“The worst is feeling worthless.” Quote: Donald Glover
I tip the scales.
Life curtails.
In luminous light
To suffer delight.
Yielding bend.
New age trend.
Wanting to break.
Now awake.
Softly spoken.
Appearing broken.
Never cherished.
Hopes perished.
Always alone.
Hearts of stone.
Meandering.
Never pandering.
Solace is mine.
Gives me a sign.
I wander on.
Comfort gone.
Feeling free.
Serendipity.
Born of the earth.
Little worth.
Mother of mine.
Minds entwine.
Often mistake.
For angels sake.
Wishes plummet.
Unreachable summit.
Never to be.
Don’t pity me.
All forlorn.
Vow is sworn.
Radical change.
Must rearrange.
Nights slip by.
Wondering why.
Wander to edges.
Witness alleges.
Of life’s torment.
Self can only repent.
Watching the clock.
Taking stock.
Time is tragic.
Feel the magic.
Wont commence.
Its all pretense.
Solitary one knows.
Let the door close.
Beat a different drum.
Let the doubters come.
Find my heart.
Don’t let teardrops start.
Bequeath to me.
All that’s free.
Guide me to bliss.
A lollypop kiss.
The forlorn sorrows.
Yesterday’s tomorrows.
Of this earth.
Absolutely no worth.
The curtain curtails
as it becomes a hazed colored veil
covering the reflective gaze of ice-covered snow gale;
a glaze ablaze with light dazzled ready to ignite
brilliant, blinding, purest incandescent white
barely warming from distant glowing sunlight;
a gleaming glistening iridescent flow of virgin white
an elusive lucid momentary delight in flight
lost in a glacial granules thaw of pristine innocent delight;
just another February storm laid upon the ground now
silent hushed from the stormy rebound of the human plow
and all is quiet in the furrows of winter's brow.
Splendid past cherished with ardent moments,
Quest and thirst for wisdom transformed the world.
Service and solace were their rudiments,
Growth and values were together mingled.
The predicament present of evils,
Corruption and bias are the fetters.
Dreaded thunderbolts on humane morals,
Awake and break the disgraceful shutters.
Empathy survives and comforts people
Parity - the precept of universe,
Curtails nasty thoughts those make us feeble,
Don't get perished by the merciless curse.
A better tomorrow with perfections,
Fuse the fragrance of love to our actions.
A better tomorrow Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Date: 22-09-2020
Place : 4th
Whilst life tales do rehash passed remarks
chilly winds do come with aching darkness
that curtails of forlorn
moments of what's fitting.
Can a taste of the wind 's breath
bend lifetime like a blade of grass?
5/27/2020
Having Faith
Written: by Tom Wright
8-15-2016
All matters must begin with a single step,
And often our uncertainty holds us back.
Even in our thoughts we may dutifully prep,
Lack of faith curtails our ability to attack.
Does music have a language,
does feeling have a name
Is love the sole survivor
that calls beyond the grave
Do excuses have a reason
for the falsehoods that they spew
Does honor have a season
to restore the faith you knew
Do all mothers have a father
or just sons to tell their tale
Do all preachers write their sermons
to rehash what God curtails
Are the words then just a token
when cast out from the heart
Is judgment left unspoken
with belief cut up in parts
Is direction now forbidden
and all meaning thusly doomed
Is laughter all but hidden
with its smile partly groomed
Is today beyond tomorrow
and why replaced with how
Do the questions feign an answer
indecision—your last vow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
Dragontails never ask why
Spiky fronds so scaly
Oh My – Oh My
Lurking shady and shaly
In the dark unfurls
Spiky fronds so scaly
Swirly ferns and curls
Deep greenish and purplish
In the dark unfurls
Close your eyes to make a wish
Wild whirls ever so rare
Deep greenish and purplish
Without a whisper or a care
Bizarre long and curly avails
Wild whirls ever so rare
Whimsically curtails
Dragontails never ask why
Dreamy magical dragon tales
Oh My – Oh My
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on May 4, 2018 for DANDELIONS TIGER LILIES AND BEARBERRIES OH MY CONTEST sponsored by MAUREEN MCGREAVY - RANKED 6TH
Clicking on all cylinders, must be the weather
Though wetter than usual, this summer's been better
For outdoor festivities
It curtails activities
Not as steamy, where do I send my thank you letter?
Tragic the play that tells a lot,
Reaching to touch in myriad ways;
Yes comic say can string strange plot.
Sense words that smudge contrary stray,
Hurl senses far in dance and song,
Address the feel of such extremes;
Keep glimpse on par with weak and strong,
Exult the will and heart to whim;
So words fashion such diverse space,
People that come and go away;
Each fields passion that fools now trace,
Apt such strange sums that men portray;
Ripe tragedy storms what curtails,
Etch comedy that never fails.
Leon Enriquez
03 May 2015
Singapore
The signs are all around me—
skies are suddenly gray-white,
and I smell snow is coming,
maybe on this very night…
************************
What is this ambiance of awe
when viewing those first flakes
swirling softly t’ward the earth—
a white blanket soon to make?
It’s not as tho’, these many years,
I’ve not witnessed this same scene—
snow piling high on field and trees,
and grass no longer green.
There is no explanation
for the pleasure I now feel
as I listen to this old house creak,
and think it no big deal.
The warmth and coziness inside
is multiplied ten-fold,
and I treasure it above those things
bought with purest gold.
Each flake serves such purpose
as it tumbles to the ground
covering seeds and crops to yield
while making nary a sound.
Protection from the temperatures
dipping way down low—
snow insulating ground from frost
spread liberally e’re it goes.
And I, like many others,
who endure long months of snow,
get weary of it later on
when it curtails where I go.
But oh, thru’ frosted window pane
reflecting fireplace glow,
it fills my heart with wonder,
as I welcome the first snow.
Tamara Hillman
©2011
No words from my mouth,
no sound uttered from my lips,
silence, sweet succumbing silence
it clears one mind from unnerving thoughts
curtails curiosity, creates a refuge
where one may stand still
in comfortable unmoved limbo
I will not stand for what is right,
or what is wrong;
I will not choose between the two
My opinions matter not,
nor will I make my thoughts known
But neutrality never satisfies
submersed secreting anger lies beneath its surface
no stance at all is still a stance,
one accomplishing nothing,
yet provoking both sides
to war with it
Pretty lies that you utter capture me
Your words hypnotize me
My better judgment begs me to dismiss your vocal declarations
You have me wrapped around your little finger
Spinning me around and around
Wrapping me tighter, getting a closer grip on me.
The power and control you have over me is overwhelming.
I hate you but I jump at your every command.
I want you more because of your rejection.
You play me like a violin and tug on the strings to control this puppet's every move
Waiting around for you
My schedule curtails to yours
Discouraged enough I try harder
But again I am dismissed
To look at you I see no splendor
Nothing special, not in the slightest
Not one magical quality
That could explain this phenomena
Stuck on this bus to Looserville
Cannot escape from your calamity
Want to be free of you, stop believing all your pretty lies
You are nothing and I know that now. Sienara baby.
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