August augmented Summer's stay,
but now takes tiny breaths, biding her time
to slowly set verdant vines,
those lofty leaves upon tall trees, and
green grains to feebly fade-
to paint plush colors, framing Fall-
as September styles the Autumn age.
Me, alone,
in understanding
that everything
is in the same moment.
Happening feebly now,
hobbling along
like some cripple
caught under hurricane debris.
I can see it now,
the dreams I will have tomorrow
happening now,
later, again, today.
I can smell the meal
from the next town over
and feel the hunger
I will never cease to satisfy,
ever.
It itches
like a mad dog with rabies,
scratching its back
against loose bark
for the bear.
Someone will hear
these metaphors
and take them to heart.
Someone else
will keep moving along,
ignoring everything.
It is all happening at once,
the commotion.
And all we can do
is toss our beliefs forward
into the sea,
and the sea
will toss them back to us
without a care in the world,
making us question
if those similes were metaphors,
or if the sea dried up.
Mood-enhancers
For their music.
Mind-entrancers
Time slows; then stops.
That voiced sweetly
In rock-skipped brook.
As wee, feebly
Recall. Sad plops!
One, as girlish
Whom once, greeting
Street-leapt, a-swish
Hint of love drops.
God takes care of us from above,
His blessings brace with lasting love.
Peace reaches us on wings of dove,
ambit of divine feel grows
in soul’s sanctum where bliss glows.
Fear haunts in the darkness of night,
God dispels it with astral light.
Gracious kind bequest of delight
suffuses dull life with glee
as we go by His decree.
Compassion we seek, get from Him
to live devout life to the brim,
pious hearts pulsate with His hymn.
Distressed get help in disguise,
become copiously wise.
Peace prevails in the mangled mind,
traces tranquility defined.
With trail of mirage we’re aligned,
wise life’s long path isn’t in view.
That’s when He gives foresight new.
Anguished times’ wrath we feebly face,
but escape the fright with His grace
as sanguine solace we embrace
calmly without vanity
at peace peak with sanity….
Sing His glory
in the realm of eternity.
Frail crescent moon hanging feebly
Ghost of a shadow in the dark
Unpretentious stars take the stage
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
My love for you is like a crashing plane:
exhilarating pace, without control:
you’re equatorial around the pole.
Why meet my sunshine with torrential rain?
My heart is Dealey Plaza, you’re on Main.
I often think destruction is your goal -
you seem to me a well-intentioned troll.
Profundities, once uttered, are inane:
your utterances, colourfully drab,
are tart as custard, sweet as succotash:
your slow-burn humour, like a smash-and-grab,
resembles credit cards. I’ll stick to cash.
No self-respecting homeless hermit-crab
would ever trade with you. You’re feebly rash.
Donning my Sunday best,
I glance in the mirror—
a twinkle, a gleam in my eyes.
A special day today.
My eyes lift to the heavens,
a miracle in a way.
The stairs to the big blue sky
invitingly beckon mourners
between the hours
of never and forever,
within reach for those called home.
I tremble feebly on the first few steps,
casting a glance at the grand entrance.
Visiting hours—
around the clock.
It is a road well-travelled
for centuries,
a haven for resting souls.
Hope ignited by belief
that the Creator
keeps turning the pages
of the book of mortal souls—
coming home
to their final resting place.
Old lies remote, yet they find a way
Though it does not shine like New Year's day
It wakes hope to raise it to the top
Ask past and present for them to swap
It's the age that will soften their hearts
Heaven's eyes will see, and Grace imparts
Angels sing a suite composed by Bach
As that day nears, boost time on a clock
Old ask politely, excuse me dear
New says certainly, it's nice and clear
As an old wish sits on top, tick tock
Feebly ask, add more years please, Good Luck.
GLORIFIED STREET NUISANCE
Fumbling fingers falter, failing to fasten firmly.
Fine fabric falls, flapping feebly for all to see.
Trousers tumble, torn from their trusty tether.
Tumbling to the thighs, they tangledly twirl together.4
In streets where mischief reigns supreme,
A nuisance brews, a sight unseemly extreme.
Young rascals roam, with trousers low,
Exposing more than they ought to show.8
With swag, they claim, they strut and preen,
But sagging pants reveal a lack of sheen.¹°
Like prisoners' garb, a style they embrace,
Yet decency & sense, they discard with grace.
Their antics annoy, their behavior bold,
Disrespectful and rude, their actions unfold.¹4
With each step, they sink in moral decay,
Their future dim, in a world that's gone astray.¹6
Wish for a change, a shift in their stride,
To dress with dignity, and let swag subside.
For true greatness lies in character and might,
Not in sagging pants, and a nuisance in sight.²°
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Alliteration/Rhymes
Copyright ©?7th October 2024.
Glenn Hughes Poetry Contest- RJL, Inspired by Glenn Hughes - BLACK COUNTRY COMMUNION - BCC V (2024) RESTLESS (Hughes/Bonamassa)
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Travel on
Soul, help me through this life
Many mistakes
Done just to thrive
Oh, yes, I did do
I remain
Searching to undo
The wrongs
I love to live true
Learn to talk to me
Guide me all along
I’ve failed to find you
As you hide deep inside
So feeble your voice
So feeble you speak
I come across
Hundred more instances a day
Minds of complexity
I can’t read their way
Can’t you, the know-all
Help me get along
Unhurt by any
None hurt by me
Guide me always, at all times
You better talk to me, Soul
Somewhere from deep inside me
Learn to talk to me not so feebly
In this life polite
Help me catch the vision of Him
To be worthy of Him
I have to walk in truth’s glaring light
I do
It freezes
my breath back against my face
back against the wall;
stiff as cardboard
like frozen washing dragging on the line
my skin ignores my bones;
icy slush
slithers round the veins in my feet
and no warm blood dare enter;
my fingers
red and lumpy like raw sausages,
quick-frozen, cannot hold your hand;
the air
between us is frozen like a board –
sound hardly travels in such frost.
Grotesque
and unreal, I am a hoar-frost demon,
and you, apparently, are the Ice Queen.
Underground
must I hearken back hastily,
as you melt away into my past.
The sun
feebly lights our frosty passions,
and you melted away in the heat.
Night freezes,
and I spring up from dark below
but you are melted to a stump.
It freezes,
my breath back against my face,
back against the wall.
She feebly held on to the string…
…Scared it might gain altitude;
Like it were an exquisite diamond…
…Radiantly appealing to her heart.
So glad, she wore a splendorous smile…
…A smile as wide as Saturn’s rings;
A triple bond, none could divide,
A friend indeed right before her eyes.
Across galaxies, her voice rang loud,
Moon-stepping on stars with joyful glee;
Daring the fears she feared no more,
Evolving a light to the darkest night.
The Planets envied her precious find,
The Sun burned cold with jealousy;
Yet like a function, their bond was defined,
A beacon’s light, serene and moon-lit.
Maybe one day
you'll just
say thanks for
having me,
rearing me,
putting up with me,
parrying all my foibles,
and quaint weaknesses,
thanks for loving me, just as I am,
for loving you, just as you are,
two beings, friends,
brought here together,
momentarily, feebly,
caringly connected,
you to me
me to you
a pair.
I Silently sipping the last limping remains of wine
within the crumbling confines of my glass.
guiltlessly glistening in the amorous arms of evergreen.
Lonesomely, my eyes lift themselves
up from my blackened
blue brass bottle of bitterness
and gradually grows aware
of the arid aristocratic atmosphere.
Lustered with the luminous larks
who lurk within the numbing neon
nature of the iridescent nightlife.
But among these unfruitful flocks
feebly flutters the faint fanciful feathers of the frigid finch.
Who still sternly staggers his weakened way through the
world’s wishful
word woven woodlands of what if towards the eternally
terminal edge
of mortality.
In search of an answer
patiently perched upon the topic of
what light lingers within the relieving realms of truth.
And still some nights you touch my dreams,
though all is done and past, it seems.
Yet, out of nothing– sheer surprise...
I wither when I see your eyes,
and all that I'd thought gone at last
assaults me, as if I had asked
to visit anguish once again,
return to how I suffered then.
And still you slip behind the veil
of sleep, a realm that's soft and frail,
and tangle into all that went
away, a grief that's through and spent.
And yet how fresh it seems from there,
that darkened place. So unaware
the sleeping heart, so feebly cast—
in dreams is bound to all that's past.
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