Best Regarding Poems
"Be careful about reading health
books. Some fine day you'll
die of a misprint"
- Markus Herz.
Once,
I had a particular problem;
fear of falling. Desperation
drove me to a library,
and found a book talking about
a cure. It read
"cure for falling......" with some
words missing. I blended
together some herbs written in the book,
which produced a concoction whose
color hadn't been given a name
in the dictionary.
I took the drink and slept.
The following morning I woke up;
dizzy. I felt like a balloon
in space. I was afraid of falling
from my bed. Doubting the cure,
I went through the book in the Internet.
My foot!
It was a re-published version of an 18th century
spell book,
which advised on the cure of fear
of falling in love!
I didn't have a shaman's advise on taking
the nasty drink.
I wish I went through the book my counselor
gave me,
rather than healing myself in a cheap,
costly way....
Contest Finalized: 28/4/2016
Publishing Date: 12/4/2016
I have a fluffy cat named Snuggles. She is total tranquility- at peace with
herself and the world, but, oh my gosh, she is one lazy cat who lives by her
own rules . . . when I do yoga, so does she- does a good Happy Baby Poise.
she sleeps 90% of the time (on a pink blanket in the center of my bed)
she meows, one meow when I touch her
but is quiet most of the time
she never eats too much at a time
but eats a lot over time
has piles of toys that she ignores
except the squeaky ones (at night)
sometimes hisses (not sure why)
she rules me . . .
likes to lie on her back with her feet in the air (Happy Baby Poise)
checks under the kitchen sink once a day
stands in the bathtub (not sure why)
drinks from my tea cup
wraps herself up in my front door carpet
helps at the computer by sitting on my keyboard
enjoys the sun curled up in my in box
has been known to eat bugs on the porch
and flower petals and leaves (that make her tummy upset)
gives me kisses in bed
licks and rubs her face in my long hair (purring)
takes up most of the bed by stretching out as long as possible
never, ever eats people food
runs away when she hears a loud noise
does only what she wants and when she wants
rules mean nothing to her
loves visitors from a distance
treats are tops in her opinion and she needs them often
sleeps pressed against me on the sofa as I watch television
gives me unconditional love
and I love her to pieces . . .
____________________________
July 23, 2019
Poetry/List/List-regarding my CAT
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1168-341-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
She weaves brilliant lattice reeds
as clouds yawn precocious,
fumbling over themselves for a glance
of Great Spirit patterned by tiny hands.
As clouds yawn precocious
her origin entwines with myth
of Great Spirit patterned by tiny hands,
embossed only with Tsalagi soil.
Her origin entwines with myth
and other children covet, envy her wicker magic
embossed only with Tsalagi soil
of buffalo morning landscapes there.
And other di-ni-yo-tli covet, envy her wicker magic,
fumbling over themselves for a glance
of buffalo morning landscapes there
she weaves brilliant lattice reeds.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood….”
Robert,
You let the split remain unresolved,
and while we stand in awe,
staring at your crossroads
etched in gold and shadow,
do you ever wonder
what lay beyond the path
you did not take?
Even though you say,
“I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Did the road arch upward,
an unfamiliar melody on the wind?
Or did it tumble into brambles,
a half-forgotten warning?
Even now I see your boots----
Mud-caked, maple-tinged-----
pausing at the edge.
Here’s my advice, if you allow it:
Don’t linger too long
in the pondering.
Step once more
into the thicket, the gravel,
the unknown blaze of paths.
And when your pen hesitates,
push it further
to sketch the forest where both trails end-----
or perhaps where they entwine,
branches brushing like old friends.
Some questions don’t need answers,
but oh, how they crave
a different kind of wandering.
Regarding Robert Frost’s famous poem, ‘The Road Not Taken’.
Today I started off eating breakfast,
two eggs toast jelly and coffee.
Today for lunch I was eating,
a grilled cheese sandwich with fries.
Today for dinner my very favorite,
a steak potatoes butter and cake.
Regarding high calories lower I go,
breakfast coffee lunch water dinner salad.
Date Written: 10/6/2020
Theme Picked # 4 REGARDING MY CALORIES
IN PRAISE OF THE ODE Poetry
Contest Sponsored by: nette onclaud
With haste celebrate
The journey you craft and hear
Laughter in the wind
A single seed can turn into a forest.
A single heart can transform a nation.
To be brave is jai ka.
To be generous is jai kwan.
To test the body, climb a mountain.
To test the soul, meet another.
To find happiness, meet as strangers,
But don't stay that way.
With a sabaidee, greet the days, one by one.
With a khop jai and a smile, do what you can
To change worlds, even one inch, one hand at a time.
That is the path of the jai,
Human and forever growing.
Eagernesss to rise,
feel the wise.
REGARDING RUST
Don't accumulate treasures on earth
They soon will lose all their worth
Moths, rust, and thieves will ruin or steal
Treasures like these have no appeal
Heaven is the safest place
Where your treasure should be from the start
Rust nor moths can ne'er deface
For where your treasure is, so is your heart
Curtis Moorman
21 December 2011
For Rick Parise's contest
a poem regarding evil-company
thus do learn to tolerate the blow of wings
of the most inflammable flesh
after the successful sacrifice of the student-hostel
jumping into the peacock-foams
how dangerously is changing the total travel-route of the nail-polish
in the high tide of the coconut-kernel
that conquers the world
today the water-pigeon gets pain
only by the flute made of palm-leaf
can’t be written the pleasure-trip in boat
of the injured-knee night-queen that is deposited heavily
on the collar of the village-moonlight
even-then the gramophone would be playing on
even-then the courageous pheasant would proceed further
to throw towards the squirrel a dinner-sleep
then all the daughters in disguise of birds certainly
may come out from within the salted mosquito-net
burning open-ground in their eyes
even after
the small boats of the fig leaves
would slip from the chorus song
of the roses
then they are to be pulled forward to the river-bed
of the late afternoon
to make them understand again
that such Xerox-centre which can ignore its metallic-birth
does not grow even now on either side of this muddy road
so look at to see how the epenthesis
of the screwpine-leaf withdraws her beak from the old dome
and pours
all new mathematics
into the compact-disc stitched with the back of the sea-tortoise
if that’s not real
how in the left and right
such evil-company of the oxygen would creep
if the next part of this commentary
resumes from the umbilicus cavity of the x-mass
would the blood-sugar of the water-plankton be rising continuously
look there again
the feather of colour that is in her adolescence
touches the cold magnet of her gamut
to disperse the cherry orchards
now if the doors of this brown triangle be got open
you can see on the screen one by one
the projection of the apex-points of the red-palash
and in the night-texture of the kathakali-kathak
they are supplying continuously
small sun-shines in poly-packs
1.
the crystallised handkerchief
of one’s span of life
your handloom-bird brings with its lips
some musical notation of the nimbus
holding that waves within the heart
how much growth does occur
to the sandal-line of a man
or
it does
fall
the blades of grasses are known well
to be vegetarian
the eyes of the reindeer
have cent per cent smelling of fish
then what translation would you suggest
for the fingers of wild titlark
the shirt
they have put on the body of this night-stone
what best word-meaning does match it
but land-lotus
2.
i’ve re-constructed
all the trees and plants
with
the dry straws grass twigs collectively
fetched by beak
and the monsoon
as well
the full-brim of vodka
is deep in the palms
in that moonlight
a sleeping-tablet
does take a dip-swimming
within her enfolding
there may be the whole works of rabindranath
from the breathing of cd-player
spreads around
the sound of horse’s hoof
there is the bed-sheet of dusts
on the anger
kept bound within the cover of rexin
it’s true
our vineyards are still
prone to stones
then it does not seem
that the boiled moon sets
into the tea-cup
3
in your songs
still lies
immense green
the bed-room is too
very bright
the walnuts
walking along the path
that touches the rain-shore
make me think likely
on a sunday
kept in an envelop
when the bedcover of the early morning
speaks frankly
what’s in its mind
to the soap-water
the ears of the horse
in the wall-calendar
look very crazy
i can remember
one day
the sun-boats would tear their wrappers
their whisper would want to discover
the inclinations and thoughts of the creepers and herbs
possessed by the lady-volunteers
their yawing would notice
so many unused handlooms
taking a run-away on the clouds
now
would the cat under the beautiful jersey
finally think of waking up
then i’ll go
to deposit the clever apples
along with
all the triangles accompanying it
to the nearest cold-storage
Here we go again bein' charmed by every political buffoon,
Promisin' each of us ever'thing, the sun, the stars, the moon!
Looks like Trump and Clinton will be nominated fer the election.
Lord, have mercy on this nation! Ain't very much of a selection!
One who has a proclivity fer flauntin' the truth now and again!
The other who thinks foreign policy is negotiatin' fer hotels in Kazakstan!
One who doesn't know what he's doin' and the other who thinks she does.
I fer one am gettin' very weary of hearin' all their inane buzz!
Oh, that it would be possible to resurrect Reagan as was Lazarus,
To rekindle patriotism and decency in this nation for each of us!
Entry for CT's "Political Ordeal" Contest
If a group of religiously fanatical Muslims blow up a building, sadly
many then think that all Muslims are all terrorists too.
I've only one question to ask of them with that backward way of thinking,
"What in the bloody hell is wrong with all of you!?"
By that standard I guess that all Christians most certainly are all terrorists too,
since some have been known to take innocent lives, blowing up an abortion clinic or two.
Those who do evil deeds in the name of God are just that. They're evil. Evil is all that they do,
or most probably severely, fanatical, ignorant, irrational, emotionally and mentally disturbed
fanatical zealots who think that they'll get into heaven by blasphemy of GOD's Word.
So judge wisely who is terrorist
or one day soon you may find this very thing happening to you.
You may find yourself being a victim of a hate crime because this time
The Suspected Terrorist Was YOU.
1.
observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart
in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes
the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her
the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer
in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing
she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia
2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed
with its dark-room
when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green
the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings
evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta
putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon
there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet
it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms
yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation
3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows
they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward
they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey
sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers
though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point
then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward
why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish
truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand
It’s respecting your elders,
And holding open doors;
Obeying your parents,
And doing your chores;
It’s holding your tongue,
And being polite;
An overall knowing of,
What’s wrong and what’s right;
Being courteous and letting,
Good manners shine through;
Removing your hat inside,
Not wearing it backwards or askew;
Being cultured and gracious
To everyone you know,
And when your feeling angry
Not to let it show;
It’s the way you act to strangers,
And helping those in need;
Only with elegance and compassion,
Can civility succeed.