Lavenders “allure,”
they “lure” bees, butterflies, folk,
toxic air immune,
flower on spike, fragrant vent,
evergreen shrub in svelte perfume
dilute blob oe’r skin,
red blotches, wrinkles, acne,
stoma clogs clean flush,
witch hazel spoon scoop fold in,
with mauve plant a face fillip
Sweet, spiced and salty,
courses, with subtle mint hint,
wild herb a chef’s boon,
its honey glaze gels with greens,
or muffins, waffles, ice cream
“If you do a little wee
Upon your lemon tree
It might not smell beaut
But it’s good for the fruit.”
So I did a little wee
Upon the lemon tree
The grass it did burn
But I did not learn.
It seems our dog came
And did much the same
This was not funny
And smelled like a dunny.
My wife saw red
And donged my head
With a rolling pin
For my gardening sin.
So learn from my mistakes
For goodness sakes
And never ever wee
On your lemon tree.
* But because citrus are "nitrogen-hungry" plants, a diluted application can boost growth and fruit production. For best results, dilute 1 cup (don't use your wife's measuring cup) of urine in 1 gallon of water, or apply it sparingly around the root zone rather than directly on the trunk.
361.
My Fear of Drowning
I fear physical death because I may just go…
To the turbulent stream, river, sea or ocean
Where I'll become feed to fish, mollusk or crustacean
Like Jack of Titanic who was never seen again!
To the silent pond, lake, pool or well
Where I'll dilute & dissolve trapped in a shell
Like Sadako of Japan haunting a vessel!
-03/17/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Fear of Death Collectio
Deafening silence.
It can crush the strongest soul,
soften the hardest warrior,
confuse the shiniest mind.
Yet, some souls call it home.
Void, mostly filled with —
lies, sins, borrowed identities.
Draining until last drop
of each other's blood.
Fleeing from the stare
of their own imitations in the mirror.
Their own voice whispering,
in the corner of their beliefs.
But few embrace this silence,
not by courage, nor pride.
Just for the clarity of being.
They cross this life, allowing
no one to dilute themselves.
I hovered close to the sun,
incinerated and lost my wings.
Never could I follow these steps,
and turn into my own beast.
deafening silence.
I loved on Saturdays in March, at dawn
(back then, each day was Saturday) to root
in pond and hedgerow. Light was pale, dilute,
and buds clung tight and hard around the thorn.
This season, with the world so freshly born,
enchanted me. Each flicking, wedge-faced newt,
sedge on his face, unconscionably cute,
each ink-black eye from thousands in the spawn,
each clear cold pool, each acid-green young shoot,
each minnow which acknowledged my pursuit
and twitched my hand-held line (no hope of rod!),
each copse, so self-contained and absolute,
with nascent blossom dusted, bluebell-shod,
appeared to me a pledge of life from God.
Darling let us go out and play,
brisk air is sweet and welcoming.
Oh, my dear little feuille-morte
your deluge is so endearing.
Don’t dilute what the eyes betray,
those colors are ever changing.
Darling let us go out and play,
brisk air is sweet and welcoming.
I would love to whisk you away,
the woods are extremely healing.
My feuille-morte it’s breathtaking.
Let us dance among the decay,
darling let us go out and play.
a thought of beauty scared away by negative thought
is easily bought as if given free
only to put on hold the bold
a thought so beautiful an angels breathe
could carry it across time
in a gentle rain shower
all living things could then feel its beauty
and be one with this beauty
which might strive to be alive
to share the air with all that lives
the beauty says, “I’ve seen things eyes have never seen
more beautiful than a rainbow in a waterfall
I tell you of things I’ve heard
melodies so pure as to melt the strings of a harp
while transcending the harpist and audience
to states of mind and emotion never before visited
open your minds and allow the essence of life
to dilute the sin nature of physical existence
imagine the soul as it reveals itself
beyond the limitations of the body
be your soul end the struggle
accept the oneness of being
you are a part of all that is
all that surrounds you, you also surround
blend in let your existence be noted
by your extraordinaire ability
to be congruent with all that is alive
with all that that is
you may become aware that the best of you
it actually the rest of you
There is a silent visitor inside you now —
softer than fresh-baked bread,
more precious than gifts from wise men of the East.
A second heartbeat,
gently echoing beneath your own.
You carry more than a name.
You carry memories yet to be made,
a mirror of past souls,
a vessel for tomorrow’s joy.
So walk gently,
eat wisely,
rest fully.
That bottle of cider —
it whispers lies.
That puff of smoke —
it scorches what is still becoming.
Feed this life with love,
with hope,
not with chemicals that dilute beautiful expectations.
Go.
Sit with those women in white —
the ones who read charts like oracles,
plotting the rise of a king or queen within your womb.
Let them weigh the weeks,
count your months like blessings.
Endure the prick of needles —
not just for you,
but for the strength of the life to come.
And when the countdown draws near,
remember:
Swollen feet will give way
to first smiles.
Too much sleep
will surrender to sleepless nights.
And sleepless nights
will bloom into stories —
told by the very angel
you now carry.
by Davie Kaliu
I'm lover not a fighter,
me spilling exclamations
instead of blood,
its what I resamble,
the ink in my viens that paints not images
but setting reactions on the loose.
Please! blame me not,
creativity is access,
mean not to invade
but i'm without bearings,
this din in my words,
put flames to my surrounding,
I mean not to brag,
help me extinguish this overflow
in my system,
it just can't be contained,
it wanna consume everything before me,
like a natural disaster,
my presence devastates,
tie your attentions,
before i'm charged for being creative.
I am poetic ink.
not to dilute your egoes
but to uproot your reactions,
like acid,
i'm here to burn not your minds
but your word perspective and perception.
I said it i'm poetry
not that I was born of poetry
but soldiered enough
in gathering meaning
from all sources to your presence,
of what poetry is.
#Poetic_Ink
Eyes
Embarrassed, ashamed, of
my alphabetical brown eyes I’m
not! My eyes adjust easily to
different clear sound waves. Some
sound waves desire venomously to
change the temperature to
ad infinitum cold to
fit a new purpose – collect, bath in,
my anger for
the cold so they can
use it to
power electrical things. They’ll never be able to sustain it for long! When I dilute my eyeballs with boiling water all sizes of
cupboards appear in
the kitchen of
poor peoples’ homes.
As a gift I take each day
Dismal days keep coming on
Random snowflakes dance away
Dying to reborn
In the murky light I sit
Listening to clocks
Time keeps ticking, bit by bit
Like the water drops
Mister Time, wouldn’t you please
Lend an ear to me
Tell me when I’ll be released
From your scrutiny
Play a sad or happy song
Sounds dilute the mist
Put me where do I belong
Should have been, at least.
oh how a newborn’s first tear helps dilute ~ mortality’s bitter truth
death dissolves in such sweet moments ~ if soluble never absolute
Their despise never trace me
Free to every discerning eyes
Ecstasy eloquent and dilute
soft footstape asleep where
Echoes of mountains ever climb
Desertness solemn and wither
Torrent rain who can feel
When every moment dormant, wet
Pulsate maroon inalive memories
Forest cry deepen amidgreen
Gild never touch arid surface
Companion of endless and ephemeral
Landscape never escape their shares always
Dream dilemma shorten us
Bustle of necessities dare
Plaster abode everywhere
Rooten the gifted odur
Luxuriant hair unbounds the daisies
Mirrors of thousand overlook
Can catch the flight of mine
The distance of sky and surface
Breadth bridle us.
2.5 cups of chickpeas
2 egg yolks
3 t of lime juice
4 tablespoons of garlic
1/2 onion
1/2 flaked fish
1/2 t of dried thyme
4 T shredded coconut
1 teaspoon of smoked paprika
4 T toasted sesame seeds
2 Tablespoons of flour
2 T cornstarch
deep fat fry in
a mixture of
olive oil and avocado oil.
2 T cayenne
4 tablespoons of powdered cream cheese
drain pea
ground in f. processer
add spices vegies and fish
pulse. add yolk lime juice
make sheres, refrigerate,
deep fry in olive oil and avocado oil.
mayo
relish
T sour cream
chives
1 T. cognac
dilute spirt with lemon juice.
and honey.
we boiled the country ribs
seasoned them when they were done
and BBQ'd them under a broiler with
a tangy BBQ sauce
steamed asparagus with
garlic lemon butter
Hazelnut and pound cake
cupcakes with marzipone topping and vanilla icecream dessert.
The brightest yellow ball is dilute on the vast blue horizon.
The heavenly peace that the restless breezes create is indescribable.
It might be the last day for overthinking minds, unsettled feelings, and unwelcoming miseries.
This huge wave will eventually erase them forever.
What...? Why does this chameleon mind get shocking, frightful,
suddenly thinks about the good things, unlike any other day.
It is always professional at making things difficult.
But what can I do?
RIP............... to the people on that cliff.
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.