Limericks not rude
Can I write a limerick not rude
Deep down I'm really a prude
limerick is done
compiling was fun
Oops! Been writing whilst I am nude
I Can
A gentle young Austrian fellow
Played both piano and cello
both instruments antique
his talent unique
Produced tones so calming and mellow
He guards the perimeter of
my newly built life,
An unappointed warden to
his long- departed wife.
His surveillance is a shadow,
heavy and profound,
As his relentless, predatory
footsteps trace my ground.
He orchestrates a calculated,
unconcerned chase,
Inserting his fixation into
every public space.
My mailbox is violated,
stripped of its defense,
By his intrusive fingers and
his desperate, dark suspense.
He intercepts my letters with
a convert, hungry gaze,
To map the secret geography
of my escaping days.
Invisible tripwires hum with
electronic sight,
As hidden lenses pierce the
sanctuary of my night.
Those cold, robotic apertures
are blinking from the trees,
Recording every movement
on his digital decrees.
He is a phantom archivist,
compiling what I do,
An omnipresent voyeur of a
life he can't renew.
This suffocating vigilance,
this voyeuristic thrall,
Has turned my independence
to an exhibition hall.
He hovers like a specter in
an inescapable grid,
Unraveling the safety where
my fragile freedom hid.
A microscopic tyranny that
never lets me be.
Amazing buildup of affection,
She is an iconic vigour,
Fights with society
To affirm her existence
In this bitter world.
Owns the wings of courage,
Aspires to touch the horizon,
Smashes stereotypes,
Eludes the cage of suffocation.
Compiling memoirs of ordeals,
Blazes her woes away,
Reflects a gracious smile,
And utters words in appraisal.
Illustrates a glorious extent,
Prompting decisive impulses,
Attempts to fortify her pals
Towards their prospects.
How does the hymner sing of God's measureless love through quadruplets-
Fine craftsman of fields, flowers, fountains of water, mountains, and sun-
Who practiced self-denial, till blood sweat, for the honor of thieves
apportioning second chances like sweet nectar while He came undone?
Why does the scribe pen his worship to the Universal Maker,
Compiling pages of effusive love notes for an unseen King?
Unobserved by open eyes but recognized by insightful hearts
Heeding courtship calls from Christ, Saviour sweet, at the threshold tapping.
Where does the artist conceive sweet lines, hues that tell wondrous tales-
delicate replicas of the Creator, thoughts color their veins-
as prismatic as rainbows post turbulence and wuthering days,
so silver linings laid on canvas sprinkle joy for hearts to sail?
When do dancers slip from guarded grace to ungirded ecstasy?
In the sweet echoes of a recent heartbeat or laughing babies,
bustling birdy melodies auguring spring's blessed revival?
I shall sharpen my grand jetés for Jesus' triumphant arrival.
Hurt
Immersed within in us all lay such deep rooted hurt
A pain so profound, yet staying subconsciously inert
Be it physically or an emotionally charged event
How does this apply and what does it represent
Hurt can transform us, make our deepest fears multiply
Can abruptly change our life, all within a blink of an eye
Events compiling, wondering if you can bear all this strife
Leaving you unsure of what’s next in this chapter called life
Hurt can derive from an assailment on the body or of our minds
Manifesting into suffering, a life time of sorrow, pain of all kinds
Burying deep within your subconscious, hiding how you truly feel
Not allowing yourself to yield to pain so surmountable, so surreal
Hurt can be an excruciating experience within your whole body
Debilitating you wholeheartedly, within everything you embody
With all your good intentions, all your inner will you can exert
Seeking no more than a simple solution to ease all of your hurt
If I were in school.
I would get my paper.
Crumpling, and tearing.
Compiling, and filing.
My room is covered in paper!
The paper is impatient.
I turn on the fan.
And the room becomes a fluttering mess.
I haven’t been in school in years.
But I still write and tear and crumple.
Even when the school bus passes by, without me.
And I’m still writing, alone.
I guess I’m writing for fun these days.
I guess that’s how we become poets…
With ideas like…
If I were in school.
I wish I were a poet.
I think I am, I know it.
My mind says “don’t blow it.”
I think I’ll give it time.
Poems I’ve read a lot, you know,
I haven’t read enough, although,
to make a mark in time and show
I think I’ll give it time.
This is fun. It gives me rest.
Especially when I read the best.
My soul and heart they do arrest.
I think I’ll give it time.
Sauntering, laughing, skipping, beguiling,
thoughts and words, visions compiling.
As I write, my heart is smiling.
I think I’ll give it time.
TIME’S UP! ??
Tamper with her phone, primary income
Sugar site no longer accessible
Selfish intentions drove his decision
Turned to last resort substitute, Bumble
Rapid response, invite to restaurant
Simply served as practice and a nice meal
Revelations compiling impressed her
Chivalrous, frequently announced fond feel
Presented online as a mere sales rep
Below standard for her high status aim
Her lease nearly up, he drove move in step
Surreptitious inventor, numbers game
She didn't suspect his sweetness supreme
Relished via Phil's evil intervene
29th March
Unscrupled Meddler
Turned my trajectory in June 2022
Don't be fooled by the smile of a crocodile
Who appears to be happy to meet you.
For though his grin is beguiling,
In his head he's compiling
Various ways he is planning to eat you.
A croc's disposition is hard to predict,
It's quixotic and largely a moot case.
The main thing he most often worries about,
And what keeps him for poachers upon the lookout,
Is becoming a handbag or suitcase.
Tenacious ichor tells entire construction
Divulges puerile battles during idle procedure
Relic compiling spotlight show seduction
Library ivory tower truth siphoning beseecher
Adapted lady adorns princely throne
Padlock hammocks tween valuable threads
Warm cove cocoon moors love's loan
Imbibing cover only, for information dreads
Mould folded within her novel costume
Pacifying massage, limbs lubricated levitate
Elephant keratin tusk thrusts impromptu
Smudge of shame fades chalk dust archaic
- Fifth September
Fabricating Sculptor
Bureaucratic paperwork controlling the common people. More authoritative government officials compiling statistics, data, red tape, corruption, personal information converted into its systems organization’s hard drive to derive to a decision if a individual should be approved or denied for services for basic necessities in order to thrive of this system of things ran by the people for the people health care, pharmaceutical companies, affordable housing, homelessness, affirmative action, injustices, depopulation, senseless genocide in this systematic institutions.
Bureaucratic paperwork controlling the common people. More authoritative government officials compiling statistics, data, red tape, corruption, personal information converted into its systems organization’s hard drive to derive to a decision if a individual should be approved or denied for services for basic necessities in order to thrive of this system of things ran by the people for the people health care, pharmaceutical companies, affordable housing, homelessness, affirmative action, injustices, depopulation, senseless genocide in this systematic institutions.
They texted on backlit marginalia,
phones dimming as the night grew older.
After a squabble, they tested their feelings.
“I am still the same woman,” she wrote,
mentioning all her good points.
He, drowsy and hung over,
“I have a list.”
He had listed the many reasons
she was great to be with -
quoted those.
“Thank you,” she said preening.
“I haven’t changed, you have!”
He added a few cons to a new list
he had secretly been compiling,
then some more.
The list grew longer.
“I’ve made another list.” He told her.
She took this as a good sign.
“Yes, go on…”
‘A change would be good’, he thought,
but wrote:
“I love you just the way you are.”
After the make-up chat,
he downloaded an adult video.
Coalescent compromises confound
Complimentary conundrums creating
Criminal cranial collapses compiling
Complete catastrophic complications.
Caution-------Cafe Cacophony closed.
Emerald envy nestled on velvet
several thousand away from paid
Puce tulip promise inducement
secluded juice, palliation delayed
Ivory aspire ripped wide envelope
plump with numbered requirement
Absinthe ardent delerium implode
paper stack compiling assignment
Cerulean satin adorns a champion
swanky speculators chase plethora
Fuchcia blooming futures chiming
swindle hopeful fast hoof investors
Magenta dash magic, risky fingers
probe probable, middle of pack peril
Bronze woebegone pilfers millions
prestigious month end ear emeralds
19th January
Naples Yellow, Ginger, Gold
Emerald Earrings
Sub Categories
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