Distinguishable Poems

Cultural Crux

Is there anything you root for in our garden now? 
Must I cultivate it to make it grow? 
Can't seed so many plots, I know.

Is there anything you savour in our melting pot now? 
Seasons changed, and our flavours compound, 
True essence to distil.

Blinded by what familiarity steeps 
You know our brew only too well, you see. 
I taste bitterness, you drink me.

Remember, 
The days when cultures were raw, 
Just fresh and jubilantly spicy?
Where exactly did that zest go? 
Preserved, yes. 
Unspoiled, no! 

Simmered away as steam from a kettle, 
Aromas mingled over. 
Vaporous, hardly distinguishable.

Whatever happened to our cultural bouquet? 
Trying to bottle it is so hard.

Is there anything you relish in our feast now?
These days our palates just don't know. 

We're still simmering.
 Taste! Taste!

Civilization

Ancient 
~*~*~*~*~*Beliefs
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Cultivate
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Distinguishable
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Entities
~*~*~*~*~*Fortify
Genuine
~*~*~*~*~*Harmonic
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Ideas
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Justifying
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Kindredship
~*~*~*~*~*Mentoring
Nurturing
~*~*~*~*~*Obliging
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Perseverance
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Qualifies
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Respect
~*~*~*~*~*Strengthening
Transcends
~*~*~*~*~*Ultimate
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Victory
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Wellsprings
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Xenial
~*~*~*~*~*Yonder
Zeal

It Is a Simple Difference

it is a simple difference
in science white is the presence of all color
while black is the absence
a prism of white light reveals the spectrum
while in art black is the presence of all color
and white is its' absence
so when I hear an opinion
from the Department of the Philosophy of Science
am i not receiving an oxymoron
when what i am seeking
things clearly defined
having a distinct difference from one another
something clear and easily distinguishable 
which is confusing in this morass of opinion
in this gray tempest raging across
this mass of black and white
we call humanity
philosophy, theology, and science
the forest whose roots hide manunkind

   Oregon   8/23

Mother Nature Draws the Dawn

**  Mother Nature Draws the Dawn  **


Already, 
Dawn sets off 
This longitude’s waking,
Displaying nearby trees
Into their scribbled silhouettes
In shades
Of gray with blasts of black masses  — 
Points gathered
Fronting the quick brightening over
Yesterday’s leaving darkness, 
 And bringing forth this day’s white-glazed,
Cloud-faced sky —
Appearing before my sleepy eyes
Without any distinguishable color, and 
Simply seen as an unfoldng background — 
 A lightening
That shows even before the blendings —
With the coming gifts to sight
     Of the perception of dimensions
     And the aspects of perspective,
To be seen in the expanse beyond my window
In this dawning moment ~
As the world appears quite like 
A flattened Earth, 
    Like a doodled scene
Of blotches and specs — in
Mother Nature’s ink line & wash
Landscape
Created on her personal, unbordered paper.


———————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 8/17/2023
(For Jim. Happy 40th)

Incredible

Illustrious
Nifty
Content
Remarkable
Enchanted
Distinguishable
Inconceivable
Bright
Lovely
Endear

The Wokies Aka the Emmys Show

Long, long ago in a land that is 
now somewhat unhinged!
Was as an award show called,
The Emmiys.
That is now but only with blue
colors  fringed?

The Academy Awards, once was
truly talent~based.
Is now full of cussing, with no
distinguishable grace.

People up for the Emmy Awards....
just give me a break!
Just folks who love CNN or The View 
who will partake.

Those who love this country well,
Know it is but a propoganda show 
from Woke Hell!
Best, that night you mightily pen!

More than one poem, in honor of
America, as it was then!
Many of us too afraid, to write
about the joy on being American,
now and back then.

The WOKIES want the USA over!
In the ground and our values?
Soaking from WOKIE’S dog,freedom
Destroyer....Rover!

               7/16/2021
                 ...2,,,,

Do You Still Like Me

Is there anything you like about me now
Must I work to make it so?
Can't do that so much, I know.

Is there anything you like about me now?
Time passed, my unconscious dispositions abound,
True self to bear.

Blinded by what familiarity breeds
You know me only to well you see.
I see contempt,  you see me.

Remember,
The days when love was pure,
Just fun and jubilantly physical? 
Where exactly did it go?
Lost, yes. Forgotten, no!
Etched away as sand on a shore,
Love drifted O're.
Translucent,  hardly distinguishable.

What ever happened to love?
Trying is so so hard.

Is there anything you like about me now?

These days I just don't know.

Im still here.
Hello! Hello!

Just Another Star

In the winter sky
 when the moon is but a crescent
 or is it a croissant?
Nevertheless, the twinkling is distinguishable
 the random patterns of distant glowing lights
 some turning on, others shutting down.
In all the years that pass
 the centuries and millennia that exceed our time
 the brilliant lights begin to dim and fade.
What we see now came about generations ago
 and as the lights begin to slowly burn out
 we recognize our time nears an end.
We are remnants of stardust
 clustered beyond this revolving sphere
 and what remains after us - are 
just another star's tears.




for Mark Massey
The Star in my Avatar
2/12/19

The Unit Circle

It unfurls itself along the x-axis
with a contained passion, fluctuating
between -1 and 1 like a photon
whose brightness is one of an infinite number
of dimensionless values, coherent, distinguishable,
continuous.
It is counterintuitively optimistic; it insists
that half of a pie should be called pi radians.
It confuses to enlighten; it sends our minds rolling
through loops, performing flips and inversions
until we step backward
and see a straight line.

White Noise

He glued his ear
to the speaker, where
faint, barely distinguishable
voices seemingly distressed
made noise

He was convinced
they were talking to him
in languages he once knew
but had forgotten a long
time ago

He whispered back
with fervor, nodded, 
gestured wide gestures
in harmony with music
so vague

He enjoyed them
the company and stories
in a life filled with silence
each sound precious
and welcome

He grinned 
hummed with them
their song for each soul
each delusion or dream
skewed reality

***

June 22, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

Such a Wonder, Words

Words,
Such a wonder,
Words.

Little drawings
Such simple, small paintings
Twenty-six simple forms, so scary, so all 
Distinguishable stringable, sequentiable, magical.
My own words float in the air,  I can see and hear them 
they sing me a song, they call me, they whisper
and menace, they form films and images
without seeing them, the most 
intriguing patterns weave.
My poetry a loom.

Words,
Such a hurdle
Words.

My
Fingers and
My hands speak
But they twist my tongue
As long as I stay silent, they stay 
pristine in their cellophane crispy state.
So I better not speak or they will be spoiled.
Instead I ask you to craft me a story,
Use those letters to enthrall me.
Make the words disappear.
Make me see images,
Magic and love.

Words,
Give me please,
Words.

***

Originally written for a friend
October 18, 2016

Hillary Perfect President

Hillary Perfect President

Remarkable, wherever Hillary may have went
After returning a great message was sent
She had been warmly accepted by a big crowd
Trump supports would say for crying out loud.

Hardly a second went by without more applause
And so much attention she continually draws
Seeming to have ability to say right things
While Trumpster's are a bunch of ding-a-lings.

Did hear her each clear, distinguishable word
By Hillary's mere presence were all allured
Re-assured a perfect President would be
Considerate thinking about you and me.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

Watching and Waiting : Contest

They watch her as she sleeps
The little old lady in bed eight.
The pain etches her face
I drop a few more milligrammes of relief.

Into her drip it goes, the easing shows immediately,
Smile on her face.
When it's time for visitors she will be ready
Hair in place.

They don't realize the pain she suffers
the unsaid happenings of her daily struggle.
The pain where gripping a rolled up sheet is her only relief
each wave of pain not distinguishable.

Yet the smile hovers around her face
the look of an angel.
Crying in pain is not losing face
Just showing you she is approachable.

Like a fly on the wall 
They watch her from the console, ...as the snow falls,
she loved the snow, said it cleanses all.
Ready to race to her side when her breathing fails.

Penned 19 May 20

Pain

Where does this emotion of pain evolve?
Who decided that amongst all
Other feelings
One would signify defeat
 
Who would wish into existence
A feeling so unbearable
So remotely distinguishable
As agony and numbness
 
Strong enough to prolong mental instability
an emotion that can devastate the very inner core
of a human being
and wrench the very meaning of life from one’s grasp
leaving in its wake
a sentiment of internal bleeding

Imperfectly Perfect

We spend our whole lives
 trying to be special

As infants we cry for attention and 
As teens we cry for no reason at all

Sometimes it feels as though we speak a language
 only our minds can understand

We spend years feeling alone
 and “misunderstood”

Mirrors become a battleground for the attacking inner voices
Reality becomes less distinguishable 

A fear sets in
“Who am I?”

Panicked by uncertainty we hide behind masks
The rebel, the hippy, the jock 

Now more lost than before we break
Feeling naked and vulnerable

We stare at our spotted skin through puffy eyes
Then a wave of clarity shocks our senses 

A laugh escapes a pair of thin pink lips 
Who am I?

Who we are is not the refection in a mirror
But what we choose to see

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