It thunders through like a rampaging doom,
water cracked the stone, and carved out this chute,
the locals around here call it the Flume,
white water churning through a confined route.
Roiling, throwing mist onto the rocks,
always wet and sporting a sheen of green,
so loud is the torrent it’s hard to talk
over the noise as the water careens.
Empties out into four small waterfalls,
which widen into a wading-deep pool,
folks splash around, and the kids short and tall
dunk heads in the cascades, thinking it’s cool.
But never dare try riding the cataract,
even dumb kids know they will not come back.
I don't endorse 'going with flow'
for of course you never know
if the current will funnel
you down the drain
the tubes or flume
through the tunnel
toward the spume
to where you end up
in the sewer below
so as I'm in no rush to gush
or feel completely flushed
here and now I do avow
for me the bowl on the whole
is a non-starter a definite no-go
How I hate it when they call me a clown,
Yet I can't help but make people laugh.
It comes unbidden, needing no invitation —
As though a trove of jokes is placed in my throat.
Often I try to bridle my face and talk tough,
But when a flume of gloom drowns spirits deep down,
Then my sense of humour becomes their salvation —
A spring of joy that quenches sorrow’s drought.
Time has taught me that humour holds a balm ~
It lifts the weight boredom lays on minds.
It brightens paths in life's dark forlorn mines,
And lifts me too, when others' jokes make me smiles.
Humour sheds tears when no cry’s in mind,
It soothes loneliness with enduring calm.
A cashless payment offered sorrow as a fine,
A thrill that ricochets through veins for miles.
A chapter of me should wear the clown's toga proud,
Since joy and radiance my humour brings to faces,
A talent that needs no stress to express,
The reason my presence delights all and sundry.
The starry night,
Put me on a Trailblazer,
Walking through a crowd,
Without making a scene,
Of all the people I have seen,
Is there a place where I have been,
To a corridor where I have been there since,
I give myself a triumphant glimpse,
Until the eclipse,
Overshadowed by the blink,
It is not what it seems,
I did not play a game,
For bringing myself to blame,
I am riding a flume,
I didn't see myself as playing the flute,
It is not my haute but my forte,
To be me in my shoes,
The right size is not mine,
For someone so kind,
I didn't mind,
To give up my thrown,
To others who are someone,
That I admired.
Cocoa tacos and cacao pizza,
fudge fries for sweet crème dipping;
I missed one! Forgive my amnesia;
A jello slide right into gumballs,
just be careful how you ride down;
Children are accosted by its falls;
The root beer float can refill itself,
so stay mindful of your limit;
Cannot be wise to inflate yourself;
Rosy field of strawberry shortcake,
You can eat it but at your own risk;
Berries bite it’s not an easy bake;
Chicken and waffles at every hour
dressed all over in sugared maple;
They won’t sweeten someone sour;
Look up at neon marshmallow moons,
grab ‘em for drinks that glow in the dark;
Stir them with candied edible spoons;
Vanilla mountain with a peach flume,
things missed in Wonka’s chocolate room.
Three brothers with their Halloween costume
Played trick and treat after riding log flume
Men asked them to pose awhile
For a photogenic smile
But in a shocking countenance, they fume.
Over the flume in a barrel,
consumed by a rainbow cascade;
Oh, the adrenaline of inundation!
Sumptuous the rush of shock therapy;
Chaos is the fresh start,
that flow is the restart of your heart;
Cataclysmic charge inside the mist,
heightened by Ozone scenting the air;
Rolling me like a beast,
gutted of everything but the fall;
Over the flume in a barrel,
consumed by a rainbow cascade;
Petrified, high on the speed tumbling;
I want it to stop, I want that ride;
In it’s mouth I taste it,
the rush racing from fingers to toes;
A mirror of personality,
ideas explode into action;
Insanity is chance,
don’t sweat it you’ll float to the bottom;
Over the flume in a barrel,
topsy-turvy is unnerving;
When you stand up you’re left awestruck,
consumed by a rainbow cascade.
Buzz buzz go the jet ski's,
Chug chug go the glass bottomed boats,
The speedboats race leaving a long white flume,
The water bubbles from the pool aerator.
There's all of the beautiful people who stride around like posers,
There's the strange body shapes that just let it all hang out.
There's the floats and the balls,
There's the parents warning calls.
Children learn to swim from side to side,
You can see their parents so full of pride.
True friendship must be cultivated.
Same as the furrows of the spring,
For it requires dedication, much debated,
And a touch of nurturing.
Some may panic at its scarceness.
Not knowing what the harvest brings,
But those with fortitude and patience
Will reap the most fulfilling things.
The fields of friendship are vast.
And each one is unique in its own right.
Some may be rocky and aghast,
While others are soft and light.
But with time, care, and attention,
They all can yield a bountiful crop.
Of laughter, love, and intention,
That will never come to a stop.
So let's abide care of our crops and flume.
With love and kindness as our guide,
And watch as our friendships bloom.
Into something that will never subside.
True friendship is a treasure.
That's worth higher than gold or silver.
And with it comes a lifetime of pleasure.
That will never, ever wither.
Written: June 10, 2023
O lily blooming near my darling's tomb
Scent her with your immaculate white bloom
She's sleeping just like in her mother's womb
O lily blooming near my darling's tomb
She sought my love and care like a fresh flume
Yet, to her death brought an unending doom
O lily blooming near my darling's tomb
Scent her with your immaculate white bloom
29 June 2021
GENIUS
ingenuity in genius,
the genie generously
gifted the flume —
the unusual plummet
from the ultimate
to the grand duchy splash.
cascading waterfall of bliss
in continuous harrowing twist
of rainbow fish. golden scales
sprout perennially like the thrust
of a fountain top —
nude skin kisses the purple sky,
dives into the rich deep torrent
in search of secret treasure —
where some swallow bubbles
in fear of sharks and whale-size
caverns — wisdom sought,
taught as a spark amidst the dark.
true genius never evil,
not a mad scientist,
but a joyous soul
in dizzying baptismal vortex,
hand in hand with the Everlasting Light
who has everything, under control.
11/26/2018
pursuing the moon with a spark of bleached light
a pendant ride along flume marks the sky for time
the roar of a constant flight warns down the line
a serpent's path in a fly by night, tightly rolling tale
speed is the means and meaner on these rails
track endures every mile marker past perpetual
escaped steam taunts with a slow hiss and miss
leader with a grinding ax and wind of the iron spit
cadence is the sound of steels sync and cast
the clank of iron on track stacked for rolling fast
passes any beast around worth a match
the wheels a seizing master of tortured might
to this man made beast now a soaring steed
down the line a tremble is the fair warning heed
vibrations count seconds to the sight of steam
a peak of bleak light blinds with a stout beam
fear stands clear this fueled Goliath feeds a need
built for a rolling fury, Rebel Engine #353
Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
SECOND TIME AROUND
Somewhere in the heat of night,
out of a dark and dismal gloom
she'd be there, but out of sight.
Thinking it's a beam of light,
her chariot, her witches broom,
somewhere in the heat of night
she could dream, if it was right,
and find her love and nearly groom,
she'd be there, but out of sight.
None could see her, for the blight,
nor see the glitter of her flume,
somewhere in the heat of night.
There she pans for gold, and right,
out of the fear she'll meet her doom
somewhere in the heat of night.
She'd love him again. She might.
if he could see her through the gloom,
somewhere in the heat of night,
she'd be there, but out of sight.
© Ron Wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Your waters cleanse
my red-stained night,
my dredged thoughts,
rich petals drenched
between crystal and lace.
Do not pretend to dry of earth
or lips or veins.
Do not speak
without a moistened tongue
of love or spring in bloom.
My softest buds shall wilt,
brittle without your flume
flowing free in streams of rouge.
My reddest rose shall close,
alone to wither, brittle and brown.
For now, deepen in your sleep.
My love's rebirth shall lift your dreams
before they drift away
in June's tides, and I shall
float like moon beams
over your rising waves.
We never meant
to say sorry
it was more of a smoke filled
tiring of breathless gills
The morning wakes us all
all too soon
cats on tables
and cigarettes without a flume
Time tells
all of us will die
hard to be black and white
tend to shoo away little smiles
Time has a great grace
of wage and handfuls
of terrible mistakes
I heard today
he shot him
little sleepy town in minnesota
been dreaming of death
and how sad that from now on
the man i once knew
will never see daylight again
what is wrong with us
society is a
filth of regret
might fly back and visit him in prision one day
just to say hello
mistakes of others make you feel desperate
no use in making amends
talked to my dad tonight,
gonna send me some money for Christmas
i can see his lights,
and the brilliant display
how i miss them,
unlike no other
my dad, my sister and of course
my drug addicted brother
aint to late to go back,
but for what?
just maybe only for them cause no matter what happens
my family is my heart, my soul, and my kin.
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