Best Stretching Poems
Pleasingly Plump
Obese, bloated, overwrought with contrition
Lainey hung a chart of each yoga position
Couldn’t deal with stretching
Mice she’s still fetching
She defies my lectures on nutrition
Julia's that special someone
who comes into your life
Besides a thrilling poet
she's a mother and a wife
First you don't understand
exactly what she means
but later on you grasp
Julia's more than she seems
She isn't argumentative
uncaring or aloof
just takes a little time
and knowing her is proof
I'm glad that I met Julia
and she's my facebook friend
A special kind of lady
to be enjoyed again!
evening stretching
weeping willow snow tinged
airs and graces
entry for Charles Henderson's haiku vs.senryu competition
I trace my fingers along the stretch marks
I feel no child from within
I feel a rock, hitting an unknown surface
I feel it invading me everyday
I cry more nights than any child would
I cry when tears no longer fall
Just moans…like the night it happened
And I crawl into bed,
Knowing my dreams will welcome the scene
Blood dripped on the pavement
Alone was happy to be with me
I felt no one knew and it gave me solace
But then I remembered
What the intruder has already forgotten
I fire into the center of my belly
Pink liquid and blood spilling
I finger the holes that I felt till that day
Climb inside
Climb inside
Splinters of a carcass remain in my womb
Desperate to consume
A fistful of embryo
Staring at me…
I burn holes…more and more
Until I rest on the ground again
Where the blood spilled
And my body is stretching…
As I realize
My wretched child shall cry all these nights
Desperately I will shield my sobs
As it opens its eyes
Coming out of me…
Like the intrusion of the rock
I will pretend
Like the night it was created
I will pretend that Alone is my friend
And I will bend over in defeat
Letting it out of me
As the liquid spills and spurts
Stretching me more and more….and more
I want to confess
(I need penance and absolution) before I go on
with writing
my muse is my prisoner and I keep her in bondage
I make her think deeply
she is a slave to my rhythmic flow
she is my poetic pulse
my artistic source
mused words
musing verses
And I must confess
(I often keep muse in a box) restrained and confined
captive
it is a beautiful box and she is quite safe in there
but I need rest from her thoughts
so I want to confess
in this short shrift
I am quite guilty of stretching M U S E
(when I need to execute a poem)
and then putting her back in the box until needed again
_____________________________
June 28, 2015
Free Verse
For the contest, Short Shrift, sponsor, John Lawless
Seventh Place
Stretching in early morning,
Earth wakes up yawning.
People stretching in early morning,
one with the dawning.
You see them stretching
bending each leg back so far
boundaries tested
overextending limits
~ Then they run a marathon
Stopped for a rest on my drive back home
Got out to stretch my legs
When I got back in I noticed a change
It surprised this hard boiled egg
The gas pedal was closer than it was before
A fact it made me holler
“What's going on? I'm really quite spooked!”
“I must be one foot taller!”
Now I know it's just an old expression
You don't literally stretch your legs
But for someone learning the english language
These nuances are hard to peg
“Cause if the stretching were really true
I'd soon be over eight feet tall
I'd have to build a room with extra high ceilings
So I don't bump my head and fall!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Stopped for a rest on my drive back home
Got out to stretch my legs
When I got back in I noticed a change
It surprised this hard boiled egg
The gas pedal was closer than it was before
A fact it made me holler
“What's going on? I'm really quite spooked!”
“I must be one foot taller!”
Now I know it's just an old expression
You don't literally stretch your legs
But for someone learning the english language
These nuances are hard to peg
“Cause if the stretching were really true
I'd soon be over eight feet tall
I'd have to build a room with high ceilings
So I don't bump my head and fall!
© Jack Ellison 2013
If love is healthy
perhaps health is a form of love,
like synergetic relationships,
witnessing awesome consciousness
of bilateral co-arising events
as love connection,
healthy function.
All, or at least most, circuits and systems
positive co-empathic functioning.
So hatred would be pathology,
disassociating circuits and systems.
But, what about apathy?
Apathy and hatred,
a pathology monoculturing spectrum?
as passive peace and active love
emerge a healthy polyculturing network
of eco-nesting systems.
God, then, as love
emerges divine healthy outcomes,
Earth's Source of peace in darker denser rest,
and also more ecstatic activity co-arising love,
therapeutic relationships and transactions
of eco- and biosystems,
finding peace for quieter nights,
establishing ergodic patterns
of integral love
for daytime romance,
creation stories
unfolding one day
one synergetic season
one fractal-bilateral fold of Sacred Memory
as Medicine Becoming
in good/beauty
physical/mental health time.
Going back, then, to love as healthy
and apathy through hatred
unease through diseased
Could health inspire a divine comedy
ego/eco-logic of in/out-side wealth
of compassionate cooperation?
As pathology is a double-negative economy
of Lose to Lose dissociative competition?
runaway Capitalization
absent brakes of unconditional warm regard.
Earth emerges chronic need
of human nature's transformation
from anthro-supremacist competition with other bio-systems
to health-centric compassion
of Yin's peaceful
endosymbiotic
integral flow temporal functions
emerging Yang's polyculturally harmonic
ectosymbiotic
open-systemic
fractal-polysyntax spatial forms,
together co-arising space/time's
body/mind balancing dipolar cooperative
health empowering systems
as economically enlightened
nutritional communication flowcircuits
enhealthing dense polycultural trust
and beauty.
ReGenesis Design grows health-benefitting roots
in multicultural synergetic outcomes,
therapeutic systems of EarthTribe integrity,
facilitating co-arising internal/external
healthy communication nurturing circuits
of wealthy wu wei flow.
I wish I could stretch time,
balance it out,
place it back in perfect design,
trying to manipulate my rhyme,
Letting my creativity flow through my mind,
Yet my efforts vanish like smoke and that’s fine,
feeling like I’m god’s attempt
to achieve perfection, when expectations
hides behind my eyes,
You don’t see it, I know,
I’m just a distraction,
and I know my reaction goes unseen,
it’s how it always happens,
Left on scene,
Our connection ends in a fleeting second,
Left without a word, a lost attraction,
This misconception is my downfall,
Wrong direction if you will,
Everybody’s fool the first impression
others glean,
But trust I incorporate my scripts
still with ease,
Yeah rebeltease that’s me,
Still gentle waves of mercy I
release into the night,
It’s how my sanity speaks,
And where I find my peace,
Because the thought of me
is so brief across your mind,
In the shadows not even a secret,
How can you be so mean?
Thrust into the depths into a darkness
to be haunted,
Trying to hide from the wraith
of your gauntlet,
Leaving me trying to redeem myself,
How do I escape my life on repeat?
Because you leave me incomplete,
Awaiting that infinite moment
I cross your mind once again,
It’s where I begin my end….
Take my hand, Lord I'm reaching,
My arm extended
Barely able to touch you. I stand on
The edge of the far side of this shadowy cliff,
As high as I'm able to bare, the sight
Of you, Lord, causes my eyes to blister from
The crystal like brightness of your beauty. The
Sun truly shines upon you.
Your face, is gentle, but solemn, Lord
Have mercy on me, embrace my hand and let
Me walk with you through the thresholds of
Heaven. Your name Lord, upon my lips. Protect me
From the rugged speech the world has incased
Me in. Let me capture the expression in your warm
Enchanting eyes, the eyes of purity, Oh Lord,
I'm stretching hard against the breadth of the
Snow white clouds, but yet, you're still only
Just a little ways away.
July 17 Scripture Meditations Based on Isaiah 19-23
Key Verse – Isaiah 23:11 He stretched out his hand over the sea, he shook the kingdoms: the LORD hath given a commandment against the merchant city, to destroy the strong holds thereof.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR STRETCHING OUT YOUR HAND OVER ME
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-righteousness
With Your salvation’s holiness
That covers my confessed sinfulness by Your forgiveness…
I give myself to Your heart-sanctifying pureness.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-pity
With Your mercy’s bounty
That enhances my spiritual beauty…
I entrust myself to Your soul-valuing verity.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-interest
With Your plan’s best
That vanquishes my esteemed pride pest…
I surrender myself to Your ambition-checking test.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-indulgence
With Your control’s prevalence
That subdues my complaining persistence…
I submit myself to Your faith-upholding permanence.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-fulfillment
With Your leadership’s engagement
That rebukes my worldly enjoyment…
I offer myself to Your sacrifice-approving bestowment.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-sufficiency
With Your clemency’s excellency
That halts my materialistic tendency…
I bring myself to Your contentment-satisfying constancy.
Thank You for stretching out Your hand over me and my self-exaltation
With Your humility’s function
That breaks my haughty disposition…
I yield myself to Your life-transforming perfection.
We stretched
the sugar coated
sweet taffy
all day long
taffy snap back
into our mouths
and roll down
into our
childish bellies
as, we buzzed
our wings
through the
tall switch
grass of home
in a dragonfly
happy mode
I step forward with the fear that in the years to come, like shadows stretching at dusk,
Every word spoken or written will evaporate like morning dew,
Like dust carried by the wind or rivers flowing into forgotten seas,
My thoughts will scatter with the dawn, silent and lost.
I have no wealth or fame, no legacy of great deeds to leave behind,
No scars of war or stars discovered, nor races won,
Like so many others whose words and thoughts have now been swallowed by time,
I fear a wordless fate, like confetti thrown toward the heavens.
The poet’s dream of living beyond oblivion haunts me in secret,
For someone to read these words would save the soul from the void,
Only time will tell if these letters will write the end of these phrases,
Simple scribbles now that might, somehow, be read on future pages.
I wonder if my echo will resonate in the vast silence of the universe,
If my metaphors will dance among the stars or fade into oblivion,
If the dream of touching eternity with a verse will outlast the night,
Or if it will vanish like a fleeting dream, swallowed by the relentless waves of time.