Ebony hair cascades untamed,
swirls in longing squall
on your ivory forehead,
engraves contours of charisma.
Eyes flash sapphire sheen,
flutter in yearning air,
enshrining design of dreams
away from wilderness wind.
Rosy patina smears cheeks,
zephyr spreads luring scent.
Enchanting visage of glamour
entices me in reverie.
Luscious lips of rose,
sparkle with lilac luster,
quiver as satin petals.
Your smile I capture.
Oh, soundless stars like
a solid-looking, fragrant brook.
I'm standing there,
before the sunset, and
covering the golden chains
of the stars
with beaming kisses,
l like a fated chrysanthemum;
enshrining an untamed
piercing forest.
You see tis not problem let say for instance
a family to have two noble family houses
even though age, even though power, wealth and influence
what is there for people to share the schools, stations
and for example market places?.
Can they change even the nature of news through
democracy? or fast the glass?.
Let assume that the school is the country is the world,...
To be frank what have they done in the school other than
integration and brotherhood and humanity at large.
So much such that no department or methodology for
instance will expire.
I feel that this is a yonder development of the older
machinery, enshrining the status quo- though somehow
dirty today- is not as it is seen- the mission like a child
growing will deny the childhoodness if not a sometimes
mologue whims?.
They arrived in rusted cars and ancient trucks.
Slugged blue-collar champagne from coffee mugs.
Playing one-eyed poker with calloused hands.
Laughing like jackals -cussing like burning crabs.
They solved all of the world's many problems.
Through unfiltered thoughts and whisky logic.
Smoking Swisher Sweets while nodding heads.
Agreeing between puffs and silver nods,
That a godless world is better off dead.
The next morning, the sky was hungover.
They tallied tackle and fired up grandad's Evinrude motor.
That night, they gazed upon God's waning embers.
Enshrining lost lunkers and the ghosts of old friends.
Sunday morning, they slowly packed up paradise.
Hand-me-down tackle and one-eyed smiles.
An angel in the shallows waved them goodbye.
Down a dirt road they drifted away like misty skies.
The following year there'd be one less from the caste
In a sacred place they laid an old fisherman's hat.
The bums and the heroes
of revolution
asleep
As drawn to the cosmos
a light
travels deep
He asked for no quarter
playing outside
the game
His legion in shadows
he’d never
explain
Each song once it’s sung
his interest
foregone
To blind repetition
he couldn’t
belong
The critics in reference
enshrining
his fame
As the midwestern
prairie wind
—calls out his name
(Ode To Bob Dylan: November, 2023)
*Image of Freedom Pub
Freedom Pub
Marred fictions of emus, ostriches
dip their heads neath, were hailed
by Ancient Rome's false divination,
of individuals, whose conquest of
enshrining their implied role.
Emancipated exacters, whereto,
the subjugators of the unlearned
majority, daily context by untruths,
orientations hard-pressed, by
tainted thumbs of paperwork,
loads conveniently,
mache for obvious design.
Decaying precursors demonocracy,
aptitudes knotting promotes,
a panache promenade of quilted
quids, as characters clash with
reality quarrels, as a shoreline
of sculpted castled sands, drift to
its emptiness of their costly
noted, S.O.S.
The absence of freedom is a true
reinvention for the masses, to
rummage and further wander, its
lineage of class enumeration
liken to some zombie apocalypse,
clueless beginning.
Lo and behold, its keepers adrift,
salty surges hath rise o'er, the
fresh living waters.
2023 January 07
*HM*
Freedom Pub
~~Joe Maverick: Judged 2023 January 09
as trickles hum to glossy oaks and skies---
come waltz me in the symphony of rain
enshrining charms adored .... though moon decries
love gone: just let night’s movement whirl again.
Taken from the poem 'Final Dance'
Through pungent fog , ashen white
notions about hope grow contrite-
amidst gust, tears rake anew
where solace begs its due.
Hours taunt of curtain call
inflicting doubt on nightscape's pall--
Tables empty his footprints leave
while seasons pray for reprieve...
until he knocks enshrining eve
my patience affirmed , ‘ just believe.'
~
4/06/2019
Lu Loo’s Contest :
10 Lines, 5 Words: Rhyme III
Living inside the moment,
Temporal things
Pass me by
On their march to permanence
Attached to everything
But themselves,
They stand as false Icons
To a time once lived–then put away
A trophy case of remembrance…
Enshrining what was lost
In the gathering
Dust
Never rediscovered…
Defining what death means
In the gathering
Dust
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
I wonder how the luster of evening,
could hush despair amidst its glow, but,
its touch upon this skin escapes me
as the light reflects a child's face, gone:
Through nightfall's sail, eyes weep in private
while the rain flows intermittently,
it spills...like dying stars along the roadside
until this body is drenched in cold yearning.
Within gloss of dew, cotton candy days are recalled
enshrining laughter on Barnum Bailey fairs-
then, jelly-smudges circle her girlish mouth,
a wiggle on a red bike's new handle zigzagging away
where flavors of revelry linger, still...still.
And now, dusk creates another empty place
inside more holes in a pinpoint of ebon clouds,
that I am left alone
without a voice... choked by reality's pinch
when early dawn trickles in beats---
and singing myself to slumber
no one hears a Rockabye's wail, except...
Written 9/14/2018
------------------
Shush, Did You Hear That:
Anthony Slausen's Contest
I weave rhapsodies | words dance before you
Enshrining words on paper | obelisks of enlightenment
Heartbeats quicken pulse | hark metered rhythm
As i map stars with my quill | Ursa Major could guide me
To rendezvous with cosmos | perhaps map a planet ‘B’
A cleaved tank duo can be read as one poem or 2 stand-alone tankas. This was a collaboration between Yasmin Khan, and myself. Yasmin is responsible for the tanka on the left.
Elder jays roam the tainted winds in herds,
Alighting upstream like most holy birds
Into the threshold of an inky night,
And journey forth with brave rafters, onwards
For lofty a view, their sweet rest’s delight.
Although clouds withdraw from a hued backdrop
This avian route, dismal, nary a flop
Under bloodstained gust surviving a dodge;
Before piteous age taints life , non-stop
With hopes to reach their own destiny’s lodge.
Yet, the valiant flock abandons a cry
Invoking hymns droning a lullaby
Through morn hours, the conception of new birth
Sends angel wings on gates of heaven’s sky…
Enshrining old jays’ flight with endless mirth!
................................
Rhyme Time With 5 Contest: For Laura Loo
10/6/2017
Checked via howmanysyllables.com, rhymezone.com
I wonder why and how.
Hope can come and go
spirits appears and disappears
Simultaneously Heart Throbbing
gloomy days are incoming
Being one with a small courage
Slowly but surely
i will be
enshrining my nightmares
with a brave new dreams
to the dark depths
Now that the leaves turn amber brown,
Memories gather to unfold
On life's journey, its seasons’ crown;
As tomorrow rides … warmly bold.
Memories gather to unfold
When deep patience bestows time's flare
As tomorrow rides … warmly bold,
To nourish joy beyond compare.
When deep patience bestows time's flare
Enshrining brave moments …aflame,
To nourish joy beyond compare
With prayers of faith in love’s name.
Enshrining brave moments …aflame,
On life's journey, its seasons’ crown;
With prayers of faith in love’s name,
Now that the leaves turn amber brown.
Contest: What Will Tomorrow Bring
Sponsored by Eve Roper 6/24/2017
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
Like sentinels -stone-fixed to the ground.
The wind like a shroud wraps around them,
Enshrining each space where they're found.
Stone guardians stand at attention,
Into the distance -row after row.
O' mourn those hallowed internments,
Where our heroes are resting below.
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
With their numbers increasing with years.
And graves that are drenched by the weeping,
Will never run dry of our tears.
Now the soil is the dead's lonely blanket,
Below - and everlasting - at rest.
Those keepers -yes -all those white crosses,
Announcing -'Here lie the Best of the Best.'
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
All those warriors were yields of our lives.
And the harvest of what all wars cost us,
Are plowed under and nothing survives.
There is green lawn laid like a carpet,
That covers our heroes repose.
Outstreched are the arms of the crosses,
In a garden where nothing else grows.
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