Remembrance for a choker in my deathbed
(Read-only version, a knick-knack too)
Precious finger, the witnessing one, Count
The forehead of a pious one, leaving a mark
Glowing along days and nights, prayer mats, in trying times
And prayers at dusk. Prayers valid till the sternest hairline dawn.
I touched his forehead, long past after the soul is gone.
He was the only one in my life, the only one of his capable kind.
He was the stubbornest hand holding me and mom inside an elevator
He was scrutinizing the sky to let me fly, however superficial it may sound.
I got wiser through all these years. I earned wisdom.
In turning grayer hair colors too, underneath the head scarf.
You will see my purple there, but I will label it as a purple heart.
Torn tears are in sheets of Facial tissues, also, in mourning mistakes, never to be known.
Just for my persuasive temptation, for the next one,
How many harms roads are there along the enlightenment highway in one full Cloverleaf, the old one?
Categories:
cloverleaf, care,
Form: Free verse
Cattleman's pride
who put the bounty
on the head of the
Danger City Cowboy?
somebody said something
and those Varmitts responded to it.
Otters curiosity.
Texas Cloverleaf......
Belgian Blue, Angus Piedmontese, Salers, Barzuna, Hasserdolt, Charbracy, Senpol,Parthenaise,Maremmana,Sussex, Simmental.......
Bach-Ouse.BrineFast........Grollop,differentate between wisdom and experience.ayam,feral,asil,silkie,Bramhma
. ...;;;;
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;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; LadyRhith Meatus!
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;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; Soundwave!!
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( ah whoonka, whoonka! ah whoonka whoomp!)
whoomp, whoomp, whoomp, whoomp!
Categories:
cloverleaf, culture, farm, jobs, music,
Form: Ballad
There is a lark who is born to live in the meadow,
perched far above the smooth mountain stones.
She will rise from fields of the cloverleaf cradles,
with a foxglove petal, riding her wings.
A feather she's worn, will flutter on down,
to welcome us here, and to tickle our nose.
With a moment to cling, it is soft as a dream;
then it lifts into streams, of the sweet morning breeze.
She must sing from the heart, to awaken the dawn.
Her valor will linger, in the late morning sun.
Her tempo, announces a thaw in the spring,
Bringing a promise, of flowers and green.
Her voice has a cadence, a solo, ascending,
that comes with an encore, tremolos impending,
so fragile, it harks as a piccolo, playing.
She circles at dawn, to wake you and cheer you.
But at sundown, she croons, a soprano to soothe you.
She's a lark from a meadow, that mellows the heart
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Categories:
cloverleaf, bird, nature,
Form: Personification
there is no other love
one is water on the mind of my soul
it is never truly magic until created through the work required
now here we are....living together but homeless within the dwelling
the internal guessing games becomes similar to trivial persuit
our individual vision are now mostly consumed with wondering
if i could build a greenhouse in the center of your mind
lavender vibes would overtake the musty afterthoughts previously thought to be nonexistent
u-turns and cloverleaf interchanges would merge needfully to make our way back to the essence of our genuine love's roots
when the water is spread
and the magic has mesmerized
the overall conclusion formed is that the square root of love....is love....like no other....
Categories:
cloverleaf, love,
Form: Free verse
The old red barn, standing mute for years,
still sporting the squeaky weather vane.
Its paint long cracked and peeling,
now all but disappeared.
Six generations of father, son, and grandson
have worried and fussed over its care,
resisting temptations to renew, rebuild,
or remodel the symbol of heart and soul.
The farm foreclosed for back taxes,
now twenty acres remain of six hundred.
The old Massey Ferguson now long quiet,
too large to plow the small garden worked.
Too expensive to get it running anyway,
the sentimental attachment, greater than worth.
A tear slowly traversed the young owner’s cheek
as he signed the transfer to the restaurant chain.
The barn would have to be moved to make
room for a ramp off of the new cloverleaf.
© Oct 5 2010 For Rick's "the old red barn" contest
Categories:
cloverleaf, lossold, old, red,
Form: Couplet
High bridge to nowhere
Missing main accoutrements
Road and Cloverleaf
© Apr 11 2010
Categories:
cloverleaf, nature
Form: Senryu
He was
crying
and wouldn’t take dinner,
so,
huddled off and
to the side,
the three of us we stop
and watch kids
two-hand pitching
over gravel,
then walk on.
This old block -
the architecture
is not the same…
- was this it?
where we fumbled
in her V-dub,
laugh-drunk,
unworried
about
upholstered mud
or taxes?
this where we
played
and got late
for dinner?… -
by the teal house,
I hear young numb knuckles
scrape around
for warmth
or wisdom.
It is too dark.
My hip hurts.
I decide we three should turn back.
On the way home,
I thought I saw an old friend
by streetlight.
Categories:
cloverleaf, family, introspection, nostalgiaold, old,
Form: Free verse
It is from my thoughts you have come
It is from within sensation that you have become
Yet…It is I who feels brought, it is I who is befalling,
Transpiring into what is beyond sentiment
Grasped in your presence, that in form is
A cloverleaf, an intersection of all
Realities and chimeras
Yet…In feeling, it is the winter, summer, autumn
And spring that season my years
Imane… afar the distances I yearn to reach, upon
The horizons of your outlying skies…
Shall we meet one day?
Or is it only the tip of my pen that foresees?
I shall only linger…upon these many pages
-Imane: An Arabic female given name which means Faith; Pronounced (E.man).
-Imane is the main character of a novel I happen to be writing. I have never been in such
marvelous experience before :)
Categories:
cloverleaf, adventure, art, introspection, life
Form: Free verse