Best One Half Poems
One half is submerged in light,
the other in darkness.
Half says goodnight and the other
tugs the harness.
Kids climb backyard trees tinged
with school bus yellow.
As lovers play hide and seek
in the nighttime meadow.
Training wheels lay abandoned -
youthful eyes bear cornea confidence.
The silver spokes whistle through copper leaves -
once in a lifetime decadence.
August stars say their last farewell
in glorious beelines.
Whilst wrinkled fingers grasp the moon
in delicious daytime.
A woman dressed in white walks down the aisle -
her father proudly flaunts.
As a preacher recites Scripture at a funeral:
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want...
A newborn's laugh lights the whole world up
with effortless ease.
Whilst a pair of liver-spotted legs
unbuckles its knees.
One takes the first step -
the other reaches the end of the line.
One is a wealth of wisdom -
and the other is a gift divine.
Tiny toes to caress the sand,
ashes to sprinkle in the sea -
as if Nature itself has read aloud
Ecclesiastes Three.
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
Yum,
tasty!
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
Hold on
I am going to have a few more bites.
Okay,
no wait,
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
And/
aaaahhhhhhh,,
tasty^
tayysstee^
hahahahahahahahaha""
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
hahahahahahahahaha
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
hahahahahahahahaha
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
hahahahahahaha?haha
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
oh yeah+
fill the sheet)
hahahahahahahahaha
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
quesshun= Sex
easy!
ansir; yes- please)
hahahahahahahahaha
?why m i bein so polite
hahahahahahahahaha
queshun!
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
hahahahahahahahaha
i mean hungary
haahahahahah
h u n g r y
dere hungry>
hey look
brownies?
those look good
hahahahahahahahaha
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
hahahahahahahahaha
two bee contitnude
I watched a sunset
on the beach at the ocean
The sun touched the horizon
one quarter, one half
Bright, blazing red-orange clouds
Almost down; the sky now pink
Then it dawned on me
I was really observing
our mighty planet spinning
My mind blew gently
in the eternal present
the day I saw the earth move
*The rotation speed of the earth is 1038 mph at the equator
Careless whispers from sordid lips
Echo through the wooded landscape of hearts.
Destructive wants and needless needs,
Carried on the remnants of rust and bone,
Discarded amongst the fallen bridges,
Where once that precious garden grew—
Abundant petals with morning dew…
Oh how those poetic colours swirled
In the abstract minds of troubled youth,
With Silver tongue of rivers deep
And how that made the willows weep.
They wept in mournful sorrow first
Then blew light-heartedly in swift gay breeze,
Swaying merrily to gardener’s tune,
Reciting songs of lovers’ moon.
Drooping soon, one by one,
Neglect: naïve or playboy rule?
No willow’s death carved into stone
Sighs forgotten—another clone.
But each one knew they weren’t alone
With all decaying days that passed.
And thoughts of how the last was strewn:
Loved too quick, deceased by noon!
Empty melodies confined to ash
No garden path to lead them up,
The fickle gardener’s longing tales:
Seeking roses, endless fails.
Bitter stumps, now burnt and bare,
Fruitless end to nature’s womb,
Apocalyptic trails of dirt
Sporadic care and endless hurt.
Acidic rain to wash away
Polluted minds and drunken hearts,
A world once loved now fades to grey
Pastel night now charcoal day.
Neverland: a silly notion
Truth keeps blooms of love in motion,
A life of fantasy fulfilled
Though one of lies is one half lived.
Midnight Aurora
Rising
sprawled
amid the carcasses
of demons quelled
strewn
like soldiers slain
spent munitions
drained of all their fire
their bloodshed pooled
puddles
of watered down
egos and woes
glisten
in the morning light
as hangover destined
in reflection
one half dead
and addicted
vain plan to abstain
finds itself
shot down
again
8/3/2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
You have my voice that sings
My eye’s that love to see
My heart beating when it believes
My hand writing poetry of what should be
My steps walking boldly thinking of thee
My minds consumption of
vast amounts of time
My work that tries providing
Any attention that I can find
A victim of love
Happily and sadly am I
I am like Samson
Believing every lie
Being like Romeo
I’d surely die
What a substance is love
As reachable as the sky
With fears and rejection
That might cause my demise
My childish suffering
This disease called shy
Yet monotheistic my soul
Itself cries
Day after day this feeling
Will not die
Only one half of what
God says am I
Could you go with us,
My God and I
Could you put your hand under my thigh
Let me promise before I die
The climb of the mountian
That reaches your sky
If I could split myself in two
One half of me I'd give to you,
The other half I'd send away
To be with her like yesterday.
Though it sounds harsh, this I would do
If I could split myself in two.
If I could split myself in two
One half for her, one half for you.
The half for her would win her back
To heal my heart and mend the crack,
To fix me up, made good as new
If I could split myself in two.
If I could split myself in two
The other half would stay with you.
While one half fixes years of tears
The Half with you would have no fears,
Would be devoted, strong and true
If I could split myself in two.
But I am not two, I'm just one man
So I'll swear to love you all I can
If you will take me cracks and all,
Be there to lift me when I fall,
I'll dedicate my life to you
And no longer wish myself in two.
Who is my father?
That's one question I will never have the answer to.
My father abandoned me before I was even born.
Thankfully, my mother kept me,
when she easily could have given me up for abortion or adoption.
My mother is one half of me, but I was always curious
about the man who made up my other half.
I don't know where he lives, I don't know if he is alive or dead.
I don't have a picture of him, I don't even know his name.
I know nothing about my father.
Is he a doctor, is he a teacher, is he the mailman, is he my neighbor?
I often wondered, if I could have walked passed him on the street one day,
and never even known it.
We could have been standing next to each other, in line at the grocery store.
And, he wouldn't even know that I was his daughter.
I could have brothers and sisters out there somewhere.
Maybe I am not an only child.
I would like to see this man's face just once.
But, if he didn't love me enough, to abandon me,
maybe I should do the same thing to him.
Beauty, yes I have striven to be you, before hibiscus fades
Before the stars sprinkle night that covers ocean sunset
After the icicles thawed and swans inhabit the blue lagoon
We cannot know the perfect thing in our finite dust
The lesser never comprehend the object of lust
Beyond us bright, yet upon imaginations trust
Beauty, what are you? From what strange world you come? Tell me
O truth to know, unknown. You who make me love and not see
And yet know enough to pursue walking a thin sea
Yet still I believe that absolute beauty does exist
And I look for it to come out of stars or morning mist
Or out of bright imagination's tightly clenched fist
Every flower I love ever like a sunset fades
Every dream of old I cherish, like a leaf is marked for death
And sometimes at nights I only see one half the moon
What's so strange about it?
The way it curls like a baby or
The way it stands out on it's own
The way it swings when I walk or
The way it catches your stare when I talk
Natural roots, they spring into trees of knowledge
The offense you take, the regards you make and
Hassles I get when going state to state
It's like my whole life's at stake
Damn gimmie a break
(So) What's the big fuss about the Natural Lust
Rejection to European Beauty Standards is what I truly adore
We need more Natural sisters MORE MORE MORE
MY LOCKS IS NOT A STYLE, NEITHER A FAD, NOR IMPRESSION
MY LOCKS IS A WEAPON, IT HELPS ME FIGHT AGAINST OPPRESSION
I'm not afraid to show it and I'm not afraid to grow it
Information, dedication, and confirmation is wrapped up in my hair
which wraps around my crown-
So thick, So tough, So strong, So long
So Black and untrapped just my appearance is an attack
Come into job interviews with my image misconstrued, unculture myself
Just to fit what works for you
Cut my hair for what?? NO! Just Leave Me Alone
One half of one percent is still the wealth we own
So if I cut my hair off, what will the Black man own?
Waterfowler’s Delight
Clouded marshes masking what may come.
Suzy's boisterous invitation over yonder grass
Dark shadowed spreads set to entice some.
As the glow of the East begins to amass.
Newly anointed awaiting the first blessing.
Old dogs hoping the spark will catch fire.
Light of day upon the horizon pressing.
Nosing sweet dew upon the poignant mire.
Blue and grays approaching whiter shades.
Dark decoys amidst water hazed with hue.
Breaths of pink winds follow forecasted trades.
Nestling in, head up, taking in one last view.
Grasses, reeds, trees and limb begin their claps,
Rattling and brushing in a standing ovation.
Shedding nights tears, tapping coats and caps,
Encouraging shivers of warm tingling anticipation.
Night choruses blend with day’s percussion
Clicks and rasps of metal, wood and springs.
Last words, rules whispered in group discussion
Silenced by sudden whistling of cupped wings.
Glancing at time wishing the watch was there
Edging toward one half hour before this sunrise.
A single, lonely, echoing report from over there,
Waterfowler's delight, peeling eyes to the skies.
09/25/2017
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
Acciaccatura
And filled with stars and the land
A pale gentle hand turned the hourglass
Of my soul
Stalking the alabaster moon
I rejoined once more
Those who follow the dream
Cutting through crests
Time the scythe of a barque
Treads a song of brothers to sisters of paradise
The prow our ship a searching
Arch-ed carrying the whispered will
Of wishings an ambition to our hearts
Pursuing the alchemy of the moon
Leaping from the shoals
A single white rose this beacon to follow
The mariners we of her phantasmal
Blown by the hunger in blood and breath
Drifting in the calm thunder tethered to a single kiss
Full of stars and the land
A pale gentle hand turns the hourglass
Of my soul
The ghost in our throats calling
Seducing answers to the lamplet
Painted faces of splendour in her horizons distant
She softly sings us closer
Passage through the veils
Drawing on this our meandering ark
An endless ribbon of red flows behind
The vein of each passing quest
As this ship awash the glinting semblance of her face
I have chosen like my brothers, my sisters; to be the seafarer
To search her shadow
Pursue the alabaster moon
Her pale gentle hand
Filled with stars and the land
Turns the hourglass of my soul
Isis the light and by Dianna named
Magdalena’s rose of mystery proclaimed
The witchcraft of the feminine
Thus the sail-ed cutter of waves and dreams
Embarked
Billowed on clouds
The diamond sea we gather
Compass point to reflection
The full moon risen alabaster
Her pale gentle hand
Filled with stars and the land
Turned the hourglass of my soul
(Acciaccatura; An ornament note that is one half step or one whole step below a principal
note and is sounded at the same time as the principal note, adding dissonance to a
harmony. a note in a music deliberately played out of key )
Before there was a thing called "Man"
The Maker had a better plan.
He filled he sea with little fish
Of every kind that He might wish.
Then He made the dinosaur
To rule the land from shore to shore.
Next came the monks, orang-otan.
Gorillas, and an ape called "Man".
Man is half God, and beast one half.
He writes his own grim epitaph.
The Maker thinks, "Next time the plants?
Not yet, until I've tried the ants".
Hundreds of frenzied snakes
Slithering from her head
Looking at me
While her gaze wants
To turn me to stone
But I glance away
Knowing the damage
That can be caused
I met her
Dwelling in a cave
Unaware of most slang
But she endures
A painful existence.
This Medusa
A friend or fiend
You tell me
I need to know
But I will love her
Forever and a day
One half orange and one quarter lemon
Exchanging packages
Will be our right
True love
While romancing sunsets
Just remember
To avoid the gaze
When she’s beside herself
And all will be
Just fine