Best Parts Poems
Through frayed seams a rosy dream bleeds
needled and re-stitched
with threads of time and love and hope..
and still — a rosy dream bleeds
the miscarriage of a promised rose garden
leaving me bereft but for entwined bands of gold –
contemplative thorns tempt my angst
moony moody barbs bristle twigs of tenderness
sigh— it’s not a laurel wreath worn atop my brow
as I sit alone with a squeamish friend
my blue-sky-to-storm-cloud introspection —
as your distant eyes deserted mine long ago
Winter's beast laid bare a cerebral graveyard
lost you wander amongst laid-to-rest neurons
worn headstones of thoughts and laughter and memories…
you wonder why they hide — why they died
the crackle of cognitive circuitry quiets
branched-lightning fades from unwitting clouds
and aged roots of reality perish
our red rose finished fallen to pieces
you-and-me-petals a messy heap like old potpourri —
yet in dark’s hush love’s scent lingers on our dream pillow
Oh nostalgic sepals embrace me!
my heart yearns to return to the bud
to the fullness of our June bloom —
instead, I bury desires beneath life’s litterfall;
amid pollenless stamens and leaves of one-sided reveries
and cage my fear my despair behind purple thistle facing the light
as I free a smile for you, my love —
you my sun that still parts the rain-bearing nimbus
Part One.
A silent yawn, the moon awakes.
Compels its patron planet's shape.
As oceans shift by its command
And with its might recasts the land.
Below the lunar rings of mist,
A strip of cloud, a stolen kiss.
The harvest yields a poet's line
on hay-rides of forgotten rhyme.
Part Two.
While far beneath the grain we reap,
Magnetic powers guard our sleep;
But in this source protecting Earth,
It warps the minds of some at birth
A missing foresight of control,
Malignant thoughts that urge, cajole.
Your moonlit steps they wait to hear;
A twisted grin, as you grow near.
Iambic Tetrameter / Cateletic.
Rhyme / AA-BB
Gene Bourne
02-02-14
.
Im a little out of tune
Im havin trouble inside
Cant explain the chayos
that I feel tonight
Everythings a mess
I can barely breathe
And your wonderin wonderin
When I stopped bein me
I couldnt tell you the truth
I couldnt lie to you
Im a little out of control
I swear Its not my fault
I try and I try
But nothin seems to work
Gotta break me down
Gotta take away this diesese
Its like im addicted
To the worst parts of me
And inside I am filled to the brim
No one can see how hurt I am
So confused by all these things
So abused by my own creating
Somethings wrong inside my head
and I feel, I feel, almost dead.
---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
now and again
a word
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name
suddenly
apropos adverbs appear
clearly
startling
perplexing
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped
within prison walls
synonyms
pen bars
filled in the past
participles
plagued
like Job's tedious job
of siphoning
deciphering
homographs from heteronyms
words never mind...
they wind the mind
gliding
in the wind...
I.
End-Cut Prime Rib of Beef,
Crab-cake, Lobster Tail,
Sea Scallops.
I feel — no — need to,
eat those foods
you asked I get you.
So I scour the internet
for upscale Manhattan
restaurant menus, listing,
first and foremost,
roast prime rib of beef,
confident, if I find that,
the seafood items
will appear on at least one
of them, also.
It’s the Post House,
on East 63rd Street,
that has everything.
And, on this day,
the 1st anniversary
of your death,
I’m eating the foods
you craved, yet, I do not
savor a morsel. But
not to worry, Renee,
for next year, same
date, I’ll try again, and
maybe, just maybe,
I’ll find it easier to enjoy
what you surely would have,
if only I’d realized there was
no time left. No time left,
as I held your hand and
watched American Idol.
while you morphed into what-
ever it is one becomes
at death.
II.
I muse if Robert Frost
had taken the other road,
would he have moved to
England, where
his poetry was a hit
from the get-go;
would he have remained,
the constant farmer, or
teacher, or journalist
he been, rather than
the bard who'd crafted
the simplest words
into mysterious,
memorable poems;
and the father who
couldn’t prevent
his children’s deaths;
not the husband
who couldn’t keep
his wife from sinking
deep into depression.
Renee, every day, since
your death, I think about
what I could’ve done
and should not have done
as your sister, your twin.
How I’d sat on my laurels
and let you navigate
on your own, with me
never wholeheartedly
trying to steer away
from conflict with you.
Me, who found it too hard
staying involved in that life
of yours. Truth be told,
if I'd seen two diverging roads
to choose from, way back when
— neither the worse for wear,
I would’ve sought you out —
asked you which one you’d take
if you were me, and surely
I’d have taken the other.
part 1
We bend low under over-hanging branches
lit by reflected river-light gently shifting.
Our boots suck the muddy bank.
We wade into clear water
the dappled up-light playing
on our serious faces.
Intent on our task
hands plunge.
Cold-shocked I gasp.
You hold your jar steady.
I scoop mine.
Triumphant in a shower of icy prisms
we hold our prizes aloft,
laughing and shouting,
water streaming down our arms,
jars teeming with tadpoles.
Faces pressed close
to these underwater worlds,
we stand transfixed.
Each reflects a small disc
of sparkling sky.
part 2
April trees rake scudding clouds.
Far away farm dogs bark
at wind-snatched shouts
of bird-nesting boys.
Somewhere, a cuckoo calls.
In the back garden
a blackbird stakes out his territory.
Ignoring him the cat purrs,
yawning in the sun.
While unnoticed
on the garden table
beside a upturned jar,
a sprinkling
of flattened tadpoles
commas
drying in the sun.
The bored cat
saunters by,
her tail held high
in the shape
of a question mark.
Some parts of this city I should not go
too few streetlamps dampened, wobbly wet walls.
These are those parts that one ought not to know
perfect settings where dark danger befalls.
My mind has morphed the city I knew
quickens my pace from sly shadows behind.
Now meeting people who I stare straight through
turning corners to streets I cannot find.
Not belonging here only feeds my fear
searching for a near nook, safe place to be.
Far from silent steps behind me I hear
striving eyes dart, hoping no one shall see.
Tell me why, did I, venture out this day
prime pulses pounding, one hastens away.
Colored Pencil Illustration by G. Gaul
8/26/21
PARTS AND COUNTERPARTS
scrawled on the blackboard jungle, a mural
of profanity – pronouncing women’s names,
their parts and counterparts. reality creeps
from the verminous city streets. the mundanity of
laying out private jewels as a juxtaposition,
where silk and careful hands of morality are much kinder
and richer. but humanity takes hold of a fair lady’s dress,
tearing it off, shredding the human form to pieces,
leaving it drowning, cut off, creating the volcanity of a whore.
of this insanity is born the fatality of our newborn, with
no need for formality. the brutality of drug dealers and
youth molesters pulls the innocents down into the sewers.
they sense, they know, something is not right, but their fingers
slip, their feet cannot grip the slimy pit that drags them down
down
down
no one hears their cries for help. smoke like fog swirls around
their sacrificial heads. their eyes bleed with blue breaths.
the inanity and anonymity of their broken lives unbearable.
the mentality of cobblestone above their shattered roof, flowing
with the vitality of gold, silver and diamond luxury. a boy, a girl
can hear the click of red heels, the laughter of freedom, just out of reach.
he screams, “no, come back!”
she screams, “someone hear my cries, before i die!”
urbanity, so at ease. no one sneeze. no address of poor kindling tied
to the monster’s altar, where malicious eyes and tongues squeeze out laughter.
1/23/2017
Silent One’s Word Challenge Contest
There was once an old salt named Abel
With replacement parts to enable
When he died they made good
Of the left-over wood
Enough for three chairs and a table
19 May 2919
Syllable count: 99669
First day incognito,
called my yesterday boss
On a new burner cell,
with a free burrito ad promo toss
Told her this was my courtesy job
severance quitting HR call —
Advance notice: Fourteen
minutes minus two sabbath days
Said it was time to turn the knob
behind the picture on the wall
Stock options jackpot scene,
no more running the office maze
The rat race lost a cool-lio cat driver,
with the low-rider diamond in the back
Stress camel straw got balloon lighter,
Oz always knows the right time to pack
When you hear the pure velvety Jarreau voice,
and the jazzy trombone dulcet ringtone
I’m already making some high-altitude noise,
heading for destination: parts unknown
This is the last message on this phone,
I’m blue skies sailing to parts unknown
Hello again ex-boss, how have things been shaking,
since I air dropped the transporter Houdini news
Scottie, my fearless pygmy pilot,
beamed me to the edge of the no-satellite zone
Last I heard, there’s a boom in pioneer risk-taking,
but everybody ain’t got the feet size to fit the shoes
It gotta be you, can’t replicate it ...
corporate clones desk chained, they can't roam
I’m free to travel to destination: parts unknown
Moving thru areas where there’s no signal for pho ...
Part One: I Love
The eagle as it flies far above restless
fields of golden wheat and stagnant marsh bottoms
where mice and rabbits inhabit ancient cress,
living small and unaware now in autumn's
warning chill of season's soon coming winter~
but the eagle knows coming snow will splinter
nature into those who have and who have not,
and only wisdom will see what spring has wrought.
Part Two: I Hate
The cold wind as it winnows its spiteful way
across tall mountain peaks into the valley
where colorful summer flowers once did play,
enticing bees to a pollen-filled galley ~
now flowers are dead and the bees have withdrawn
to hide from the cold in their houses of brawn
while beautiful flakes become old snow piled deep,
and nature has burrowed for long winter's sleep.
Inside of us
We all have our thoughts inside of our heads
And a heart that lies there beneath our breast
A pair of lungs so we breathe in and out
A tongue to talk with inside of our mouth.
We've a skeleton to keep us upright
Fingers abled to work, hold and to write
Arms flexible for to bend and to reach
Energy to put stride in legs and feet.
We've so many extraordinary things
The Lord God above thought of everything
The one thing we can put inside ourself
Is love and love is what makes all things well.
7th March 2021
You can not love someone in parts
It is not fair to judge
the worst of someone new
against the best of someone in your past
And darling, that includes yourself
In English there are different types of words.
Like articles, prepositions, nouns, adjectives and verbs
They have special functions and they teach
Us to distinguish the various parts of speech.
NOUNS of course are words for "things"
Some we can touch or feel or put inside a box
Like BOOKs and BOYS and DIAMOND RINGS
And ELEPHANTS and CAKES and CLOCKS.
(On second thoughts an elephant might just break the box)
Abstract nouns speak of things we cannot see,
Like hope and love and eternity,
Verbs are action words for "doing",
Like "TRY " and "FLY"
- while words like "eating"and "gluing"
and "perusing",
These are words
half noun/half verb....
Like "believing", " waiting", and "amusing",
These Gerunds are somewhat more confusing.
An adverb describes how something is done
Like how BEAUTIFULLY she sang, or how QUICKLY he had run,
These adverbs help describe the verbs,
While adding interest to the words.
An adjective describes a noun
Like a CLEVER boy, or a SILLY clown
Always descriptive, it tells us more,
About the PRETTY girl, or the DIRTY floor.
A preposition gives us an indication,
Of where something is in relation
To something else,
Like under the Table, ON the shelf
Or AGAINST the wall,
Or THROUGH the doorway, DOWN the hall,
Like AROUND the corner, or IN your dreams,
Or OVER the rainbow, or sprinkles ON your ice cream.
Conjunctions, like "AND", and "BUT", "BECAUSE", "HOWEVER"
Help connect our sentences together,
"THEN", "ALTHOUGH","UNLESS","BECAUSE"
Join phrase to phrase,
And clause to clause.
An article is either definite or not,
AN eskimo, A spaceship, THE Polka-dot,
If there's only one of something then use "the"
But if it's one of many, then choose "a".
The interjection -
Express feelings like
joy or excitement,-
Like a huh?! Yea !! wow ! Gee
or a yay Of "delightment" -
Or not so nice feelings
Like groan, sigh or a moan-
All kinds of feelings- whether happy or dark,
Interjections usually end with an exclamation mark. :)
I hope that I have left nothing out
If I have give me a shout,
I hope this lesson helped to teach,
You all about our parts of speech.
******************** "Word Nerds" (like me)... ************
**************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
Now and again
a word
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name suddenly
Apropos adverbs appear
clearly
startling
perplexing
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed beneath eight parts of speech.
Preposition-ed
pre-fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix-ation
turn-ing key
delicately
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped
within prison cells
synonyms
pen bars
filled in
the past participles.
Plagued
like Job's tedious job of
siphoning
deciphering
homographs from heteronyms.
Words never mind!
they wind the mind gliding in the wind...