In Autumn chain edges destroy the trees' only air
She, while in their bark's raw breath infuse,
As if leaves underdone weren't truly everywhere
On Autumn's corset; within, her body's womb
A stolen breath
Gripped onto her corset
A leaf's first memory lasts first
The oak's years cut from giving her birth
She left in its ground spaces worth
falling for
I am feeling down
In the dumps
It is not your fault
My friend
I totally blame myself for it
Yesterday I was feeling
Tired all day
I even felt asleep in front of the computer
I had no excuses
I had to go right away to bed
This morning I woke up
At 5:59 am
I got ready to started the day
I had my big healthy breakfast
It feel me up until lunch time
I am a poet and I write poetry
And I must say that is what I do best
#Tone_it_down_my_dear
breath runs out of my lungs, this dungeon on my body grips tighter, yet I'm still nearing to her finer reflection..,
Glare in her face keep trapping my courage to confront her, I look, but still come back with tattered emotions..,
she creates so much iniquities to my sanity. One glance in her eyes, in this maze of her beauty, constantly return with drained batteries of my emotional and mental gps, leaving me wondering in the wilderness of her pulchritudeousness...
Wonder if her heart poses so pure and innocent as her smile, Troubled is my soul and mind, when fear keep piling wonders in place of confidence...
in my dreams I'm man, but her presence turns me into a lad, how hard I try to stand firm but my knees fails my strength, I need special ingredients of courage, mine, she had long exhausted
#Poetic_Ink
I carried grief,
an ache deep in my chest,
each breath tight,
each step heavy,
my world closing
around the hurt that stayed.
I held that pain
in my hands,
turning it over and over
as if feeling it
kept me alive.
But time flows on
and even stones soften...
edges worn down
by patient currents.
One morning,
I set the stone aside.
Not because I forgot,
not because I excused,
but because I was tired
of dragging yesterday
into each tomorrow.
Forgiveness is not
a letting go meant only for me:
it is what saved my chest,
the breath that rebounded
the sky opening above.
high above… shines love
celestial skies… peaceful dove…
down below... war’s glow
Can you tell that I am down bad?
Is it so painfully obvious that I like you?
Sure, I text you everyday,
and I ask you enough questions to make the press seem amateur,
and yeah I keep trying to hang out,
but that's what friends do, right?
friends.
Just friends.
will it up
grill it up
fill it up to brimming
swill to still those silly cells
drowned in what they’re swimming
press ‘em up
mess ‘em up
dress ‘em up with practice
a hoarder in its order
and thorned as any cactus
mock it up
talk it up
chalk it up to neurons
firing with mis-wiring
the receptors that they were on
hike 'em up
strike 'em up
spike 'em up your coursings
joy's in that sweet poison
tho it's life that you're divorcing
burn it up
churn it up
turn it up to 'leven
bursting drums, but first it comes
and lies to you like heaven
smoke 'em up
toke 'em up
choke 'em up a-breathing
red, the mud, as thin as blood
to leave your angels seething
tighten up
whiten up
lighten up and torch it
melt the moon into the spoon
and soon you'll swoon to scorch it
wind it down
bind it down
grind it down to fill you
you won't miss
amidst your bliss
the sweetest kiss ... to kill you …
her sweetest kiss ... will kill.
Copyright © 2023 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )
Deep down I knew just like me you are only human too.
I'm grateful for you still wanting me as someone you woo.
Deep down you knew it too, that maybe I am meant to be with you.
Turn down your violent rhetoric, America, you’re losing your soul.
Wish I could, but the First Amendment has no volume control.
And what if the violent rhetoric gets dangerously loud?
That’s what the Second Amendment is all about.
So you can offer no hope, no guiding instruction?
Just what Mark Twain saw a long time ago:
Every civilization carries the seeds of its own destruction.
Do you become
famished
before you get
hungry
Do you become
smitten
when being
alone
Do you become
distant
once over
the target
Do you become
vagrant
though always
at home
Do you become
younger
with wrinkles
upon you
Do you become
foreign
while taking
the pledge
Do you become
angry
and lost
in your garden
Do you become
tempted
when nearing
— the edge
(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)
Water rolling down from the pitcher
A long time ago, one purple morning
The sun took a seat in the argentine flow
It had quietly entered through the window
__________________
September 6, 2025
what else could happen? It is freezing outside
but look at the snow crystals grandma says
Someone yells for her to put the curtain down
They claim the cold air is getting in
I wander outside
wanting to get next to the beauty of winter
snow lightning makes my day!
you're laying back and toking
is that a funny cigarette you're smoking?
~ looking suspiciously calm and mellow
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
The Angry Little Chipmunk spotted his prey...
He moved into position, ready to Pounce!
But a Rabid Squirrel, took his nuts for a whirl...
No Way! Each day I'm getting thinner by the Ounce!
I don't endorse 'going with flow'
for of course you never know
if the current will funnel
you down the drain
the tubes or flume
through the tunnel
toward the spume
to where you end up
in the sewer below
so as I'm in no rush to gush
or feel completely flushed
here and now I do avow
for me the bowl on the whole
is a non-starter a definite no-go
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