Everyone believes in mental anguish.
Like seashells clogging everything nice.
Gruesome last bits of seaweed.
Blah.
Everyone is generous as they claim.
With their last life boat.
They want everyone to clamor aboard.
So that it gets weighed down and- no survivors.
Burden.
Unease.
As that little boat wheezes its last wheeze and starts to turn sick.
Everyone is on their last life boat, some days.
That’s either mental anguish or seaweed I’m spitting out.
When your life boat gets so full it’s like a gruesome cannonball.
No one is moving or even squirming anymore.
Burble.
It’s gruesome.
With Adeyanju
I am a good Jew
Bleeding
From my ruptured view
Stainless bloody dew
Leading...
Its flow gushing clue
Behind old cum new
Reading...
Of thoughts in my mind
He knows of which kind
Loading...
What my chest box bind
My eyes lights both shined
Coding
Wandering look seems blind
If his eyes aligned
Goading
Yes, he did view right
What my eyes invite
Screaming
With joy yet polite
What a lousy night
Dreaming
Of what such delight
Would be like cum flight
Redeeming
Same nice rare moment
Without adjustment
Playing
Raw, cool, and ancient
Like in the convent
Swaying
The distant ailment
To cover when absent
Weighing
The missing trouble
Noisy class burble
Canes sought
To checkmate stable
Heavy parable
Fear fought
But this night's fable
For peace feast double
Past fraught
Your whisper is in the burble of the spring stream.
You pass through the internodes like rays through a prism.
I have composed my lyrics. I would like to sing.
My morphemes are coarse. Could you give me your rhythm?
Aesthetics and passions amalgamate in me.
My soul finds solace in your consoling bosom.
Sentiments break within me, like waves of the sea.
Words move tunelessly. Could you give me your rhythm?
Mind and heart should be in tune, like a musical.
Compassion for creatures should be the sole dictum.
Shouldn't equilibrium be endless moral?
Castles of creeds crash. Could you give me your rhythm?
To begin and end each of my days with truism
Dear Mother Nature, could you give me your rhythm?
PURPLE
Purple my soft moss seat in paradise
amethyst crown purple so wise
High Priestess purpled silken silent and bold
has no need to compete with cool
Countess whose court is neat
but oh so cold !
What a sweet treat to see
ripe ripple granadilla purpled fall from tree
she made an indigo way from leafy branch
to loamy Earth to juicy kiss my feet
landing on delicate fairy roots with a scarlet beat
Purple irises erect rows in park holler
such powerful maidens compete not for dollars chased by bookie rookie scholars who fail
to see abundance in nature’s holy colour
divinely composed with innocent hues of valour
How humans sniffle and snuffle when they
seek lilac happiness in ludicrous money
all they need do is close their eyes to
visualise dining on purple aubergine,
mauve butter bean laced with dripping honey
in violet chameleon coves hosting bunnies
watching a shimmering sunset
holy purple burble !
.
mine lips splutter
with drawl
whilst yourn lips
burble
babble
feign'n
the delicious taste
uv
love
,)
When I was crazy,
Everyone was bubbles.
And they never popped.
And they never shrunk to nothingness.
Everything was about to repair itself naturally.
When I was crazy,
I would gather up my family and friends.
I would talk and forget, talk and forget.
Then explain with a jolt.
My words would bubble and burble like from a fish’s mouth.
When I was crazy…
Everyone loved me.
When I was crazy.
In the morning I heard the tea pot singing,
With the amber liquid sizzling,
Saw spouts of vapor ejecting,
With a sweet aroma tickling.
While pouring my cup of steaming tea,
Adding some cream, a little sugar and stirring it
I thought of the magic effect it brings,
Reviving us on every morning and keeping us fit.
As we sip it while we scan the news paper
We feel the early languor being lifted,
Keeping us hydrated throughout the day,
With our cognitive abilities liberally assisted.
I feel there is nothing like a cup of well blended tea,
For a tired soul to enliven his body.
It’s delicious taste and delicate fragrance,
Make it everyone’s lovesome buddy!
It’s a heavenly drink for the torpid minds,
A beverage brewed from the best of leaves.
A magic potion for the feverish lips,
Which in tiresome hours, everyone craves.
Sure, teatime is the most pleasant family time.
How we babble and burble over a cup of tea
Drawing people closer and cementing relations.
Certainly, it’s a time to look forward with glee.
I hear the tea pot singing
With the amber liquid sizzling
I see spouts of vapor ejecting
With sweet aroma spreading
A cup of hot steaming tea
Revives us on every morning
As we sip it when we scan the news
We feel the early languor lifting
Nothing like a cup of well blended tea
For a tired soul to enliven his body
Its delicious taste and delicate fragrance
Make it everyone’s lovesome buddy
A heavenly drink for the torpid minds
A beverage brewed from the best of herbs
A magic potion for the feverish lips
Which in tiresome hours, everyone yearns
Tea time is the pleasant family time
How we babble and burble over a cup of tea
Drawing people closer, cementing relations
Sure, it’s a time to look forward with glee
Submitted for- A Brian Strand Standard Choice Poetry Contest
Placed First
April.22. 2022
Placed 9th
Anything You Want- New Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Chantelle Anne Cooke
Storm
Storm approaches with "wailing" winds
Fierce faced clouds "whoosh" across the sky
Lightning "crackles" then "snaps" and "pops"
Thunder "rumbles" with heart "pounding" "thuds."
Autumn leaves "scrape" across sidewalks
Then turn silver in torrent’s "rustle"
Windstorm "slams" into the trees
"Howling" "whispers" turns to "shivers"
Shutters "bang" in the "roaring" wind
Raindrops "sizzle" on dry earth
Downpours "splash" in growing puddles
Gutters "drip" – downspouts "gurgle."
Passing storm slows to a "trickle"
With "pitter-patters" of tiny raindrops
Water "drips" from leaves in clear "trickles"
Like a soothing fountain "burble."
Note: Am still having trouble with bold or underlining function so I put the onomatopoeia words in parenthesis.
10-26-21
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Contest: Onomatopoeia
Applauding sun’s halo~ inspiring, rewarding,
Mindfully I rise with the ebullient awakening
Letting soul enliven while robins are singing
And horizon crimson glimmers in dawning.
I hold time still for the blossoms of spring,
Rivers that burble sprucing green prairies
And blue tides bouncing summer’s revelry
And resplendent dazzle of autumnal leaves.
Every memento of love I treasure in delight,
In embrace of family, I cheer life sublime
Rejoicing when I sense success in their eyes
Celebrating milestones of things done right.
Realizing I own a mere fraction of eternity
Elated I feel holding just a speck of infinity
Succeeding more often than failing or quitting
Coping resolutely with poor hand of destiny.
I shun nightmares, choosing dreams of night
Lifting troubled mind when grief occupies,
When darkness rules, I invoke moonlit skies
And paint on visage of hope blissful smiles.
I yearn not for the ships that already sailed,
Regret not having tried the conquests I failed,
But I chase prospects of aspirations deferred
Yet, remain focused on things that matter.
July 20, 2021
Placed 1st: Motivation poetry contest
Sponsor: Shreya LN
Born as bird is a boon
Board on bees and bugs
Birdies burble a tune
Budge all blooms and buds
Flick! Flip!! Flap!!!
Bathe in becks and brooks
Best buddy of a baby
Blowing beaks of rooks
Make little ones crazy
Chitter! Chirp!! Clap!!!
Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Date: 11-03-2021.
Placed : 1 st
Oars slap the water,
a heron shoots a glassy eye
keeps fishing by doing nothing.
Its early, yet the sun
is crashing through the mist
intent on warming eggs
in lakeside nests.
Slap go the oars, splish and a splash,
and a clunk-swoosh-gurgle.
For a moment there is a white wake
then bubbles burble
I figure if I row very, very slowly
it will be a few minutes before breakfast.
By the time I reach the kitchen.
you will be dishing out bacon onto a plate
and I will be calling for sunny eggs.
Oar strokes slap more water,
but gently, ever so slow, and gentle.
moored in glade and rill
resting in claggy stodge
boggy green and juicy with rain
my walk sloshes with plunger feet
Mire of the Northern Rain Forest
May 16, 2020
Brians Choice G Poetry Contest
September 8, 2020
Rithimus Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gregory Barden
Explorations of cerebral fascination
Devilish ideas' mutated peregrinations
Spirited inhalations of tribal incantations
Torso-twisting through saucy peregrinations
Whilst the grimy sesame toast's torn asunder
Swashbuckling seafarers burble and blunder
Through Deli Yammer's roasted pickle bars de-acidified
n Arm n Hammer's blue-cabbage-power shake de-histified
If you think all this is rather hard to follow
Dr. Fauci's linking it in cuneiform on marshmallow
It was a Wednesday;
a day woven
into prison blankets and dish towels.
A day to assess hours unnoticed.
A time of trivial hungers.
The hard heft of earlier times: -
not fitting into anything,
teenage fluff and huff. Heartbreak,
rearing and loss. The fallow traipse of age.
The clinical clunk of clay feet.
Making room in a grave-yard moon,
for faces mislaid.
Those hard rows were all well hoed.
Washing a closed face in a misty mirror.
Listening to the coffee percolator.
trying to shave before its last burble,
ears catching the dark drops of a winter rain,
he creeps again too close
to a hole in his mind.
He should not be doing this still,
but the hole keeps tugging him.
He must keep throwing raw meat
into that roaring silence.
The hole is deep, and the end of it, is no end.
He wishes he could at least,
install an elevator.
for his ghosts to ride up and down on.
It would give him time
to drink more coffee, and write
some polite, well-adjusted poetry.
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