Country's pleasant Thought-flights
City's rocked, ripped apart.
That upyelled of whose disturbance
Blows, bewilderingly.
To lighten, so lesson
All burdens, their headaches
One quietsome patch of sky, to lay
Whose sereneness upon.
Drop, as I drift, whose moorings' ton
Of care-weights, Earth-free.
Fancy flights erupt
from candlelight encounters
in the cozy nooks
where books await curious
seekers of new adventures.
A kingdom that’s ruled by flights of fancy,
suddenly whimsical has been turned sour;
Peasants facing collective tragedy
being brought to life is leaving them dour;
Afraid to truly close their eyes and see
they all fight the same nightmarish power;
Squeezing into all that they have outgrown
will bravely boost up that childhood backbone.
In the blinding light,
or the blinding dark,
a moth navigates
an alien world
by its own shadow.
Flights of Human Fantasy
They come to each of us, at times, in our deep dreams.
And they speak to us of possibilities that address and
echo certain events and situations:
The Time,
The Place,
And the “If” and “When,”
And they give each of us, at times,
A “Soul’s View of Our Earthly Life,”
And what to do, what to dream of and hope for
As each of us seek to confront and to understand
Our Human Moments of fear, doubts, and strife.
And our conscious abilities to overcome them all.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 6, 2023 (Verse)
~acute hearing site
vision sharply hooked beak the
flight of owl silent~
2/26/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
The floors must be moved before the lit night
So that in middle free fall
We shall flap are hands and arms and fly right
We land on this earth raw
Rebirth, forgiven, renewed awaiting the masters call
11/7/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Light recedes at sunset
and night starts to assemble.
No longer bright, Sol slowly sinks,
as bats take flight amidst the shadows
and soon fly from sight, blending with the dark.
(Rhyme)
10/30/2021
Something Beautiful 5 line rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
A chorus of crickets create melodies for sweet slumber
Where dreams take wing on enchanted flights to far away places
But even in a dream she disappears from my heart
musicians change and feathery melodies light up the dawn
As the coffee pot begins churning out cups of caffeine
Daydreams take me to faraway places, there, my heart will find her
10-4-2021
Your Best Sijo Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
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The chick killed its brother;
the weak have to be expelled
from the nest,
It had to be the last and the first,
the one still instinctively pecking,
still begging from the raw red mouth
to endure long enough to soar.
She feeds it the meat of its sibling,
She has no sorrow for death
yet she must blind her eyes
to do this thing.
It gulps, grows stronger.
The consumed brother helping
to shed downy floss,
to nourish new sleek feathers.
Morsels are brought, foreign tastes,
until a small bird is put into a gaping beak.
It is not an eaglet,
the bird was born weak and yet survived
until now.
Upon a time it is chased from the eyrie,
left alone on wilderness winds
where only wings
that have thrived upon their kin
may become mothers.
on perfumed flights of honeysuckle
comes to me in bursts
the memory of you
when looking down
a gentle moon
casts its many blessings
love
transcends
eternity
AP: 1st place 2022
Submitted on September 3, 2020 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (3) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The sky fades, a pale blue,
night is nigh, wet with dew.
Cooler air, fresh and clear,
blows fair, as dusk draws near.
Fireflies blink flashing lights
that sync in courtship flights.
And Sol sinks out of sight;
a ball of crimson light.
Two flights
Of fancy
No Nancy
Not Drew
He's on the
Other side
Of a picture
You knew
Far away
You forgot
To tell
The well's
Never there
Like a wrong
In a witness
Of a thirst
For a care
No then's
Another day
You will or
You won't
Then there's
A better part
Of I will
And I don't
So goes
The story
No sorry
I'll say
Just adust
For a little while
For afar and
Away
Gone with
A let me
Down
Your sure
But your not
Its me with
Two hands
For a hold
With a shot
Two flights
Of fancy
I'm antsy
You see
Yet my first is
A second glance
Of a peace
That's for
For me
June 2020
Ohio
An old butterfly wing
entangled in a web
flays his tether
with each gust of wind.
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