With its disparate arms it beckons.
Look at its face, its eyes half-passed closed,
With a mouth smiling counter-clockwise,
It ticks to me and it tocks to me.
But I still cannot understand how,
Legless, time runs out on me so fast.
(Honorary Mention in Brian Strands's No 1491 Contest)
Disparate, she commented,
The word reverberating
As fond music, with pleasant
Measures and tingly tones --
And should we not be open
To others’ voices, divergence of
Thinking? As with clear-eyed
And blinking, a look-see is worth
The now, hoping, anticipated
Enlivened journey of daring
Vistas, elongated dimensions --
Spirit/mind ever on the hunt for
Spirit/source – life is a series
Of Lost And Founds...squares
Seeking their counterpart rounds --
Not diametrically opposed, just
Points and edges making intriguing
Bounds – but never a harmony all
Quaking Spheres. Simply enjoying
A unique volume of eyes, noses, voices
And pert little ears.
essential
contrasts
of
authentic
ethos
with
nostalgic
responses
in
concentrated
self-images
prosaic
remembrance
of
inwardness
embraced
individual
elaborated
coincidences
deliberate
limitations
&
isolated
feelings
revealed
pain and anguish pours through the heart
when they compare thy art;
smiling across the lament
when they snub your latent talent,
they cannot procure the nectar
by peeling petal by petal
sepal by sepal,
can only be snuck up by a bee.
All are bright consummate flowers
yet they smell disparate.
These inanimate drops of rain
Splashes on my window
Your gloomy eyes stare
Through that window into mine
We are two different people
We grappled the same fears
Our hearts bleed in agony
With a fragrance of melancholy
That burns up our nostrils
There’s no place we face
Your visage hangs in my memories
Primitive poems fade away….
Only to be brought back
And cherished by someone else
Two different lands, one heart….
Woke up at four then with each passing train
Been waiting all weekend for Monday again
Saw two magpies but one of them was dead
Is that sorrow or joy for a superstitious head?
anxiety and worry is all about me
I’m all on my own yet surrounded by family
My age is now greater than my waist
So there’s less time to waste on a wrong mental place
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