MOSQUITO MIKE
Just something a bit humorous on this hot summer day..
There once was a mosquito named Mike.
His buzzing and biting I did not like.
On my arm he found a place
flitted and fluttered with grace.
I swatted at him with a handspike.
Mike dodged and weaved with carefree ease.
He feasted on my blood, what a sleaze.
He's a small creature, not grand,
Mosquito Mike, wings so weak and bland.
Caught him in my hand. OOOPS! Big squeeze.
All that you'll leave behind for me are your memories
The legacy of a story that was ill-fated from the beginning
You have somebody else, but my heart still screams your name in silence
Who will I think of when I’m being feasted upon by my ghosts?
Your memories will soon join them—and eat me alive.
I don’t want to be in love again, where the one I love will kill me
Pink hue flamingo it must be due to all
the carotenoid pigments feasted on
algae and crustaceans
An elongated neck spirals
and filters such sensations
Sharing color is Okinawa salmon sushi,
bolster lobster and shrimp scrimp
Graceful qualifiers primp poised tropical dwellers
balancing effortlessly on one outstretched leg,
A ballerina’s pirouette in fuchsia tutus’
Statuesque stillness in shallow water
Rosette feathers flair flamboyance
Passionate plumage, blushing boas
Webbed feet tap and stamp below,
an aquatic burlesque show
The flamenco dance named after you
Rose-tinted creature tranquil, wader
Hook-billed blackened lamellae
sieved nobly, an intense look in a print
Cluster buster of pink with lengthy legs that sprint
Awake, O Mother, awake!
Your glory, an echo of a bygone prime.
Your once-mighty bow, now broken lies,
A fragile stick, bereft of might.
A glorious Queen, who begot all,
Fades away, like autumn's fall.
Ravaged by those her womb helped bore,
Betrayed by those she trusted most.
They claimed you died of lack,
Yet feasted at your wake.
As they entombed you, tears fell like rain,
They lament, "We wish you’d never left."
But when you rose, they fled in fear,
Their false grief laid bare.
When spring arrives, all will be green again
And the deposed Queen will again reign.
We arrived early at the Fairmile
We’re welcomed by Jason’s warm smile
He made a pot of tea
For my hubby and me
I’m happy we’re staying a while!
Our bedroom was spotlessly clean
And as for the breakfast cuisine
The huge choice was amazing
(Overnight oats I’m praising)
We feasted like a King and Queen!
The pre–order system is great
It ensured the food on our plate
Was ready on time
And it tasted divine
One downside I’ve put on some weight!!!!
For treats you need not travel far
The lounge has an honesty bar
Drinks and tasty snacks
Like yummy flapjacks
This guesthouse should rank a four star!
Hosts Jason and wife Melanie
In tandem, they work seamlessly
I can truly attest
They look after each guest
Shame Fairmile’s not closer to me!
There’s plenty more that I could say
But sadly I’ve not got all day
If it’s in your plans
To visit St Anne’s
The Fairmile’s the best place to stay!
"Forever" seemed like a long time
The taste buds had worn off the desire to eat from the same plate
My eyes feasted on other froral ceramic plates not of my cabinet
I ate from one plate to the next interchangeably
How fast the vows had forgoten the path to my heart
My "plate" just as beautiful, i wonder how fast my eyes had chosen open blindness
............................
Here i lay, breathing by neck
Dying two fold
acknowledging the glitter was only granular's of poison from the grim reaper
My plate is broken and so is my health
I only have myself to crucify
I natured it
Entertained it
Invited it in
Does the feasting of a little cat make a tiger strong?
Does the fasting of a tiger make a plump kitten weak?
Is fasting a righteous rite? Is feasting morally wrong?
Isn't the cleanliness of the heart something one should seek?
Jesus feasted with people and fasted in quietude.
He viewed each being, with a spectacle of optimism.
Pharisees did vice versa, with a cynical attitude.
They were not philanthropic. Their tap root was dogmatism.
We fast, Johanians do too, they trumpeted. Why don't you?
Self-righteousness, like Banyan roots, had deeply tugged at them.
Jesus brought a wedding scene before their distorted view.
Do guests of the wedding fast when the groom is at his helm?
Why patch old cloaks with new ones and fill old skins with new wine?
With new canvas, paint, and brush, why don't we make new design?
Noah loaded great beasts on an ark
and cleaned messes from morning til dark
But a man's gotta eat,
so he feasted on meat
and at least he had less to dis-bark!
Words
I came by a couple of my forgotten friends today.
They are words,
Mowing and Scythe.
It’s about sixteen years!
How heartily we relished our time together!
Scythe accompanied me, resided in my right hand,
Together we raided sugarcane fields, edges of paddy fields, and distant green horizons.
We collected tokens of happiness.
Mowing joined us as we met tall tender grass.
We three feasted on sweat,
Tidied the severed grasses in a green girl’s move,
Like she combs and braids her silky seasoned hair.
We were to barter our gains
With some puny-powered coins.
Many wouldn’t take them for nothing.
But that “nothing” would reward our pains.
Such sweet-sour scorching moments have gone.
We have separated in our parts.
In our green-forsaken days,
We meet in words.
i surrender
i've fought this war far too long
you've consumed every last bit of me
i have nothing left
you took my body and my brain
you plated them up nicely and feasted on me
you enjoyed every minute of my suffering
so
you win
i can't feel this emptiness anymore
you own me
and now
you've ruined me
The land lies
Chilled and stilled.
Whether flatlands
Or rolling hills.
Damp, cold, and alone;
She doesn't feel at home.
It's hard to feel at home
Where warmth and purpose seem
To be in decline or have departed.
The land knows that she was made to yield;
To yield grain, nuts, fruits, and vegetables.
But when she gives pause and thought,
She realizes that she's right at home.
She surrenders herself to a state of rest,
And when thought upon, she no longer feels
Bored and alone, but very much at home.
She becomes pleased that yesterday's yields
Are being utilized and feasted upon. So, she
Reclines and anticipates the yields of Spring.
She can't wait for the sprouting seeds and blossoming
trees. But until then, the lifeline of the land's present
season will thrive on patience, trust, sleep, and anticipation.
010624PS
I could never understand
the festive stories that were told
of the making of snowmen.
but I was building sandcastles
upon beaches with sands of gold.
I could never understand
the festive stories that were told
of frostbites and binding blizzard snow.
when I was getting sunburnt
by ray`s of blinding light.
I could never understand
how we celebrated the birth of one
who was against materialisation
but yet we bought and spent big
I could never understand
how we celebrated the birth of one
who walked with the poor
but yet greed was our guiding light.
I could never understand
how we celebrated the birth of one
who helped the starving
but yet we feasted till we nearly burst.
Norms will be tested
How much principles valued
Our claims turn feasted.
????????????????
At the early dawn,
when eyes slip away from the fraying night.
I feasted upon a dime of hours lost.
The wasteful minutes,
the misheeded seconds,
life demands here.
At the moment,
I feel like running back to the past
like a wind,
To rewind the hand of time.
Clutching it down,
tight in the grasp of my hand.
and never let it slips away.
All but….
an illusion.
© ??????????????
In a cherished of woke visions,
our Lord Jesus Christ gently spoke,
and said, "Feed my people,"
as loaves of bread, fish, and fruit
cascaded down from His blessing hands.
A font of sustenance and love into
infinite wicker baskets.
Us reapers knelt to Him,
as the hungry of the world bowed
their heads in thanksgiving and
feasted at the Lord's endless table. ~
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