Feel them in my tendons
Hear them in the quiet
See them in the wind
Smell their fragrance
A constant in my life
Like a steel manacle
Arrested and limited
I must pay the price
Sins from lives past
Karmic justice served
Grow I must or else
Be trapped hereafter
So I speak the truth
I am compassionate
Eschewing victimhood
Pleasing higher beings
The rise and fall scarce audible
inform me that you’re here.
A comfort washes over me
allaying certain fears.
For though I like my quiet time,
eschewing all the noise,
a room devoid of breathing sounds
is one I’ll not enjoy.
So sleep my darling, slumber on
and I will watch and pray
and thank our Father for his gift:
another precious day.
Asinine Asymmetry
abysmal
vapid
pedagogue
impulsive
advocacy
with FLUSTERED TORRENTS
blindly
indicting
scapegoats
subpar
dogmatist
in DEMONIC DIATRIBE
eschewing
impartial
testament
veracity
disparaged
Asinine Asymmetry
raucous
sweeping
presage
emanating
palpably
from VEHEMENT ESPOUSER
flagrant
vacuous
utterance
neurotic
trivialist
with FATUOUS FLAMBOYANCE
underpinning
risible
posture
detachment
anathema
How the woodland creatures would adore
a sound they'd never heard before
as they gathered gladly on the glade
to hear him as with his voice he played,
eschewing the dry diatonic scale -
the microtonal nightingale.
Poets are often solitary,
Eschewing social amenities,
Surrounding their castles with Boxberry,
Cursing the unwary with obscenities
Best left to the imaginations
Of hermits and old men,
Whose skill in communications
Sends gray-haired women back to the hen-
House.
Bulgaria...Well done.' Sweden scored a hole in one.'
Papua New Guinea.' You got me stunned.!! Three great
Examples.!! As I see.!) Eschewing the con-vid intent of
A rabid W H O decree..No pop up tent events.!! No guilt schemes
Playing on t v..? No radio dj's holy moly-ing it seems.?
Just the general tide of life.' More or less.? In these three
Countries.! that P-ublicly C-almly R-esisted ' in fact proved
Human immunity is by its millenial disease exposed
Historical index of tests ( super-lat-ive ) dear
God your case, i rest.!)
Shame is a feeling I do avoid.
Too often, something like it has me, destroyed,
and yet, to be a better man,
I must look at myself as best I can,
and that may entail shame.
I look at myself, not to blame,
but to grow, to not be the same,
and yet to know I'm ever flawed,
eschewing pangs which on me gnawed,
my best self to reclaim.
Eschewing the catastrophic world
towards a tranquil place, I headed;
The heavenly aroma spread around
transported my soul into a place astound
A place where the music was born
A place where dawn chorus begins
A place where the earth is adorned
A place where tranquillity just exists
A place where the purity still persists
A place where negativity resists to step in
The still water reflecting the moon round
Kindled the pleasing memories abound
Hues of cherubic green everywhere
I heard the whispers of Angels in the air
An angel sang lullaby
An angel turned into a damselfly
An angel narrated stories to the babies
An angel noted down the dandelion wishes
A cupid was busy uniting the bride and groom
Another one was playing under the mushroom
Haven't been to a place like this before
Never ever tried to open a mystical mind door
Glad I did it now at least
For my soul witnessed an idyllic place at last
30- March - 2024
Ability And Desire
Miracle Man
3/15/2024
When in his youth he was filled with desires,
now sometimes his age causes him to digress.
To do youthful things he no longer aspires,
but today his thoughts are difficult to express.
He was big in sports, and liked to hunt and fish,
a military career he should have been eschewing.
Now he visits his past able only to wish,
while he was away missing years were accruing.
For a friend
I will sing to you in Russian
Recite to you in Greek
Converse in any language
That you deign to speak
I will follow you through Hades
Protect you from its fire
Look at you adoringly
Object of my desire
I will save your seat
While you enjoy the dance’
Protect you with my shield
Defend you with my lance
I will walk on hot coals
If it brings you delight
Wrap you in my cloak
To warm you in the night
Willingly and freely
I pledge to do all this
For the merest brush
Of your lips in a kiss
I will conquer mountains
Eschewing any fame
Each and every act dedicated
To the glory of your name
So come and sit beside me
Let me feast my eyes
Entrance you with my wit
Seduce you with my sighs
All this I do for the great joy
And the precious right
To escort your person safely
To your home tonight
I think in rhyming couplets
As I anticipate
The gentle goodnight kiss
As I leave you at your gate
And hope, like me,
You yearn
And dream
Of my swift return
January’s snow flows stealthfully through my fifth-floor apartment window, flung wide open to welcome in the new year. The half-drawn curtains bellow with brisk salt air blowing in from the North Sea. A distant foghorn groans in a resigned, forlorn resonance, guiding ships braving the churning, ice-slushy waters as church bells strike twelve stately brassy tones.
This night I stand alone and content, a rich cup of espresso in my hand. Eschewing nostalgia and perhaps too sober of thought, I prefer my pleasures to be of the vicarious variety. Beneath me I take in the muted ambers and oranges spread out from the four cafes, out past the cobblestone road, glistening as snowflakes alite. Young couples drinking, glasses clinking, hug, kiss and revel, strolling out from the cafes. Some indulge in a traditional waltz, before the speaker blares more modern fare. Waves of laughter and singing ebb and flow as I turn and head toward my bed and blessed sleep.
Again the foghorn blares mournfully, like a tuba vainly pleading to be united with a long-lost orchestra.
I love returning to the vale;
I feel recharged, hearty, and hale.
It lifts my spirits without fail,
bringing a joy that’s not for sale.
It keeps me lighter on the scale
while still eschewing all that kale.
Missy concurs out on the trail,
takes in the smells, and wags her tail.
I still believe all politicians are not liars and dishonest
Though it is difficult to find those are consistently so
Those who will face harsh realities on election day
Dishonest peers will work together to see them go.
Right on, Liz Cheney! for standing up for what was right
Republicans turned their backs on her; she was ousted,
She stood like a beacon of justice against Trump’s big lie
Proving her words, what was right; it cannot be doubted.
Honest politicians have always been scorned by others
For they work on principle; for them, values are prized
And when confronted by their unscrupulous peers,
Most of them are not entirely taken aback or surprised.
Many honest politicians voluntarily return to civilian life
Eschewing the titles, plans, plush allowances, longevity
When they realize they are unable to make a difference,
Will trade the lifestyle of Washington for common decency.
Written October 29, 2022
The pain that man inflicts on man,
Near constant since our time began.
‘Twas Abel by his brother killed,
No proper view of life instilled.
And ever since, we’ve spiraled down,
Eschewing heaven, eyes to ground.
Lex talionis, eye for eye,
Creates a false sense of restraint;
It certainly does not apply
When we, aggrieved, don battle paint.
For then we, every means, employ,
Seek our opponent, to destroy.
We feel a smug self-righteousness;
We use the mouth to curse, not bless.
We grasp not our imperiled state
And blindly seek our lusts to sate.
With our warped sense of justice bruised,
We rage against an unknown God.
With eyes now blind and minds confused,
We reach conclusions badly flawed.
We paint broad strokes, devoid of light,
Expecting red from black and white.
This is our lot; this is our fate
When god is small and We are great.
Until man sees these roles reversed,
Darkness pervades, and we are cursed.
Woman-owned green beans won't string you along,
But if you're a man, it’s likely you're wrong.
Woman-owned green beans, our virtues extole,
Hand-picked from the bush, eschewing the pole.
Woman-owned green beans for the man of the hour,
We’d best make that two, they still need a shower.
Woman-owned green beans are never on sale,
‘Cuz working for less is beyond the pale.
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got a chuckle out of this label at the store...
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