Best Parenthesis Poems
I keep your facial poses under lock
with myself as the only key
so I may live in your parenthesis.
You were a multilayered, solid color,
wishing to be a pattern of unique luster.
If a creek, you would have swollen,
if a cloud, you would have burst,
yet still, I thirst for you often.
You no longer weave me safe blankets
or shadow battle against my problems.
With constant ache I miss your blossom.
My pain cries for a permanent solving!
I live fondest imagining your punctuation
and often unlock, with a tear to hasten,
your gone phrasing for my joys encasing.
It is the perfect handedness of endless bliss
the cadence, embrace the double-mirroring kiss,
silence is the most notorious happiness parenthesis.
Even when the dual night vigil blew
All the stretched-out empty days reminded you
Of promises and tragedy that passion drew.
In the perfect kiss, we once knew.
But time has rendered a big part of this
their brilliance and space are in abruptness.
Death neither waits for happiness nor success.
Our separation passed on in the brief moments mist
Into the sad, fleeting, strange distance eclipse.
another starnge bliss paused here to gaze at this
less lonely existence parenthesis.
It's relatively a slow process.
A thought builds upon anticipation.
Thanks to the nostalgia ingrained by Disney.
Musically the songs are different.
Granted the press of a thumb.
Spotify, Pandora.
An assortment of different streams all profoundly deep.
Separately, the adaptation is the same.
Boy meets girl.
Eyes go on vacation.
Suddenly we're dressed in leisure.
Beautiful sights ingested by the brochures of a hotel lobby.
Just yesterday none of this seemed possible.
Everything crowed into the bends of a folded booklet.
Lost in the sensation of influential taste.
This was my outlook.
A yesterday morning spent in the hotel lobby of my own interest.
I am in sense booking my own fear.
This slow process that begins it's advance.
A millennium that begins a couple seconds past twelve.
She was the art visually spread across the brochure.
With arms wide open I fell in.
Speeding up this process ever slightly.
I still a consumer at best.
Her being the best vacation I ever been.
I am in sense booking my own fear.
Her love.
Further more exploring the secret of her parenthesis
Repeating doubts
Squashed between
Brackets in my
Head; they clog
The free-flow!
Freedom to let
My mind wander
To and fro,
Like it does
When I'm happy!
(Do not allow yourself to be parenthesized
The print of your baby finger spills over the edges
Of those brackets.
You should never be an afterthought,
A clause he can delete.
Your hands fill paragraphs
The life lines and love lines
Stitch together the pages of the book
That is your body.
The stu
Stu
Stutter trapped between your lips
When you try to say his name
Builds the steps
In the library that is your soul
The blush of your cheeks fills windows with light
And you should never let him tell you otherwise.)
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
and twittering left par wren
dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
corrective punctuation measure
slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
for so many yen,
thus see slipped thru my excellent
proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe
(though a bit fishy),
could be found necessitating cauldron
only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
aye didst make whoosh,
hence, went there and came back
and frankly tubby earnest,
thence began stir'n
a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
Hannibal the cannibal
asper what to do
in order (I explained)
to sever livingsocial,
and forever hang my head in shame
cuz, accidentally omitting
one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
(sans error free grammarian
reputation pitched downward
where careless evinced
Kamikaze nosedive, where
matter of fact gross humiliation
instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
compunction viz, grievously
blatant Anglo Saxon
Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
incorrigible, and unforgivable
literary faux pas incurring
major cosmic event
stripped of title special
Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.
oh, how i wish i could write
like the wonderfully weird e.e. cummings
but the right words somehow escape me
left only with personal shortcomings
it’s clear, i’m no Shakespeare,
Keats, Poe, or Byron
though heed my many utterances
as the call of the prating siren
so let the verses flow
not only with gestured speech
but with sentiment shown
to all that my words may reach
a simple tale of a forgotten adoration
and missing someone so dear--
sadness and longing just to find
a tangible reason to remain here
let the memories come flooding back
like a pint-up raging stream
trying to make sense of my agony
and all that we see or seem
is it wrong to find
comfort in pain
awake forever in a sweet unrest
can a sorrowful heart ever truly gain
let the words be written
and never again fear
that thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive
all those who find beauty in drear
although the torment and anguish
may never fully cease
a lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound,
one day, the heart will find its inner peace
and in the end, amid the truth
when your soul feels used up and small
never forget the moments when
love is the whole and more than all
*I wrote this poem on April 16, 2021, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ challenge. This was day 16 and the prompt was: Read 3 poems by the same poet then write a poem in a similar style. I read three random poems by e.e. cummings and while I didn’t mimic his unique style, I did write an offbeat ode to him and a few others the best way I knew how.
Dresden, it is said, was bombed to an ashen landscape,
A giant burned out match head. Explodable no more.
Small Dresdens found along our driveway no longer smell of sulphur
But remind me of Father lighting cigarettes.
My father, nicotine addicted,
Member of the greatest generation,
That saved the world from Hitler and "El Duche"
Who addressed the fascist crowds from balconies
We shake rugs from
All across a peaceful Midwest now.
Nurses used to pass out Camel packs
To steady nerves of soldiers switching trains
As they waited at stations,
Sergeants said, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em"
To put stiff soldiers all at ease.
Among foxhole faithful, it was thought
Unlucky to be third man on a match.
The first to gain attention, the second to sight how far away
The third is shot between cupped hands
That shield against the wind.
Echoes of her laughter
(they’re sounding in my heart)
Thinking she is with me
(I wake with a start)
Silence and without her
(I search inside the room)
Within my heart however
(just darkness and the gloom)
Embracing her was sweetness
(loving her was divine)
Together we can make it
(I am hers and she is mine)
I love this beautiful woman
(who keeps my soul in tune)
She is a very special girl
(we’ll be together soon.)
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)