
and the Earth below.
Let my sorrows flee with the wind
and bring me happiness once again.
I wish for a Love,
that no longer exists,
too afraid to open old wounds yet again.
So I ask, 
quietly plea,
that the Powers that Be,
set...

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Quasi Mote - Oh Ephemeral Transit Across Proto Zones!

Strictly speculation from this mind,
who contemplates stripped down version
bajillion eons ago
cosmic bit sized dots
pinwheeled thru spatial void

repulsed and/or attracted
colluding (putin on the Ritz)
infinitesimal show stopper
devoid of prior rehearsal
since previous cosmic contraction

absent remembrance
tabula rasa, viz consciousness
if rebooted, reincarnated,
repurposed,...

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Aromatic alleviation that you need; 
the secret to having anything succeed? 
A blanket fort and peppermint pillow mote;

Sea of calm spiked with crimson passion;
If you get high on imagination? 
That’s the turnkey to get inside; 

I dare you to try and break the fire wall
if...

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It’s sad to see a foreclosed soul 
Stacked in white sheets rising
Or elephants that die a “noble death”
To hear the passing sirens 
That dare disturb our sleep 
Give us pause to wonder 
Whose last breath.

The plot we’re given 
Slow or fast unravels
Lunatics in fringe worn...

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A good mote,
something to imagine upon 
with sin in mind.
Near strangers in the same office,
clothed only by levels and walls.

From two floors up
she let her dark hair down.
Hour after hour 
he running fingers through strands,
twisting ropes of sensuality.

A married mote,
a thought made flesh
that grew too...

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She appears nursing a child.
Her body leaks into my mind
on a busy street.
Desire nurses the imagined
into secrecy.
A dark bed hides dark hungers.

One small image
attached to her attractive form speaks.
It leans over her arm...

“If you keep breathing life
into a lust,” it says,
“desire grows a plasmid body.”

I...

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She appears again
nursing a child.

Her body once leaked into my mind
as we passed on a street.

desires nurse children
imagined into secret.

One small image 
can speak like an adult.
It leans over her arm.

“If you keep breathing life
into a lust,” it says,
“it grows, a plasmid body.”

I remember her...

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Soft motion on a moon swing,
big wishes waltz slow dancing.
The skyline starts romancing 
with a glow that’s trumpeting.
Constellations glow and ping 
like a young prince whispering 
‘Let us make music all night.
The air is tight and pulsing.’

As shooting stars create trails,
all that surrounds you just...

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Cry me a River
		By Charles Gerald Patrick Chard 2nd
		Chevra Gavri Hanita Hazaka Abir Selek 2nd  

I feel like crying in this mote,
Will it ever stop raining its wet cloak? 
Enough is enough let the sun shine through,
Why must the rain make me feel so...

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