Best Whose Poems

The worldliness within the sphere     
reflecting morning light, 
as poignant as a single tear 
idea bright is crystal clear 
and frames the heavens in her sight 
though soft the fall through night.

Settled 'pon a leaf flirtation     ...

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Whose voices, whose memories are these
That warble in trees, exalting my breeze
Applauding the daybreak's cerulean grin
Where amber ocher designs are floating in

Is that your echo from the cobalt blue sky
Wondering aloud about dawn's tepid sigh
As the morning evoked destiny's knowhow
And birdsongs lauded the blessings of...

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Whose got the money honey?
Raining debt is just not fun
Have you got the money honey?
Rebecca's farm no longer sunny.
Whose got the money honey?
Could it be the Easter bunny?
Whose got the money honey?...

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Whose Reality

Reality is the new
fantasy
of perception
as reality.

It matters not
what is seen.
What matters is the
perception
of what is seen.

Every observation
must be “photo-shopped”
through the lens
of desired perfection.

It matters not
what is said.
What matters is the
perception
of what is heard.

Every word
must be sanitized,
cleansed in the acid
of political correctness.

It matters not
what is...

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Blackness Engulfs Rare Beauty Whose Soft Heart There Holds

Blackness engulfs rare beauty whose soft heart there holds
she that pretty flowers envy yet still dare to adorn.
Emerging as a rare butterfly from cocoon's deep folds,
her light will grace all and never her heart be torn.

As darkness...

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By the snap crack clackings of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes
In robes of finest silk did it dine
and found our flesh most divine

A creature who wore the cloth
In life did it spit upon the cross
To eat the flesh, and consume the blood
And many have...

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AFFILIATION TO WHOSE LAW

If I was law unto myself
What would I be?
Where would I go?
What would I say?
Would I in such a way
Be free?
Or be shown a dark
And narrow path,
Which would purposely
Divert my way?
Would it excite me,
To greet each day
With confidence,
That my every deed
My every...

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whose bliss is this

when all ye have tranquility
absorbed in meditation
as purified drops of water
are drawn into a sponge

a wild and roving gypsy girl 
this pagan wench becomes
and takes me to the byroads
where fauns and satyrs run....

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Whose normal – your normal or my normal I ask her.
She is shocked.
Believing we all have the same normal.

My children roller skated in the house, I tell her.
They had swings in the basement. We had pink goats.
My normal might not be your normal.

But that does...

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I have nothing to say
I tell myself
Inside my brain is empty
Swept clean!
Nothing being thought
Let alone clever
Then I sense a tension
I know I have walled in
Several thoughts 
But it's so neat in my brain
I cannot move any partitions
Thrum thrum thrum
The thoughts are really not the 
Containable...

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And so it is
And so it was
And so shall always be

This group of smartly sounding words
Leaves little hope for you or me

Can what will be, be
If what was, wasn’t
Because what is, isn’t

If the truth becomes the lie
And the lie follows suit
Would that make seeking either
A...

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I see no numbers
hers is the only figure
she's my addition...

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Whose child is this, before me laid
A gift of God, from his love made
Two tiny hands my heart embrace
This one who chose my world to grace
So innocent, so unafraid

As each small feature is surveyed
Life as I knew it starts to fade
As I gaze down upon...

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‘t was on a rainy day in Camelot
A knight saw a maid he liked a lot
Before he paid heed
He remembered, indeed
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

The maid, it seemed, had almost forgot
The words of her mother, whose name was Dot
For marital bliss
Remember just...

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If
By Byron Juno

If women MUST die
Then Atieno would die first
If children were to forage
Then Atieno's would forage forever
If women were to walk necked 
Then Atieno's would walk throughout the year
If women were to trade their honeypot
Then Atieno's would donate hers
If women were after money not
Then...

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