the beauty of.......
just watching life
from my back yard
flocking birds
at a full feeder
young rabbits
sneaking out from under shed
two dogs
frolicking in tall grass
I watch the sky
floating clouds migrating
early sliver of sun
smiling down on me
I enjoy
the morning quiet time
before life
seems to speed up
and the neighbors
awake with noisy cars
before the
trash man rolls down the street
before I
lose my quietness
Daffodil-lit in the moon's tone,
a soft embrace,
a flocking companion in a dim evening.
Rear view of the stage show:
Shiva's Sati, burning in perfection,
wild at its peak, soft at its core;
a loss that shatters the hope in loneliness.
A curse beyond its cure,
no magic stick, no angel love;
brilliant light, blue shadow,
a lonely mansion within reflection.
A mechanical bloom bleeds to break,
shatters to grow up.
Timid expansions over its cold hold;
a firefly's guidance to heavenly intimacy.
What a gain—to become a memory-knowing well.
Departed in a moment,
shattered deeply;
manifested determination to exit.
Maybe it wasn't an illumination
that went blind.
A pure exchange of my tunes for your flames.
Miss you now,but you waned out forever.
La Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona, Spain is being finished after 144 years
I'm not a Christian, but can appreciate the labor of love and majestic design when I see one. I, however, find this magnificent cathedral completion being a bit late as the surrounding times had irrevocably changed
The work is finished, took so many years
Time comes for admiration, prayer, cheers
Construction's done, scaffolding's coming down
With folks be flocking way from out of town
In glory of their Lord but also land of Spain
Yet being so late, street riffraff’s in disdain
For Muslim crowds nothing but a joke
No quiet piety these steeples to evoke
Oh, Europe, Europe, one could never know
Why you admitted, nurtured and let grow
Without common roots, rejecting Mothers' Grace
A savage foreign horde of fiendish angry faith
They fill your streets, demanding Sharia
From places far, they made the ‘aliyah’
A malady, from which there’s no recourse
Sad alteration of mankind’s future course
As time flows, a church of yellow stone
This splendid site is bound to stand alone
Eyewitness, symbol-speaking, through her eyes
Of Western world corruption and demise
March 28, 2026
Lyricism of wisteria ruses…peacocking muses gushing tomes
Classicism flocking..roams & woos homes not garden gnomes
Colourful creepers cruising..schmoozing with boisterously blushing bricks
Spring exudes mysticism..oozes oodles of bamboozling serendipity flushing
Cherished fingers rushing freely..delivers..unctuous ravishingly rambunctious
Relished slivers lavishly lingers..embellished..proudly protrudes
Inspires rhyming platitudes about gratitude...fires fresh
Attitudes across a range of altitudes & latitudes
Sprinkling wryly of vintner's drily sparkle...ends strange debacle...
Skint stints of wily skinflint winter’s splinters..with hints of now..Spring sprints
But also somehow.. if one squints..get an inkling of change..
Glints of summer's tints slyly twinkling
We read of clouds and flowers,
Trees and fields and hills of grass.
Alas, like pennies spent, our hours reading words
That other poets penned and sent;
Like freed birds flocking,
Knocking at our door. The poor,
Who seek to sneak a tiny peek
Of timeless, mindless, Truth.
The emotional nakedness of humanity.
The words of natural beauty are only made to be gifted.
We gift them, each to each, in a circular of vernacular
That does not come from without. It is the most real
Of what we steal from this world of dreams.
Seems as though each story, a rememberance of our own.
It is the button of pride they touch as much as anything
We might disown. For we see a part of ourselves forgotten
In each phrase or combination of words that touches us
Where we had forgotten to look, but now recall.
For we are all; We are all. We are ALL.
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Wrapped in shawls of pure white snow,
Hearing your name again and again, it’s etched in our minds,
Speaking of you repeatedly, you've been preserved in our hearts.
On snowy beds at night, I've poured out secrets to you,
Only to you I've confessed, only to you I've boasted.
Since then, a sweet dream has unsettled me,
That sweet dream led me, restless, straight to you!
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Have my desires now been fulfilled?
Like a carpet spread wide, I fell at your feet,
Thinking I saw you, I cried in disbelief,
Sobbing deeply to myself, unable to come to you.
On your chest, true streams rumble in might,
And within my chest, poetic streams flow in delight,
Unable to bear the roaring streams, my ears fell quiet!
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Stretching hands toward the sky,
Don’t think they’re just unyielding stones,
Carving valleys, even stones have shed tears,
From the tears of mountains, many springs have begun,
Even lofty clouds have trembled before towering peaks,
Flocking like sheep, unable to surpass your summits,
I dream to be like you—this is my greatest wish!
*The Truth Shall Set You Free
Miracle Man
12/16/2024
America has become a theater,
with actors galore.
Daily, many “wanna be’s”,
are flocking to our shore.
Some lay claim to being,
the best in their crowd.
But when push comes to shove,
they become purse-proud.
Only when advantageous,
does this become fact.
It’s not what people say,
but the way many act.
*John 8:32
I woke up morning late,
oh, forsake I hope I’m not late.
Black Friday!
It’s that time of year.
The official season for shoppers is here.
I hustle simultaneously with rut of shoppers,
on the road flocking to stores and malls,
while some shop by phones making calls.
To bustle for the best deal to get.
When prices plummet, the steal is set.
I shop like it’s a reality game,
to see how much money I save,
does what consider for me to gain.
That too impulsive will bring buyer pain.
Like a rollercoaster up and down the aisle I peek,
greeting shoppers with smile as I seek.
The aisles are a ruinous display from shoppers.
I am in shattered by the fact,
where on the shelves my item lacks.
I did not consider the timing,
now too late for Christmas finding.
The simpering sound of Suzie Marie
Had all the men flocking and wanting to see
Her beautiful hair piled high in a bow
In a pretty white dress, cut short and cut low
The girl with the luscious lashes so long
The look in her eyes so fragile yet strong
The smile on her lips was a smouldering pout
She purred and she posed, whilst working them out
The simpering sound of Suzie Marie
Make men fall in love, including me
wings could drive you crazy
under the overpass, the crows
gather one by one, flapping
it is a perfect day, stuck underneath
where cars borrow the bird’s view
without a whisper or toll, torrent
of landings to complete the murder
the row, on an inner ledge, legible
perhaps eligible to a mate, could be
a male society or female offering
we who pass so quickly, only stopping
for a light or traffic jamming, see
what flies in the dark, in the face
we are the ones out of place
the fury of the flock, frenetics
relics, energetic, spot on sketchy
do they see some of the same old
cars? do they care or turn a blind eye
i haven’t forgotten but what does it matter?
it does because a poetic fuse ensues
and must in the end die out, forgotten
except by the rear end reader
who will extend the imagery for a blink
or think a deja vu when flocking with crows
in trees, on lines, under the overpass
The sun is up and coming in the morning,
The moon is waving me a sad goodbye,
The dawn of our solution,
Is cleaning our pollution,
With optimal collusion as we fry.
I wonder as I wander in the sun bright,
Why creatures of the shadows run and hide,
Perhaps they know the story,
Of nature's morning glory,
Is sleeping when the day is hot outside.
The dew is on the lawn of our contentment,
The butterfly is talking to the bees,
The bog is like a buddy,
Because the hog is muddy,
And all the birds are flocking in the breeze.
Introducing Mark Toney
The real McCoy, not phony
Works hard on accounting and income taxes
Writes poetry and prose as he relaxes
Mark fancied himself a tax expert
Cool pocket protector on his shirt
Touting tax tips he tried
Till terribly tongue-tied
Nevermore will he overexert
Hundreds flocking to Mark’s door
What does tax time have in store?
Mixed reactions to Mark’s beckoning
As they face their day of reckoning
A longing feeling fills my heart
I lean over to my love who lay cuddled up in the grass next to me
This is very new, as I never believed I should feel this level of happiness
He has taught me the love I truly feel I deserve
Always giving me the first bite
Always flocking my feathers that stick up on my left side
Always waddling beside me at just the right pace
Soon one stary cool night we entertained the big next step
Ruffled feathers swirled around us as our bodies intertwined
Your river-scented musk fills the air
Feeling the pressure inside of me until we both beautifully pop
I had never had such a smooth flight to a destination in my life
What if the apple was thrown
What if gravity is sideways
All my doctors were who’s
What if we all have our own bubbles of gravity
I mean I don’t
Join the lunch line
correctly auto
My words a flocking
Mobile over a crib
Is it just me that sees that
No down just out
Where does it start
Is gravity too close gravy
Tea for witch two
Bull looks performance
Took my breadth a
Weigh your options
Take your thyme
Orange is the rind
Let’s call them yellows
Apples could be bruises
Bananas long yellow
Lemmings short yellow
We shorten hello to h
By the second l I may kill
Ewe there are you looking at my
Use space like a room for my ings
I mean technically it is a theory
I am not saying there isn’t
but are you s
—————-u
—————-r
—————-e before the next step
Did you know if you rotate a shark 3 times it renders it
unconscious
C’mon Tik Ewe tube
Just heard the cows in the
Field has felt and fell following friend and fiend
It was my turn to be it
April hurt her eye now we are in
I sea you
I myself just me
but inside the air is more than
three
On synthetic derelict stage of deception domain,
I gyrate the split mind, ensnared by bipolarity chain.
Under illusive limelight of ostentatious time,
I’m entangled in machinated invasive paradox prime.
In make-belief life’s drama I act with no compunction,
I face fabricated faces flocking redundant in conjunction.
Identity lost in conglomerate of counterfeit facades,
I don’t perform by heart's prudent prompt if it pervades.
In masquerading faces reflected in warped mirror,
I see concealed the contorted contours of rancid rancor.
With their phony pretense a conciliation role I tactfully play,
my misshapen face of spite, the actor in me doesn't portray.
Finding a fake place to subsist in pretend archival spaces,
I’m a configured antique in the museum of masked faces.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.