Best Outgrowth Poems
My childhood elm of outgrowth stout
Nourished His formative buds about
While holding me during youthful sprout
Yet far I fell from Him.
For thoughtless Time forgives forgot
He waited for his puerile tot
My seasons passed far from his plot
And further I fell from Him.
Upon my adolescent spark
He let me stab his bleeding bark
With foolish whim, a lover’s mark
Still further I fell from Him.
While seasons passed with nature’s grace
And changed the lines upon my face
He kept my sacred vernal place
Still further I fell from Him.
Soon I was met with fortune’s snide
And chilling winter did preside
His thickened limbs He did provide
Still further I fell from Him.
When life bestowed my last defeat
For years of folly and conceit
My eyes beheld His sad retreat
How far I fell from Him!
That tree that held my girlish jump
And greenery once rich and plump
Was now a sickly blackened stump
How far I fell from Him!
I wept upon His tattered rings
For all the comfort He did bring
Throughout my vain and endless sting
I'd not ascend to Him!
Somehow He felt my tears abreast
And cleansed the faults I had possessed
He offered me His stump for rest
I did ascend to Him.
I'm looking at your shadow
It is cast bigger than what is your truth
The curve of your breasts accentuated,
your contour smooth as it gently glides down towards your hips,
rounding your buttocks to perfect proportions and your thighs just right.
Your calves perfect as they wind down to your dainty feet.
What it doesn't show is that your lower lip
slightly larger than the upper,
when coaxed, parts to reveal an endearing tooth gap
trademarking your smile...
The striations on your breasts and abdomen
from where you nurtured your baby
even before its first breath of life,
to a perfect being of reasoning and effort.
The slight outgrowth on your big toe
passed down from generation to generation,
brought forth and as your predecessors
toiled and tilled the soil that now claims you.
It is a shame indeed, that it does not show your eyes,
deep set and cast like smooth, molten chocolate and just as soft.
Bejeweled with a spark of curiosity and quirkiness completely your own
As your thick lashes fan out of your skin,
often trapping tears that represent your big heart
Why hide in your perfect shadow ,when imperfections reveal the beauty of a life uniquely yours?
Claim it, own it, Live it...
Seems like we've all become
A nation of ruddy pill poppers
A pill for this, a pill for that
Even sex, now that's the topper
How did it finally come to this?
The doctors are making a killing
Prescribing a pill for a hang nail
And patients are only willing
Always trusted, the family doctor
Upstanding pillar of society
That was then, this is now
Seems like a lack of propriety
The code of ethics that used to be
Are forthwith being ignored
In favour of that almighty dollar
An outgrowth we can ill afford
Old rules have been abandoned
It's all about the bottom line
Say bye bye to professional ethics
From another place and time
© Jack Ellison 2013
Emery
Emery had a nose of stone,
An outgrowth of his weighted mind.
Of alabaster was it honed
Into a feature aquiline.
Its heft was such that Emery
Would counterbalance with his jaw
By upward thrust of chin; thus he
Intended to reduce this flaw.
But, oh, his lips contorted and
His limited perception showed
Only a level, skyward span
And never anything below.
Many men were victimized
And many things they valued, too,
Because poor Emery was blind
To that which was not in his view.
The morning of one winter’s day
He walked a promontory ridge.
Poor Emery saw not the way
But fell. It was the last of him.
Beneath blossoming, neat rows
Spring thoughtfully seeds
Once inchoate, now transformed
Were they visible, naked.
Coaxed or neglected
Into more important things --
Their outgrowth substantial
And beating, alive.
A pounding or downpour,
The influence prized
Insomuch as it aided
Propagation. Spread.
The seeds, so once tiny,
Their outgrowths majestic.
A flowering of ideas
Sprout from little, buried thoughts.
You get on your knees
To try getting at them.
You think that their sources
Matter most, hold the souls?
And as you dig deeper
You murder my flora
And leave me a bed
Of deadness and dirt.
You're killing my garden!
Yet a death temporary:
There are plenty of seed packs
For purchase and taking.
I witness their death
Until nothing's left dying.
You expire malnourished --
Then shall I begin.
i spot a shooting star
you spot it too
and for the first time
we are glaring at different skies.
Are springs’ eyes green like growing grass or blue like the sky?
The tears of spring are like nests to which returning geese will fly
Or nests of eagles that soar up high
Spring is the mother forever young and will never die
For even if spring is gone one day
Next year it will come this way
With growing grass and song of blue jay
And peregrine falcon chasing his prey
Cosmic spring is time of great growth
Where awesome power of life comes forth
Where quantum vortex of math and biology comes close and with it troth
Of better life and spiritual outgrowth
The huge ramifying willow is the center piece
In the nearby hemp wind whispers story of the force vortex is about to release
The eyes of spring shed tears which volume of water increase
As spring with vortex, tears, flowers and sun will paint its masterpiece
With growing soul interlinked majesty
Far beyond infinity
Places which only the holy falcon can see
Not only our destination but our destiny
How ancient be the mystic Rose
the present me,a rite of passage
tucked between the written prose
rising spirit within' the masses
Metaphoric our fragrant flower
meteoric rise to power
attitude of love project
knowledge lost to those inept
Enmeshed in flesh,the physical
the stem which leads to spiritual
the eye of all atop the spinal
budding bloom our Godly mental
Understanding,key for many
outer self are thorns unsteady
negative action hurtful deem
retaliate of hate foreseen
Life could be a bed of Rose
if in our mind,our mental pose
without the thorny outgrowth,fear
within' is love to cherish dear.........
just moments ago, i went online and tapped Google
if some miraculous spell
could be drawn out of thin air
cause (this house husband
feels a bit embarrassed to divulge),
but at present,
the will to live aye cannot bear
cuz after an ample lather of soap and shampoo,
ah pronounced heady effect became immediately clear
where times gone by
(even as late as early January
tooth how sand and eighteen),
the strands clumped, glommed, and matted together
as sieve ma noggin got sat upon by a deer
no matter after shaking head banging fashion
(imagine rock stars of yore
whipping their wild locks) from ear to e'er
butta noah such dizzy inducing antics
resulted in absolutely no fluffiness,
hence my worse fear
(irrational?) yes, an obsession i.e.
thy hirsute outgrowth fixation dated back
tummy boyhood when cranky gear
and defective cogs somehow impacted
preoccupation concerning
every singular follicle fostering hair
strand, but during prepubescence,
this now grown man took a fancy
to this, that, or the other lad,
who sported a style envied yours truly,
hie wished said thatch tubby upon mine
ma lil oblate spheroid,
and pleaded (weathered and in vane)
with fate to make magically ap pear
this, tis minuscule wiggle room
to muster support from rear
guard, hook offer me wiggle room
asthma body electric goes on a manic tear
precious seconds ticking closer
to the final count down where
this mwm might remain bed ridden
for an entire year.
Damn, that face looks oddly familiar though a bit
Enigmatic too, somehow I cannot seem to nail it
Just where I met her, maybe in school or in some
Arty hangout, or perhaps way back during a prom.
Vaguely recognizable yet, mysteriously intriguing,
Unless she is an outgrowth of my wild imagining.
Standing naked ,
free from the trapping's of this world
that at one time was self defining
in the glory of the love of God
feeling the presence of divine love
such an exihlaration of a moment shining
Chiseled with patience in time
molded perfection sublime
as Michelangelo's " David "
greatness.....in silent elation
Strength of love unswerving
Faith in love unabated
Hope for love unchallenged
Knowledge with love unquestioned
Yea , as I stand before you in self-less pride
the holiest of holy forever inside
will be my true guide , my true define
Love , alway's love ,
alway's love eachother
The true source of life is love
to live without love is to exist
a mere existence , becomes ,
a mirrored resistence
the thorny outgrowth of conflict and fear
until the light of understanding
may grace your budding rose's share
So , as I stand naked to the world
the sweet fragrance of love
will continue to permeate........
As song's come alive
expanding my mind
.........flows to my feet
where I begin dancing with time
Personal space filled
outgrowth is real
sharing my notes
for others to feel
Push forward these feet
as I pound these streets
overflowing satisfaction
for all I greet.....
It's only a moment
a blink of an eye
focus lens shutters
'cause in a blur passes by
Peripheral vision
absorbing light
coloring images
most beautiful sights.....
It seems some are smitten
with long-fingered gloves,
while others have love
for warm woolen mittens.
Like puppies and kittens,
cute gifts from above,
you’ll give ‘em a shove
when fingers get bitten.
A gloved finger’s fat,
not very precise.
Ungloved? Bad advice ~
frost bites like a cat!
But a mitten’s a club,
a stump of a hand,
a digit remand,
a prehensile nub.
No, I say what’s finer,
much better than both,
A techno-outgrowth:
thermal silk glove liners!
The gloves can get peeled;
those mittens can too.
Fingers don’t turn blue
with liners as shields.
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for the Of What Use Are Gloves Poetry Contest
sponsored by John Lawless
written on 12/19/22
Outbreak of tuberculosis
Out and out ridiculousness
Outcomers who refuse inoculations
Outgrowth of a new pandemic
Outlandish selfishness and self-importance
Outrageous and intolerable
Outside of common sense
Outstandingly self-absorbed and neglectful
This wooded throng of ancient trees,
this green palisade of arboreal memories
bid me dream with them,
as I pass among there overarching spreads.
If a mindful muse, were imagined,
under a green canopy such as these,
from my thoughts, all manner
of myths and legends would flourish,
and none would seem unreal,
but just the natural outgrowth of a wisdom
that these green and forested giants
impart to the roots of being.