If the Muse bolts from me, I'll love her more
still and pen heartfelt songs of forlorn rhymes;
yet, I'll still wilt within internal climes
of gloom from her forsaking me before
I empty her spirit, for I've sometimes
gone to cruel lengths to dash her gentle heart.
So, having erred, the consequence for art,
and ingenious meters, thus makes betimes
my Muse's faithfulness to then depart
(from me). To shortly beg her forgiveness,
I take my medication, lower my stress:
renew my efforts to make a fresh start.
For my patient Muse, a Pierian empress,
inspires my dark, bipolar mind's fitness!
Even now, despite the time
that's gone by since you were mine,
I find at quiet moments in my heart -
that you never left me for
in my heart there is no door
thus, your memory locked inside me must reside.
Though my heart I've tried to sway,
and move on to a new day.
I fail because my dreams I can't escape.
Wherein betimes you come again,
kindling fire from deep within,
and I burn to touch your skin and see your face.
But though I hold you for a time,
the dream turns so to remind -
that we cannot be together in this life.
For the dream, it always fades
and I watch you slip away,
as I’m left to feel the pain, just like a knife.
Then I wake and I wonder why
though a thousand times I've cried,
your wound, it never heals, there’s no reprieve.
Perhaps written before time
was a tale of you and I,
such as to make the heavens weep upon its read.
So, I guess I’ll read along,
turn this into our love song.
I’ll sing it every day until the end,
and keep living life to yearn
while I wait the dream's return
holding hope that someday... it will never end.
Hurry, get there on time
Can’t afford to be late
The world never waits
Move, hustle, push and shove
You’ve a date with love
Destiny requires a destination
a solution, resolution
betimes reconstitution
Move, hustle, push and shove
You’ve a date with love
States of agitation
test maturation
rise above defamation
Move, hustle, push and shove
You’ve a date with love…
It’s over, my fool
it never was cool
the world's ever cruel
To qualify as an educated gent
to certain boarding-schools one must be sent
To learn how to position one's fork and knife
and raise one's pinkie, unlike lowlifes
A gent speaks with an air of charm and grace
his nose gradually rising on his face
Savaging the ways of 'today's barbaric youth'
while knocking down shots of gin and vermouth
Such gents betimes depart fine society
exposing themselves ~ targets of impropriety
Hovering somewhere
at times alongside
betimes even over
Detached
out of sync
removed from
A world once so important
~ mocks my very existence
The violin, betimes so sweet and soothing
Architect of romance and passion
Able to conjure shores of waves crashing
May the tears in her bow ever stay in fashion
Poetry gives wings to the soul
Like music, it's meant to extol
Though betimes its place, to console
Inspirational it is, on the whole
~ The Rebbitzin ~
The 'Rebbitzin' is the wife
of the Rabbi,
the heart and soul of the
Jewish family
-as you'll see
He studies his books
I scrub all the nooks
He adjudicates laws
I cook and clean without pause
He recites prayers, brings down God’s light
Me? --I do laundry well into the night
As for our nine children, who puts them in bed?
Again me, after which betimes I think I am dead
Now, I’m not complaining
For this life I was training
And the Rabbi’s a wonderful fella…
But who am I? ~ Cinderella?
adrift in the cosmos
a vagabond world
haunted betimes
eternally cursed
for unatoned crimes
Clouds betimes block out the sun
The sun returns not the favor
Perhaps it knows a thing or two
Familiarity's not what man savors
A slippery stride there always is,
Where right and wrong confounding meet;
And one for the other you'll mistake,
Try hard as you may to be discreet.
The former fogged by doubts,
You'll betimes sprain for trifling sense;
And the latter's guise lamb-skinned
Often sits upon the dazzling fence.
Titanic ills spring someplace betwixt
Ages' two polar extremes above:
One akin to the other bemusing looms,
The darker winged like virgin dove.
The lighter-hued unassuming chaste,
Bestows fastest sprinters to odd ease
Her more outgoing nemesis affords;
Bartering quickest kudos for priciest peace.
Your feet
smell sweet
Why cover them
when a girl you meet
I have a hunch
you betimes put them
in your mouth to munch
Poetry's senses, pure --
graced from Above --
Sail soft, betimes unsure
on wings of Love
A blank sheet of paper
of no special value
covered with your words...
they touch, linger and stay
betimes heavily weigh
move others to ponder
the mystery of... of life itself
~ or just a quiet day
The press of the seasons
the passing of time
Winds whistle by
Can winter be nigh
Summertime's monarch
on the wing in June
Betimes eclipsed
by Fall's Harvest Moon
I look up at gray skies
beg for Autumn to stay
When the last leaf on the tree
floats past me today
September 26, 2020
Completely Your Choice (17) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
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