His heart sinks to his boots
at the mountian of work that suits -
much are rejectable at first glance -
but some needs a second glance.
The majority is best described as 'fortnight tea'.
Getting to grips with diffent registers,
varied poetic voices and levels of growth,
make for a couldron of flavours
catering for differnent tastes -
editors are expected to wear many hats.
This is before rhyme can be checked -
mistakes are argued away as poetic licence -
and getting to grips with dialect
and varied stressed syllables ...
This is just scratching the surface.
AI can be helpful - up to a point:
It does not 'get' idiom and many metaphor
which the more seasoned poet employs.
Poetry is a living, breathing medium -
it can't be difined by an algorithm.
The flawless Nebraskan sky hummed her blue tunes as I drove to work along that silent gravel road. Elegant white clouds wept as they gazed upon the chaos and dead innocence unfolding across the country.
I stared ahead as adrenaline carried me toward town and the need to begin again. The sounds of screams that had jolted me from my television still jolted my heart. Fireballs of horror exploded within my frightened soul.
Hours passed as I tortured my mind with gruesome details no one should ever have to know. Falling bodies and broiled flesh were too horrifying to imagine. The thought of a looming war was beyond my comprehension.
One quarter of a century has passed since that unimaginable Day.
If you don't remember that Day, then I envy you.
If you do remember that Day, then I hope Peace has adopted you.
There’s a guy with the funniest chair,
and an unfortunate lacking of hair.
He always plants his ass
in the back of the class,
and his name is Dave Crandall. So, there.
They say Dave was a major in math,
but his life took an alternate path.
He suffered boredom, severe,
in an IT career,
and, on retiring, felt need for a bath.
Being no longer youthful or limber,
he moved to Leisure World one September,
where, as an old fart,
he found writing and art.
At least, that’s what he can remember.
If he was lost on a deserted isle,
art and writing would not make him smile.
He’d need folk music for that
and a wide-brimmed straw hat
to shield his head in this lone domicile.
Day in Night
Starlit diamonds pinprick opaque night
and planets punctuate darkness. The Milky
Way in clear desert skies traverses a distant
galaxy. The perfect orb moon, earth’s companion
refuses to surrender her bright beacon at night,
does so only reluctantly, in fingernail phases.
Her lunar light pierces clouds to kiss moving
waves, cast shadows on all she may touch.
Fireflies flicker, snowy owls hoot, cream blanches
coffee, till dawn reclaims cerulean skies.
The green color of the bay looks so refreshing and cold. The boats speeding across the surface of the water look fun, scary, and exciting. The sun feels warm on my skin. The boats make different sounds. The sparkly water looks magical and pretty.A sailboat is gliding over the wavy waters, heading to a new destination. Airplanes that only fly in the sky, high above land or water also head towards a new but familiar destination, to drop off the passengers that are on that plane at an airport. A gorgeous March day on Saturday has so many different places to look at and see. The wind feels wonderful, cooling your hot and sweaty body down.
Sun's warmth spiritual healing
Another day in paradise
Our dear loved ones
Are having
And we are happy
That God are taking care
Of then
We don't have to worry
Anymore because
They are in good hands
At night our loved ones
Sleep in a brass bed
Also they never wake up
Once during the night
They sleep like a log
Our loved ones have no
Problem sleeping
Waking up every day freezing cold
Feeling way lower than low
Feet hurt from walking,
cause you got nowhere to go
Everything you own in tow
Wishing you would have just known how to grow and let go of all of the pain and hurt
that encompassed your soul
And kept you from ever feeling whole
As long as you can remember,
You just wanted to be loved
But since the day you were born,
your mother made sure you knew
you would never be enough.
And every time push came to shove
You always came up short
from whatever it was
shtt fckn rough..
life always been way too tough.
Never known even an ounce of luck.
Trying so hard to give a fckk.
Prayin to have a chance to come up
But it seems ya missed that truck
On a dead end,one way road
.....just stuck
The hunter and the hunted
Animal instinct is confronted
Eyes of a hawk, and Indian walk
Blending into the sound of nature
Silence, patience are no virtue here
It's a way of survival it may appear
Many brave men have tried to tame the land
A few have fallen while trying to stand
As the sun touches the horizon
It ends the battle between man and beast
Nature calls the wild home to rest
Soon the sun will appear in the east
The pages are forever being written
Of legends great and small
The truth maybe stretched
And wearing many veils
As the stories grow tall into tales
........see you next year
A rush of wind came through my hair one minute I'm in bed the next I'm in thin air.
Laying supine with eyes scattered here and there the stars are scattered everywhere.
I hear a voice in tetronic style that migrates from my ears to my wandering mind
"What is your binary code?" it asks, it is needless to say my memory has gone blind
Earlier that day I had done an MRI, soon they sent me home to wait for the results
Since I was scared it may have been just imagination but here is the kick and catapult
It spoke to my heart with alien power and I heard it with extra-sensory perception
They told the MRI machine was a result of their input knowledge and intervention.
True Story...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One stormy day in Texas the sky cracked open like a cheap piñata,
Jalapeño hail lashed the bluebonnets—goodbye, pretty blooms hasta la vista!
Rain turned to spicy salsa, rivers into ice-cold Lone Star Beer.
Cowpokes huddled together, prayin’ in the cactus-flavored air.
Pa’s prize longhorns blew away, where they went he had no idea
Eventually landed in Dallas yellin', "Y'all seen my tortillas?"
Crick rose up where three armadillos was sharin' one floatie.
Were heard to ask, “Where’s our guacamole?” ¡Olé!
Here we are in eastern Pembrokeshire
taking a wander round Narberth
a little market town on the A78
it's so lovely, I had to write a little verse
Its High Street has variety around
with Georgian and Edwardian multi colour
buildings of character, they are
echoes of beauty make them a stunner
Lilies coffee shop is a must
so helpful and happy to receive
cakes and light lunch so fab
coffee's marvel, you won't believe
Independent shops abound here
from deli food to fine art
woodland walks and sandy beaches
lie only minutes away to start
This has been a day most excellent
one to remember for many a day
memories are made of such as these
even to the point of wanting to stay
(Just looking back a few weeks ago on holiday in South Wales coast to a lovely town called Narberth.)
if there was ever a perfect day
this one is here, today, visiting me in Kansas
it’s not hot, not cold
there’s a bit of a breeze, kissing me softly
I scared off a mosquito before it bit me
a bird is joyfully tweeting
I am mobile
I can walk
I can see
my eyes are good
not great, but passable
two puppies lie at my feet, letting me be their queen
my tummy is full
a perfect day
A BUSY DAY IN NATURE
Spiders building webs…
Maggots metamorphosing…
Free flies flip flopping…
I lived happily in Cardiff by the Sea,
and, one day, went to the store to buy tea.
Now, I stay in bed day and night,
shivering in terrified fright,
for the checker looked exactly like me.
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