My heart is empty
But my mind is full
So I have all these thoughts
But no feelings attached
My ears hear thoughtfully
But my tongue tastes tepidly
And the person I was 10 years ago
Well, he no longer exists
I feel like a manic mannequin
Masquerading as a man
Once vibrant eyes have gone dark
And I'm closer to death than birth
I write these words in my head
But they're written by foreign fingers
Lacking the deftness
That they used to have
Everyone thinks you die once
But after all I've been through
I think you die a thousand painful deaths
Before the Grim Reaper comes calling
The vibrancy of the mind fades
An aging body breaks down and decays
Hope transmogrified into one day at a time
But it just doesn't get any better
I feel like a software update went wrong
And erased the operating system
Like when Windows replaced XP with Vista
But it was never quite the same
My heart is empty
But my mind is full
But my feelings are attached here
To fill my empty heart
Children, pancakes, needlework
An initial draft, a first book
It’s no surprise they came out weird
No matter what pains you took
The first one is the practice one
You need it, to make a start
It’s okay, it won’t be perfect;
We weren’t expecting a work of art
It’ll be squiggly around the edges
Details not well defined
Awkward, clunky, unpolished
Scruffy and unrefined
If you haven’t got the knack yet
It’s understandable, you’re new
You’re learning how to unlock your skills;
What you should and shouldn’t do
You have to make the cringey first one
So your deftness can grow wild
The next attempt will be infinitely better
By B Philippe (a second child)
Seeing through emotions
And letting go of them all slowly one by one
devotion
Pain, happiness
Part of a life journey wholesome
Deftness
Enjoy
Dusted and done
Boy
Seeing through emotions
Part of a life journey wholesome
Boy
Notes
Format of the New form of Rhyme named MlNICHU is as follows:
1. Total 12 lines (4 stanzas of 3 lines each)
2. Rhyme scheme: Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD.
3. 4th stanza consists of repeat of 1st line of stanza1, 2nd line of stanza 2, and 3rd line of stanza 3.
4. Poem should stick to a chosen theme through all stanzas. A twist can be introduced in third stanza, if required by the theme, to make it more interesting.
5. Syllable count :
Stanza 1: 6,12,3
Stanza 2: 4,8,2
Stanza 3: 2,4,1
Stanza 4: 6,8,1.
Amazing fellow, this Wind.
No hands to clutch.
Yet demonstrates a sculptor's
Deftness of touch.
Behold, as an example
Dune's hilled sample.
As which spirit, wizard-like
This abstruse too
Nothing, nimble-fingered, felt
Works our lives through.
Look again; that built up for
No sand! Steeled more!
(after a painting by John Constable)
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
And ravens, weathering wild thermals, glint
blue-black beneath these clouds of graphite grey.
The strong, squat tower, formed of ancient flint,
has settled in the landscape, like the bole
of some decaying oak. The long-dead lie,
obscured by nettles. Nestling on its knoll,
the tiny temple shoulders out the sky.
What is compact is beautiful, to me.
Design with deftness guarantees a grace
that grander gewgaws lack: economy
is elegant, sublime in straitened space.
The more I practise, play and ponder on it,
The more I love the stature of the sonnet.
tight as a kite
the sparrows are minute
lead eye
face deftness
my lover is whole and beautiful
there is no dust on her shoulders
When I hit the dance floor,
I feel I am free and in a magical place,
free to pour.
My emotions,
passion, zest show through deftness, grace,
motions.
Upbeat
with magic pace.
Feat.
When I hit the dance floor,
passion, zest show through deftness, grace
Feat.
Dancing through
the mine field
deftness parlayed
Destruction incumbent
the future
in play
Each step risks a lifetime
if right
turns to wrong
Tomorrow uncertain
when short
—calls for long
(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)
The eagle’s wings flap with elegance and vigor;
even though the wind blows with great strength and power.
While both branch and twig sway due to a shrill clear sound,
as the green leaves rustle above the conscious ground.
This ferocious feathered appendage shows fierceness;
He untiringly glides with deftness and quickness.
Because he lets hope and trust win over the storm
that intends to inflict evil, damage, or harm.
When he is on a flight, his eyes are on target;
seeing his abode in the mountain of sunset.
He shows sheer happiness and joy when he goes home;
reaching the nest of his young ones that never roam.
He fearlessly leaps from the tree to fly and glide
to scan the view below with his glory and pride.
His eyesight shows sharpness along with his keen mind;
his heart bravely pulsates as love is there to find.
Mist rises quiet
Thru the liquid reflection
A river’s silence
~
Foggy mornings weigh
Gentle on my thoughts, my heart
Cooling my spirit
~
Sweet whispers grumble
Across smooth stones, in rapids
Venturing past pines
~
The edge of midnight
Soothing as a soft creek flow
Through whimsical joy
~
Moonlight reflects hope
Against the water’s deftness
Calling the calm shore
*(A lyric on the sweet seductions of a lovely, vampish nymph and man-eater named Lolita.).
With a body so fine and rare
like a lover who comes afresh
with a glow that's both sleek and fair;
and lovely in her fine, smooth flesh;
she sways me so with not a care
as we slowly combine and mesh.
With expert skill that's hard to find
and deft and not so innocent
(and with her hands and unchaste mind),
she unzips my rising discontent.
She pleasures me: I nigh go blind
(as her deftness makes me potent).
With focus and seductive powers
she peers into my fettered soul
and frees me from my iron trousers
which crush my sex and spirit whole.
And in minutes, not even hours,
I'm under her swift, sweet control!
Fumes of valor,
Sins weighing all the hopes lost,
Demeanor of power,
craving for success whatever's the cost,
Deftness of a prodigy,
It carries it all,
It carries everything you believe it does,
It carries nothing!
Judged, divided, shamed upon,
It just gushes unaware of any anomalies.
Its expeditious flow defines us all,
The sudden spout through the veins,
A constant reminder of human transience.
Often sworn to promises which are never kept,
It's limitless power put to a constant test.
Wasted in this worldly chaos, celebrated by a victory,
A mere symbol it remains,
Taken for granted,
Life's elixir unglorified.
Many are the memories of Hoosier farm life as a lad that I recall.
One was what Dad called 'hog renderin' that occurred every fall.
When he proclaimed the old boar had reached his maximum weight,
That meant for sure that the old feller was soon to meet his fate!.
After Dad did him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wielded his butchers' knife with the deftness of a surgeon's hand,
Carvin' out loins, hams and bacon from our late-departed friend!
Curin' bacon was Dad's specialty in which he took great pride.
He performed secret incantations which he never would confide.
Massagin', injectin' stuff and smokin' them again and again,
To ensure they were suitable for Mom's iron skillet fryin' pan!
After milkin' the cows and sloppin' the hogs at the break of dawn,
I could smell the bacon sizzlin' in the skillet as I walked across the lawn!
Enterin' the house the aroma of the bacon wafted about the place.
Even Dad was so anxious to dine that he waived the prayin' of grace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Deep within, settle our diamonds of hate;
Descending, slowly through our mind, heart and soul.
Hurts refined and ignored, forgotten in fate;
At first nothing but, a burning lump of coal.
The black-sooted singed wound, is hidden within;
We put on a smile and voice, 'nothing is wrong.'
The battle of flesh, rages with slash and din;
The coal's journey to diamond, moves along.
Rough in shape, we cut a gem to perfection;
Overcome with our deftness, we hold dearly.
Slipping down toward heel, without detection;
Hurt pressed to hate, remaining a hurt merely.
Some diamonds sparkle, destined to adorn;
Ours collect in mass, near the Achilles' heel;
Grinding and cutting, until tendon is torn.
We slam to the earth, only able to kneel.
Confused and dazed, we simply don't understand;
Calling God, we are given the strength needed,
To pass these stones, as easily as grains of sand;
Only then, can we stand, and proceed unheeded.
THE SNOW and coarse wind both plunge down over oceans
Unbound and unmeasured by obstinate sailors
Who drift while confronting ungrappled emotions
Like obdurate petrels and stoical whalers.
Imprisoned ashore on a cliff is the mourner
Whose wings have been severed by devious captors;
He peers through the mist as he hides in his corner:
How blithe is Life’s book, but how sad is his chapter!
Condemned to uncover eternity’s cryptic
And coveted secrets, he ponders the vastness
Of solitude cloaking a recondite, mystic
Philosophy hidden with infinite deftness.
The high-soaring tower which serves as his prison
Stands firm by the mountains’ impassable summits;
Escape though he might, how unfit is this season
Of menacing gales where the precipice plummets!
Beset by despair is this desolate being
Who once wished to flee his old life’s empty guises;
How downcast was he to find out, upon fleeing,
That loneness and death were his only surprises!
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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