Did we really dabble daily?
You must be hyper-delirious!
Is it the posit in my eyes;
the recent rosy surprises?
Honeymooners might silkily slide
and slip sleepily into such dreams,
remembered. Still
such thoughts bring to mind
those early reclines of young love.
I can picture you in your red threads,
unveiling of slim
and vainglorious muscles,
the hustle of prowess.
Our steamy windows,
the firsts, the thirsts,
the pinpoint of lusty eyes,
the thrust of vigor.
Do we dabble daily
in linking love,
hand in hand;
the saxophone hums.
Together we slide
through the love tunnel
in the dark,
dangerously drifting
toward the eternal waterfall;
the climax.
Happy faces smile and revel, never silent.
All signs and phases reveal, sadness absent.
Love, your heart carries and winkle
Lots and more you show and sprinkle.
On chairs and tables you sit on and dine,
World in bubbles of eon never whine.
Every bubble moves in silence that dabble and waft,
Eyes and ears that never rest on a moving raft.
Noises from everywhere pranking your heart, drifting so bright... don't forget to blink and sleep on this darkest night!
I don’t think I’ll ever bleed
a thing so silly as poetry
For life is far too short for me
to dabble in tomfoolery
Why, first I must prepare to make a living
about that I have no misgivings
And raise a family with my wife
to leave a legacy behind in life
Yet maybe, just perhaps, If I weren’t so busy
I’d write about the time I fought a grizzly
Even on subjects heretofore taboo... and
Possibly, like A.E. Milne, one on Winnie-the-Pooh
Hmm. It seems that I’ve been mistaken all along
I think I shall bleed poetry ~ every night and all day long
.
I hear nothing but the
Cold wind
Whizzing past my
Ears
Likewise
It's brush against your
Visage's curtain
Exposing voluptuous
Your lips
I see the cold's effect
Upon your breast's
Titillating raiment
I see the wind hath
Caused the scatter of
Every your
Gold and sand
Tresses
Aye
Cloak and dagger
Left at your billet's
Entry
I taste
Beyond my
Express
Desperate ours
Enhancing your boudoir
Drapes retracted
Opened panes
The biting wind
Upon your settee
Rolls with ours
* rrrr, no, this ain't no "AI"
'tiz 'fore edvard'z dabble
into cant///that be, tuh
spell it's speak...'tiz alwayz
been mine babble...well,
until mine 2nd wife learn'd
me how tuh speak y'all..lol
much love ")
.
if'n my thinks
'bout it
mine print digits
tap
and
i
spill
she me
her
dribble drip
dabble
daily
tap
Rushed me into
Relations
A full detication
You something
Else
, I just wanted
You to know
You've got my
Attention
Hey should I mention
There are some
Exotic places we
Still can go
Bikini beaches
Far fetched reaches
There is one thing
I wish you to know
I really like you
Thought you should
Know
We skip dolly dew
And pause see mally
My dew
We ooh we dobble
May feel
Retreat to say
What we feel
We ooh ah dobble
Mc reel
We dance to the
Repeal
We applaud and we
Dance
We, opp to the chance
Of love..... We ooh we
Dobble appeal
We act like fiction is
Real
We dabble in love
We speak it till
It's right
We call it ah night
We fucc like
We're in love
soft and spoiled
devices well-oiled
spoonfed babble
in protests, they dabble
convictions untested
by reality bested
today’s mudslingers ~
tomorrow’s right-wingers
something small almost imperceptible is crawling across the porch
I have to get closer to see it; it is a tiny bug, so small it has no color
I wonder if my dogs have noticed; but they are asleep, not caring
leaves of my lilac tree capture my attention next; they seem to shimmer.
a different color on the back, kind of a silver sheen.
a tiny wren or sparrow flies downward; this interests me.
Birds usually fly up, unless there is rain water to dabble in.
This one landed on the edge of the cat door and promptly went inside.
Does she have a nest in my garage? This was curious.
She went in that flap as if it was her flap.
there is a whoo whoo whoo sound now
an owl in the afternoon? My ears struggle to hear.
Yes, it is an owl. In the day time? They are nocturnal!
Whoo Whoo Whoo; a third call.
This was remarkable.
A large shadow of a raptor brings my eyes skyward.
It is huge, black, a turkey buzzard?
Now there are two, now three, my final count is six.
They are circling above the marsh. Is there something dead?
I shudder.
One of my dogs is having a daymare. He is shuddering.
I lean down and pat him a bit, to reassure him.
May the earth reject it..Let the mountains dance..For the
God of all universes will break this trance.' No more shall
You dabble..' instead you will ride, the road of rejection in
Pain you will writhe.' You have sullied creation.'
Now.! You are to be judged in your pride.!
Fragmented.
We all have those thoughts.
The dots that become squares again.
And again.
Someone I would have remembered,
If my mind wasn’t so filled with measurements.
I dabble here and there.
Spilling.
Everything is a slice of cheese.
More slices, from the same block.
Shaping wire for no reason.
Eating too much then I can’t remember what I was even eating.
Fragmented.
Where rules become more rules.
Become fewer rules, and spirals.
A mind like mine.
Gets older more quickly than most.
We all have those thoughts.
All of them.
Brackish lichen forms a raft upon the pond,
a low haze floats like a moored airship.
Small frogs chirrup sotto-voce
as if they were
dreaming sparrows.
Water birds dabble in their sleep.
Soon the sun
will dash across a drop of dew
bursting dams of light.
A fisherman in his truck
drinks his coffee,
rubs his eyes and smacks his lips.
He grabs rod and tackle,
hopes fat fish are lazily
rising.
Feathers shake off waterlogged shadows,
wings slap the groggy face of the pond,
ripples splash up
to rinse the air.
Coots and Plover call
until the water
awakes.
I can feel it in my bones
ringing in my ears
the words I long to utter
the things I hold near
For a long time I held them close
did not say them aloud
I learned to pen them into poems
But the words learned how to escape
they clawed and they scrabbled
and eventually it was even in song
that I learned to dabble
And now the words come out
sometimes even without me thinking
I reply in song or poem
call it what you will
They just bubble up
from the depths of me
out in rhymes and hymns
sonnets and whims
And I have made friends
confessed my many sins
go on with life
less burdened
but deeper in conscious thought
©The words found a way 4/03/2025 - Artimus Susan Manley All Rights Reserved
her charcoal mind makes meaning of colors
Favorites included turquoise, orange and yellow
Red is always prominent in her frontal lobe
Dancing and singing, leading her into her own society
She used to dabble in cobalt but there was insanity in it
A poison that can turn your dendrites into mush, right?
No one has ever used the word serene or calm to describe her art.
A mental picture appears as her muse subconsciously creates.
She feels she is clear-headed, though there is insanity in her family
Her artwork is continuously clever, concise, and colorful
People respond to it on an aesthetic plane
Red leads the way
Perhaps time will smooth the rough edges
Memory soften the toughness of his words
But now they must wrap him in moment’s lie
Bathe him in a flow of moistened myths
Will any speak of who he really was
Chuckle at his insensitivity
Mask the folly of his arrogance
Tickle the timber of his humility
Will they dabble in theories of life’s meaning
Standing on the abyss of time’s canyon
Or focus on the meaning of his life
His presence, his laughter, his sharp wittiness
We know he would not care for flowers or bagpipes
Would tolerate quiet sadness
Perhaps an unintentional chuckle
At a whispered one liner
He would not care for too many prayers
Would love those “remember that time” stories
For they let him find a way to say farewell
Knowing that he left you all a piece of his self
Catch the waves
Before they go
Catch the waves
Gentle, quiet.
Catch them quick
Dabble, ripple in them
And set asail –
On your journey afresh
Before they rage
In mountainous forms
Of dark fury
And fiery froths –
Before they rock the
Ship asunder –
Devouring, consuming
In their haunting forms –
Shattering great castles
Of dreaming sands –
Crashing the Titanic
Into those calm, fallen dreams –
Go catch the waves
Gentle, quiet
Catch them, now
Before they go.
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