Best Terminals Poems
It's taken me sixty years
Of evolution
To realise the simplicity
Of Earthen electricity
My naked feet, like freshly cleaned
Battery terminals
Strolling in hilarity
To observe correct polarity
Electrons flowing in and out
As I freely shuffle about
In hippyfied insanity
With toes embracing nudity
The science is effusive
So wonderfully conclusive
My body craves perfection
In each pedantry inflection
So to join the sockless roamers
The grass lovers and beach combers
I will earth myself completely
With each step I place, so neatly
Is it magic or just factual?
Like a nature deal, contractual
Or perhaps we were never meant
To be disconnected, discontent
And maybe it's progression
To dismiss the shoe of intercession
Returning to natural citizenship
Of barefoot - grass relationship
Reject the concrete,
Resist the vulcanised persistence
Embrace the beauty
Of a sole-full existence
Categories:
terminals, creation, crush, earth,
Form:
Rhyme
I drop my friends when I no longer need them.
Disposing myself of them at bus terminals, airports,
and other places.
Please do not take this personally.
And if you are a faerie, I may leave you in a bureau drawer,
but rest assured I will leave it open a crack, so you can get in and out.
This pattern has worked well for me, so I shall continue
practicing it.
Categories:
terminals, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Free verse
"Transport Terminals"
When ghosts find ghosts
they walk through the
core of each other
expecting knowledge
of the other’s being
it’s surprising mirrors
are considered
transport terminals
eerily reflective
otherworldly portals
between there
and here
past, present, future
managing the transfer
easily
but it's never
that easy
when you’re a ghost
blueprints are beggars
to transparency
fingers slip through
the heart never seen
the remand centre
for processing
other channels are used
necromantic psychography
quills for keys
moonlit silver water
in a pen, shaken
sharp fountains for ink
cutting calligraphy for
phantom tears
inside the turmoil
of a storm-filled ocean
stirred surface searched
for eidolon's face
reflecting the other
rising to eat
each other's worlds
becoming words
the hungry need to be fed
ghost writers scrying
lives away, not near at all
but in front of each other
turning empty cups
upside down reading
spectral tea leaves
messages invisible
but it's never
that easy
fingers slip through
the heart never seen
the bare bones
of it all
materialise
skeleton keys
for dancing
those inside
the mirror out
locked in the dream
fingers slip through
the heart never seen
messages
ghost written
on mirrors
quills for keys
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“The Special Ones”, Katie Noonan – George
https://youtu.be/LupbCITf4tw
Necromantic = Necromancy
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Necromancy
Psychography
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automatic_writing
Scrying
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrying
Duality
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dualism_in_cosmology
LYRICS/ "The Special Ones", Katie Noonan - George
https://www.lyricslrc.com/song890471/katie-noonan-special-ones
"Crazy", Katie Noonan (Gnarls Barkley cover)
https://youtu.be/NZkE9GB7JuU
LYRICS /"Crazy"
https://genius.com/Gnarls-barkley-crazy-lyrics
Categories:
terminals, muse,
Form:
Narrative
God is good to everyone; so when you love, be in love.
Said to me a Sable Hoplite in mottled clothes; guarding the memoir of his dead wife in Boston’s subway transit.
Robbing a pedestrian of a moment's time as he did from banks for fiat claims and capital climbs via violent crimes.
He intimidates the hive mind as well as mine, but we are receptive.
Like all under the devil's thumb, we wish to traverse the red wall.
I look to my side and see a cherub evolving into a matron of unworldly skies.
Her will soars like a whirlwind sword that scores the fabric of time.
She fosters the orphaned spirit and walks the literal and figuratively blind through their valley of darkness.
Her and I are vagrant and lost like nomads; but we find homage in one another.
Attracting like covalent and ionic bonds.
She’s an eclectic electric Aryan blonde with the constellation Pleiades in the lines of her palm.
The lines are in cursive and those who read and heed its words will hear the echo of the Celestine.
The Valkyrie, oh so cunning and keen; so intent to take me to Valhalla.
She passively leads the Liberation Army; to their respective terminals and posts.
As if to intervene.
Co-collectively, they carry the virtue of a justified rebellion in the form of a military coup.
Encouraged to face the truth even in her absence, a man finds he must transmute.
Categories:
terminals, analogy, appreciation, city, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
The four walls of this hotel room
Look the same as the four walls of the other
The name of the city where you happen to be
Is just another detail in which you smoother
The life of the traveler sounds glamorous
To those we leave at home
But there is no glamour lying awake all night
In a double-bed all alone
It’s the same sad faces in the hotel bar
Spending per-diems on a meal of booze
Business suits searching for the next prospect
Submitting bids they’re apt to loose
Your wife takes care of things at home
Thinking you’re out having a good time
While you wonder if at her bedroom door
The neighbor men are forming a line
Lunches consumed in airport terminals
Rental cars of all shapes and size
There is nothing fun about the people you meet
In the not-so-friendly skies
Yet bills must be paid
And your bread is buttered on the road
But don’t believe that this life is grand
Regardless of the lies the traveler has told
Categories:
terminals, life, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Waiting for a dear friend
to land.
Watching the minutes creep
slowly by.
Amused by the constant flow
of strangers,
yet, not so strange.
Each carries something of mine,
a walk, a shirt, a pin, a watch,
a rundown shoe, a beard,
a lazy eye, a slouch,
a limp, a tear, a hesitant glance,
a disappointed glare.
The hours pass and
all are repeated
over again,
and the same waitress
sold me coffee
three times over,
in three hours,
as if each was the first time.
I watched the tables being straightened
by the same somber lady,
every half hour,
working around me
as if I wasn't there,
and I was struck
by how we each perform our role,
me waiting,
she selling,
she straightening
the one that I wait for, coming,
and how all our moves are
duplicated,
in a thousand terminals,
and connected each to each,
in a gigantic dance,
reverberating all around
the world,
person to person,
person to animal,
and to insect,
and to countless beings,
seen and unseen,
a connected organism,
sometimes at war with itself,
but, more often, just
being,
and growing,
and changing,
and it breathes the air,
and clings to the earth,
and swims in the sea,
maybe is the sea,
and the earth,
and my passionate love,
seems very small,
indeed.
Categories:
terminals, imagination, introspection, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
" Beavers and Black Widow Spiders ... "
(From The Solomon Studies Series # 6)
(Eccl. 3: 11 / Prov. 6: 6 / Matt. 6: 26, 28, 29)
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Architecturally - Skilled
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Born With A Blueprint To Build
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Furry Creatures - But To Few Appeal
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Have A Bite That Can Cause Damage & Ill
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Seems To Have Avid-Arrangement Zeal
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both - Busy Workers In Their Field
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both, Bold & Blocks With No Trespassing Shields
Tho' Aracnids Can Spin and Create Aeirals
Beavers, Can Route Strong Rivers' Terminals
Tho' One Builds Dams & The Other One, Webs
Both Are Gifted and Noted Construction Celebs
Tho' One Owns Silk Factories & One - Lumber Mills
Both Are Building With GOD's Contract, Permit-Seal
Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Denizens Are Divine Designs By GOD's Will
Written & Copyrighted ©: 1/7/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
Categories:
terminals, creation, insect, nature, spiritual,
Form:
Couplet
Fox So Brave
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Elusive creatures come out to play,
No human predators spoiling their day.
Air smells sweet, less carbon, less diesel,
Foot of my garden, Stoat plays Weasel.
Heathrow is quiet, terminals asleep,
Pleasantly eerie, not a sound or peep.
Humans in sanctuary, stay safe and sound,
New order in place for wildlife around.
It won't last long, enjoy while you can,
In a few weeks or more the return of man.
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Categories:
terminals, animal, life,
Form:
Sonnet
On a Personal Note
I feel I need to share with
all of you why I have been scarce here on soup.
I am legally blind with two terminals. I also
have a mass that is growing in the left quadrant of my brain.
I have just been notified of another problem called
Chronic Peroxysmel Hemicranias which causes 5 to 40 painfully severe attacks on my brain
per day.
Please forgive my absence I am trying to be here between attacks but it is a slow process.
Please keep me in your prayers
Love Cookie
Carole Cookie Arnold
2010
Categories:
terminals,
Form:
Bio
© Ben Burton Feb 5, 2014
I view beauty with desire
But am seen through abstract eyes
Which begats a mystery
For I don't try to be that kind
The shattered pieces in my wake
As tea leaves wither in the brine
Leave only scarves to pacify
The punctured seal can't be revised
No posturing through symphonies
With trebled horns, but for the one
That is and was and shall remain
While hearts still beat and rivers run
Should I not come before I go
Indulgence can't be quantified
For every itch that is not scratched
Becomes a casualty to time
Yet, with decorum I imbibe
Without deception at the core
Or abrogation of the vow
Unto myself, no spawn of spore
And without mirror to reflect
The bounder from a boundless shore
Inspectors at the terminals
Will fruitlessly try to record
But DNA will not impeach
The gene which flawlessly imparts
Abilities to cherry-pick
The naivete of hopeful marks
So, to ourselves we need be true
From courtesan to bon vivant
And though restraint may be pursued
It will not kill the will to want
Categories:
terminals, evil, farewell, metaphor, pain,
Form:
Rhyme
Ultimate Betrayal
Two years ago my son
family came for a weekend
Elated, I prepared the house
for their comfort to tend
Within one hour of his arrival
I heard a scream of terror
He seized and stopped breathing
with a heart error
Pounding on his chest, I gave CPR,
screaming Oh God take me
His babies watched in fright,
my heart sank at what they could see
I lost him that day he
was forty years old.
Flashbacks played as
my blood ran cold
His wife took the children
and shut our family out
A selfish betrayal of
jealousy came about
We have not seen the
children for two years now
Damaging our hearts and
bruising our brow
I suffer from two terminals,
knowing what will be
Their sweet little faces
again, I will never see
Betrayed by one who
I loved very much
I lost them all that day,
with that last final touch.
Carole Cookie Arnold
02/16/2010
Categories:
terminals, childhood, death, depression, family,
Form:
Rhyme
EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION
While in this world it seems opposites have attraction
Male - female, plus - minus, north - south, captain and crewman
Between these terminals, force yielded by interaction
Drives the machines of existence material and human
Another vector impels not by contrast causation
Draws together the similar and those of perceived relativity
Thus species, races, interests, languages and nations
Coalesce, combine, blend and merge with close affinity
In human life, its creations, exchange, let alone sin
Our actions and products are coloured by our emotion
Thus what attracts tends to match what we feel within
This accord can account for affection or even devotion
But away with these generalities and abstractions
So before your eyes are completely glazed, near closure
A case: those who find dismal poems to have an attraction
Have within themselves some sadness they're not yet over
As it's been observed, behind faces of calm insulation
There may be hidden emotions well concealed
Many living lives of quiet desperation
That are, in their responses, unwittingly revealed
Categories:
terminals, creation, emotions,
Form:
Verse
Winged Warrior
With his hand over his faded heartbeat
Tuskegee airman, Ohio’s son,
Takes off in a flight plan for eternal terminals
This living aviator legend –
Whose heart looked up to soar on metal wings -
Flew through skies torn by warring clouds
And kissed the earth when landing once again
Knew only well discrimination’s determination to clip his wings
This December child, forever linked in birth to a day of infamy
When battleships lay impotent at the bottom of a harbor’s pearl,
Logs his last flight plan -
A general with a single star to grace his epaulettes -
Salutes his heavenly commander in chief
To leave jet trails of victory across Heaven’s pure air of blue–
Wearing on his tribute stone a Distinguished Flying Cross –
A Bronze Star –
Flies through all barriers of race above the slurs
After launching younger dreams of flight in a life of service
As his last mission takes him home –
No mission impossible -
Past the jealous bonds of earth soaring into eternity,
Into the welcome caress of God who takes the controls
Who was and always will be his Heaven sent co-pilot.
Tribute to General Charles McGee – a Tuskegee Airman who never let discrimination clip the wings of his dreams to become a military pilot during WWII. He flew over 400 mission in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. Born December 7, 1919. Flew home January 16, 2022 at the age of 102.
4-7-22
Contest: Brian Strand Standard
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
terminals, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
Airport terminals betray many turbulent thoughts,
as lives pass and friends fly, far away.
I sit here in this chair, wondering when
I'll ever see such faces again.
Some tears have already made their way down,
forcing themselves to the sad surface.
When shaking hands with your teacher and your friend,
hugging the ones who've made you whole - it is what it is.
More, however, are yet to come.
As we taxi out on the runway, departure-bound,
I see behind my eyes this scene on the silver screen;
and lo, what plays out before my glistening eyes.
A soft melody breaches my ears and my mind,
tag-teaming with the past
to bring forth such savage depths;
drops, slowly, continue to fall.
As I think of those I will always miss,
no matter how close or how undeniably far;
as this is born into life on the page;
I ache for home.
I know what I am;
I fight for all things familiar.
I gave up my right to not feel this,
to defend others' rights never to.
A man dear to me once told me
that I've done my share. No matter how long it's been,
just the first step was enough, he said.
That I owe nothing more.
I hope he's right.
I hope, when this is over, that I can find
all these faces. That I can find
my way back once more.
Maybe one day I can figure out
how to listen.
Maybe one day, I'll live for me;
maybe one day I'll believe him.
Categories:
terminals, cry, dad, father, friendship,
Form:
Free verse
BETA—Get your munitions. Transmissions state your location. Defense will be here in
approx five minutes.
Agent—Thanks, it’s time to leave.
BETA—Good idea.
BETA alarmed Agent of an Associate vehicle in the next room. Agent charges into the
garage to find a large military green pick-up truck. They jumped in and roared the
engine. As they drove down the inner driveway, and crashed through the door to
outside, BETA give the nearest “safe” point. They drove toward the outskirts of the city
hoping for safety. The reach a small village and stop to rest.
BETA—The locals here are anti-war people. We may have a chance to stay the night.
Agent— Sure- Is there a place to stay?
BETA— There is a town terminal a block down. That should give you information about
a place to sleep.
Agent— A terminal? Why would I use a terminal?
BETA— It provides info about anything in the area. Like a computer.
Agent—I know what it is. I want to know, why you don’t know if there is a place to
stay?
BETA—I’m not programmed to things that are not war-related
Agent—O.K. lets move…
-In these times most towns with a high enough population have a sheltered place
where there are terminals or computers that have maps and other things for travel and
such-
Agent gets back in the truck and started down the road toward the center of town.
BETA directed him to the building he was searching for.
Categories:
terminals, adventure
Form:
Prose Poetry