Cylinders Poems | Examples

Ranges of Scenarios

Has anyone played this game of tug of war?

Ideals, Overthinking,  Sanity,  Insanity. 

Energetic vibrations of six six-cylinders of emotions:
Fear, Sadness, Anger, Disgust, Surprise, Happiness. 

I choose not to dance with reckless behavior. 

We've all had both light and darkness inside of us.

A game of chance, also a game of choices, choose
Discerningly.

Mind

What is it that goes into a poet's mind?
Well, I'll tell you, its deep man, I mean it's really deep 
It's so deep that when we write we write deep 
The thoughts we think we think deep
And yet, 
within in a split second-
a *Spark- something switches 
Something ignites; thoughts burn our brains 
The cinders inside us burn our cylinders 
Thinking thoughts over and over, and over and over 
Thinking facts, thinking fiction, thinking the unimaginable and 
the imaginable, the what ifs, and the what if nots 
We think what we think is thinkably unthinkable
We make sense out of the unsensible  
We go out there, and man, we go way out there
We go to the limits, to space, to the place  
To the place where all poets go
To the place where anything can happen or unhappen 
To our own little worlds 
To our world's,
where we can even make horses of a different color' real 
Mind you, what goes into a poet's mind 
Mind goes into it, man 
Mind

Pyramids of Love

I remember Cleopatra's moon,
as triangles of time 
unveiled pyramids embalmed in
juniper, incensing golden dreams.

While in desolate dunes 
of the sunrise Sahara,
I've engraved your initials 
with pearls and diamonds.

For in lunar silence 
when cylinders of stars 
embellish skies with hieroglyphics, 
destined twin flames ascend.

You’ll remain a musical~
maestro, choreographing our pilgrimage 
to attain heaven beneath  
henna herbs of love.

Quilling the Spill

At last,
Education stood to teach.

Acres of agonizing memory.
Hectares of Hecate,
Tripling in advance of nonsense.

Peering round and round in vertical cylinders.

Spun web-less in a lore of forgotten before.
And after, for the sake-less now.

Trudging on to prevent neither from creeping upon the self.
The worry.
The memory of anamnesis to approach.
Guided by prodding pasts and redundant fates.

Ghosts are pasts pretending themselves futures.
Watching the agony unravel from the serfdom of their such.

A medium simply sees the swirl,
And laughs at the penchant for unlit prospects.
Adorning torches to hide lights from contemporary photonics.

I've sieved the lumens. 
Sheathed it for sequestered seconds in advance of past, present, and posterity. 

Commas written in Oxford language, knowing that a next is sure to follow.

Pretentious: yes.
Shallow: may-haps.
Yet perchance the parchment rolls on, flicked by feathers of ephemera once deigned to be feared.

Feathers quacking on in timid and oily idleness.

There's no point anyways, to a quill, without the spill of ink.

Summertime

SUMMERTIME

Summertime, most glorious time, short lived
intense season, in which God’s glorified.
Nature is firing on all cylinders,
flora, fauna flourishing … not denied.

Time to savor fresh air, breath barefooted,
notice, clear babbling brooks calming sound.
The multitude of fragrances in air, 
summer rainbows and thunderstorms … abound.

Summer, offers variety things do,
time to fire up the grill.
Time to stroll shore as sun starts to slumber,
brilliant flaming hues … all part of God’s will.

Summer has included sunburns, sunglasses,
including shock … received a few passes.

July 23, 2023
Contest: SUMMERTIME
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh

Growing Tradition

  Growing the fruits of your labor in Socorro county
  Around here they call it New Mexico true
  Down in Lemitar you can get the best of the best
  The warm days' and cool nights, the fields of green chile grew

  This crop has become known worldwide in places afar
  Dedicated day and night to it being a successful harvest
  Long hours and true love of this way of life they embrace
  The chile, beautiful and mature, it's the hot days' of August

  Sacks of burlap full to the top begin the journey across the state
  Crack of the burners, metal cylinders turn, roasted green chile fills the air
  This smell, it is nothing short of heaven on earth
  Our call to fame with a little New Mexico flare

  The season is short, late Autumn wind blows the dust off a cowboys boots
  The chile turns deep red now, the last of the season
  The ground is bare as I take one last look across the land
  The Zia on our flag gives me pride, that's my reason

  Why things happen, well who's to say
  Perhaps the fields will be green again someday
  A hurt in my heart, I lower my Stetson and walk away
  The fields belong to spirit now, looking in the distance I see the rain

Hissing Swishing Rumbling

Hissing cars
Swishing trucks
Rumbling bikes
Life is a highway
Really?
Combusting cylinders 
Pumping pistons
Turning crankshaft
Spinning flywheel
Engaging transmission
Motoring drive
Tranferring power 
Rolling tires
Hissing 
Swishing 
Rumbling  
Crash and burn
Life goes on

Hell Is Freezing Overtime

paralyzed in 
hellishly cold
confining space
pummeled by cruel 
icy shards 

feeling lost & unfound
waiting to get lost as
the past cries
the present sighs &
the future screams

the days collapse into
another expiring year
in the Wild Wild western 
& northern hemispheres
bleeding through bullet holes

Apocalypse Not Yet
brace for frigid impact
paradise is hopelessly lost
deluded dinosaurs roam the earth 
Big Tech is Watching

Better Text a Crazy Poet
with lunatic visions 
of radiant plasma 
flowing in the craters of
a brain misfiring on all cylinders

Think

Seek for truth in the inward parts
out of our mouth make sure is TRUE
that’s what edifies our whole character
truth is what’s wanted on view

Are we really the helping kind?
going out of your way to be HELPFUL
that should be our motto in life
so that we live by this golden rule

Consider much all that we say
to others ears is it truly INSPIRING?
Make it to lift other folk's heart
So all their cylinders are firing

Do we consider what’s the purpose?
these words are they really NEEDED?
make sure they prove worthwhile
not just wasted but wholly treated

It’s so good to have a merciful heart
to look out for others and be KIND
folks respond to that attitude
it’s like a lost coin that you find

So THINK long and really hard
put this motto always in your mind
keep it close so use it often
change this world for a better kind


(This is an old one from 2016

an inspiring motto for life.
True
Helpful
Inspiring
Needed
Kind
Ask yourself, are these things true of me so THINK.)

I Got It Going On

I’m in my prime,
just now finding my steps,
working on all four cylinders,
I’m a pistol, as sharp as a pin.
I’m not Joe Biden
I look younger in aviators.
My teeth are brand new
and who needs hair plugs?
I’m a spry 71, almost limber
just a little less stiff than timber.
Mockingbirds wolf-whistle me
as I jump out from a bush
to force some sage advice 
down some 50-something
whippersnappers throat.

Nasa's Thrift's Adrift

5...4...3...2...1...0...
 Ignition...Rockets firing...
 Lift-off...We have lift-off...

 The three-stage rocket strains upward
 gathering momentum each second
 Firing away on all cylinders now
 gentle palm trees melt down in her wake

 All systems go... the capsule's on its way
 to the far side of Jupiter some day

 to explore rocky promontories
 and sizzling-hot lakes of molten lava

 to take photos and grab dirt samples
 for 'all that' this project's cost ~ ample

The Air

The air
 

When it pours, I dissolve.
During heat, I resolve.
I’m more amongst greens.
I’m there in every scene.
The coolest, never on rest.
In motion, with no emotion.
Neither fixed destination.
Unstoppable I flow,
I flow, I flow.

 

I peep in through the ventilations,
a part of me, I drop in there.
I flee in glee, from cities to live,
where staled and fatigued, I’m stabbed to give,
to give a portion with no hesitation,
to let survive, I move with a flair,
to inhale, to relieve, to breathe in fresh air.
Unstoppable I flow,
I flow, I flow.

 

For all the youth, I’m young.
To the aged, I’m old.
Whn vexed on earth,
I’m furious to be mould.
In swirls, like a drunkard I move ,
to run, to destroy the houses, the roofs.
Unstoppable I flow,
I flow, I flow.

 

I embrace with hugs,
the ones who lives.
Not a trace I give,
to the ones who leave.
In cylinders, I’m trapped.
On plants I’m overlapped.
When freshly consumed, you glow.
Unstoppable I flow,
I flow, I flow.

Are My Last Legs In Sight - Question Mark

Are my Last Legs in Sight?

Are my ‘Last Legs’ in Sight?

My time’s ‘last legs?’ Are knees (or some cylinders knocking)?
I’ve petal to metal (feel stuck in low gears).
Left side’s window won’t open; oil under hood freshens
cab air (is it dripping, perhaps, on exhaust?)
Of late, dipstick’s plumb rusty (indecent exposure
to liquids that pampering doesn’t restrain).
And my faith in what’s up too counts less than what’s grounded
where tread on ground flagellates brain’s flag in sky.

I love days where I spend time on porch now just rocking,
greet neighbors who come by, friends gained with the years,
and I’ve more time for feelings; poetic expressions
arriving get tenure, and fewer are lost.
Some voice praise for my verse, some eyes glaze (full disclosure).
First group wins blue ribbons as friends of left brain.
I sure hope that this poem’s read’s fun (none feel pounded)
for no one enjoys life’s true friends more than I!


Brian Johnston
7th of April in 2022

Poem of the Day

You asked me for a poem today.
I raised the roof of my skull 
like the hood of a jalopy,
I replaced the sparkplugs and 
Revved my six cylinders, smoking 
Choking an unbreathable cloud, 
My tarnished shroud.

You asked me for a poem today,
And here I am full of meager
Moments where I once savored 
Modest madness. Where I neglected
Love and paid up with hungry longing,
All my regrets for reckless crimes.

You ask me for a poem today.
Just one day, a poem!
But all poems are made somewhere in the stars,
Carrying ships of perfumes and refracted prisms,
They know no start or end,
They violate all clocks and calendars.
I won’t know when the words stop flowing.
You might catch it if they do.

The Blessings of Your Love Babe

You was my Baby Girl and I was your White Stallion
Together we overcame some of our darkest days 
There's not a single soul in Hell that could ever change 
The way I feel about you girl
Because I'm feeling strange 
Without you it's like I'm missing a fuze to my brain
Don't get confused all my cylinders are hitting
But my heart is sprang
I hate to tell you the truth but I can't lie
Ever since I got the news I been wanting to die
There's not a single person on this earth that can save now
I rebelled against my Father and He threw me out
Will the Heavens ever take me back up again
Ever since I got locked up I been practicing 
To be a better person to show you I really care 
Sometimes I feel uncertain about this pain I bare
But my inner desires are very plain
I only desire the Blessings of your Love Babe

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