Neosoul and swing a melonic groove
is how she fashioned his music.
A term of endearment.
They styled the ollabartions
from words
one word supported
the other.
A circa when with the lyrics.
A rich bold bassey groove to some songs.
And a strict snap and turn dance ska for the lovers of dance..
when the whoomps and the strings intermingle
with the woodwinds and brasses.
People jump from there seats
and be shaking there a$ses type music. Inspiration from
the orcheastras eagerness to
show how great they are. Some people look
at inspiration from
not finding the right thing to say.
But these cats walk on hot tin roofs barefooted
knowing what to do.. Bluestone Funk!
Sweet romance with no broken heart type
movements.
grooving to the groove makes
love songs that much appealling. Smile at you defeat
knowing your time is coming. Wear that strap Champion and
shake your thang at your reseption.
Categories:
bluestone, music, sports,
Form: Ballade
I just keep seeing them, the hooves pounding those old rain-soaked cobblestones, somewhere in the back of my mind. I feel the creeping fog against someone else’s skin, not mine.
An old iron lamp post and that old lamplighter, impressions are burned into my third eye. I knew him in another lifetime. I’ve traversed so much time, so many centuries in brief seconds.
All of my senses succumb to the lamp’s flame as it burns the oil and the scent of that old pipe that he smokes, this lamplighter.
Who is the woman in lace whose body, in which I am? From whose eyes do I look out over this emerald landscape from bluestone walls? She does not know the lamplighter in that other place. She lived four centuries before him, yet she is inside my head...my body.
Past lives reside in the soul’s backpack. We carry them through numerous incarnations and occasionally a memory escapes to speak, when we need it the most.
2-20-2023
Deja vu Poetry Contest
Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
bluestone, poems, poetry, spiritual,
Form: Free verse
He was a gentle gentleman.
Quiet and refined,
Patient and kind.
He lived alone
In a small house
Made of bluestone
Without a spouse.
No encumbrances at all
He had no wish for a wife,
To complicate his life
He could never fall
In love.
He could not bear,
To start an affair.
She might make demands,
Or command him
To do something
He did not wish to do
He could already feel the string
Tightening around his throat
He felt he was going to choke
His face was turning blue.
Responsible for a wife
Not on your life,
Thought this gentle gentleman,
Rising from his chair
Looking debonair
He said I'll stay just as I am
Categories:
bluestone, 10th grade,
Form: Rhyme
THE HAUNTING MYSTERY OF STONEHENGE
It’s a prehistoric landmark,
built five thousand years ago,
who actually constructed it,
we still don’t really know.
Standing near Salisbury, England
on the dusty northern plain,
the reason for its existence,
no-body can explain.
The bigger stones called “sarsens”
are thirty two feet tall,
each weigh twenty two cubic tons
stand on end to form each wall.
The stone came from 20 miles away
and it seems quite bizarre,
these people of antiquity
could move such stone so far.
Forty tons of bluestone rest,
surviving climate wear and tear
but the biggest question still remains,
how did it get up there?
Is Stonehenge a haunting monument
what a sculptor dreams about,
or is it an ancient puzzle
we’ve yet to figure out?
Mystery Poetry Contest –July 2/2016
Categories:
bluestone, beautiful, history, meaningful,
Form: Quatrain
Over a hundred years ago in the bush of west Queensland
the cure all for everything was,
a mixture of axle grease blue stone and arsenic.
It was known to heal up skin cancer,
sore backs on horses kill swamp cancer on a horses belly ...
.it killed the skin cancer on old lumpy an Aboriginal about 1900 ad..
.bluestone was used to get rid of proud flesh on a horse...
.My great great grandpa Joe White,
when asked was it any good?
He replied it will heal up a dogs ass in 3 days,
and grow hair on it on the 4th ...
arsenic puffed into white ants kills many
and they cannabalise till the last ant goes hungry
thanks for your time...
Don
Categories:
bluestone, adventure, cancer,
Form: Ballad
a didactic poem
When eloquence leaves you a’wanting,
if verbal effluence you’re flaunting,
should your audience appear daunting,
kiss the Blarney Stone.
I climbed the circular tower,
reached the hundred ninety-third step,
and waded through unhurried queue.
I trembled with anxiety,
gasped for ev’ry uncertain breath,
and paused to view but then I knew.
Hidden underneath the rampart
this infamous bluestone will rest
I shan’t pursue my lips on blue.
When commonsense says, “No way”,
if plain prudence seeks delay,
should consequence have its say,
pass the Blarney stone.
6
Categories:
bluestone, dedication, funny, places, satire,
Form: Didactic
A distant dampness wrings the air.
A weight most profound presses chest
as indrawn breath holds silent;
in the stonehedge of overwhelming gloom.
So, the mighty have fallen
auguries of a mortal doom.
Without missive,
bluestone bones, stanchions silhouette
onto a plane of pastel sky.
Gargantuan, they rise, a tomb.
So, the mighty have fallen
auguries of a mortal doom.
Brittle brown blood expunged
by millennium three,
the still, symbolic, oak forest rises.
Frozen sarsens, five, forming an open grove.
Megaliths beaconing a golden eastern dawn
So, the multitude will rise within the circle
without earthly substance, soul;
through green grasslands loam
ashen augury of a different tome.
Categories:
bluestone, history
Form: Free verse