The whit of peeve groans
slopes & rise,
slopes & rise as looping voices under disguise,
heave of raving voiced begrudge,
slopes & rise these inward knolls
burden streaming brooks
and un-foraged load,
so far, the mile, path to uneasy soul,
therein mirage fairing inward ethos’
grave starved quieting the mocking groans;
in the real, not so.
O suffering,
those unconscious woes’
deprave, hast wander’d thorough.
Still I sleep. Still I dream.
Whilst dormant conjures probe
tiniest relate with ancient lunatics,
inward hidden.
Felt it from the initial line,
the joy of the writing process.
Poetry wins when it’s a mess,
old words crumble into fine wine.
Four stanzas and a form align,
every word foraged plays a part.
This is the birth of written art.
Potent smell of ink’s oxygen.
A poet discovers her pen,
an affair ripening slowly.
Makeshift art
patches of cloth
second-hand music
on textbook drums
Cuisine foraged
from lawns untended
literature culled
torn pages blended
Creative genius
knows no bounds
objects of derision
make beautiful sounds
A dime in his pocket
hope in his heart
Just his clothes on his back
but he’d make a new start
Constricted at home
he took to the road
Foraged for food
yet upright he strode
Three days and two nights
of this, all it took
For him to come home ~
let mom and dad off the hook
Once, I can't remember when,
A dog named K-9 came to mind
K-9 was a massive dog
And he was of a particular kind
He did not spend his time in play
He sniffed and foraged everyday
He was an undercover dog
And he was good
He found some interesting things
When hunting in nearby woods.
He had to pass his information on
To other K-9s
Of course, he should.
Not to every dog, mind you
Only a tiny few.
Just the particular kind
That K-9 knew.
Anxiously anticipating annual activity
Blissfully bound by bravado
Consuming cold contagious concoction
Dizzily developed devilish desire
Eagerly expecting ego's enlightenment
Feverishly foraged familiar fraternity
Garnished gowns graciously gathered
Hopeful heralded hithered happenstance
Instantly intimated identical ideologies
Jointly jousted jovial juxtaposition
Kaleidoscopic keepsake kept kinetic
Longing languid lustful longitude
Miraculous marvelous momentous movement
Nursing nocturnal natal namesake
Observing others obstinate opinions
Preparing precious paternal post
Quickly quietly questing quarters
Radiant reared remained rambunctious
Stifled stern stayed sturdy
Transmitting tantalizing topical teachings
Understanding umbrage utilizing unity
Vital vibrant visceral visions
Watchful wonderful whimsical wishes
Yonder yearning youthful years
Zanily zigzagged zesty zenith
TREASURES
mesmerising
asides
reside
to
display
the
extraordinary
&
delicate
blooms
a choice
narrative
survives
gently
resides
in
patterned
fragments
swirling
in the
spectacular
detail
so
apposite
&
contemporary
a foraged
signifiance
monumental
precious
of
intention
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Greedy goats were invited to the Wednesday feast;
They foraged their dinners ahead of the sly wildebeest.
Quenching their thirst with quail juice alamode.
A gallimaufry of raindrops stirred within a commode.
I asked who invited these creatures, and of course it was Tom.
He did not realize they were all related to my husband’s mom.
I thought they were gone, I said as they came through the door.
My ex and his mother, what a mess, huh, Lenore?
he was pouring at the happening and usually there is a fair amount of disdain for the enthusiasts
who like to sidle up to sample the snacks, libations and what have you goodies.
he was a wisp of fair blond - a hippy kid.
he asked me if I would like him to crack my can of brew
I told him that this was not necessary
I looked at some stuff and listened to some other stuff
trying to maintain a bit of elbow room
while the crowds swirled and yammered
biding some time before refill and then I went back for another and he
cracked this one for me and said "cheers"
I drank it down and went for a walk down the street
I did not want to appear to be too gluttonous so I gave it some minutes
when I resurfaced in the crowded room and foraged thru the groups back to my man
he smiled and said "I grabbed this one at the bottom so that its chilled and now it needs to be shotgunned".
I laughed and retorted with double thumbs up
Impressed that this cat accurately assessed my quench and provided a
responsive and congenial atmosphere in one that can be rather unpleasant and clannish
my man had it
and I salute him for it
the damn hippy dippy
had it
kindness
A dark veil
O'er eyes and ears
Have set phrases to stun.
Standards for me
Omnipotence for thee,
Tripping over
grayed limping liberty,
Crumbling to a blurry pause.
Trekking through a
Field of freedoms trampled,
Foraged souls
Appear and wilt
In the fiery smartphone snapped chat.
Hypnotized by systemic doping,
we await elusive belly tickles:
To resurrect us from our
collective nod.
Not often
you find such a landslide
of conkers
but my father saw them
glossy brown
among the hedgehog casing.
So we foraged
with the rove beetle, earthworm, mite,
lifting box-loads of mahogany jewels
into the back of the Riley.
Going home
I was ready to stage my strung shells
for the big fight
in the playground.
Time was short
and I was in a hurry
to catch all the fun I could hold.
Next term
it could be origami
or the sprung reel
of the Yo-yo
and then the winter snows.
Fourteen frenzied folk dancers telling fairy tales
Finding fifteen frisky folk singers, some with tails.
Friendly folklore frightening fools, freckles and more.
Forbidden folktales foraged by frisky faeries galore.
Fitting a folksy framework of fulfillment in field number four.
I am inspired to folk dance my way out there, my interest doth soar.
40000 years of aborigine dreaming
As a hot sun beat down in daytime beaming
A sacred place where women foraged and gave birth
It was a place for water in a life balancing girth
The local Nyoongar people lived their Dreamtime
In nature’s circle forever intwined
As you walk the pathways with the whistling wind
Feel the Rainbow Serpent turning time without end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Suddenly, the days are colder
wind rushing briskly on my shoulder;
summer shadows fade and disappear
in the cloudy grays of the northern sphere.
Here it comes, the autumn fall
mix of windy colors in each squall
crimson reds, glints of golden perfections
glowing florescent, irridiscent pink reflections.
Brilliant purples in India ink
with summer teetering on the brink
in saturated mocha yellowed hues
brittle brown in between greens of yews.
Color me a picture palette changing
blended in each shade arranging,
foraged leaves and pumpkin bliss
released by autumn's subtle kiss.
“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.”
—Ernest Hemingway
An incandescent drip of flavor
falls from the tip of my lip
words gathered and built
as my thoughts delicately fulfilled
the symphonies played throughout my mind
Entranced, my spirit soars
seeking its solace
in an empty space
where the lines of your soul are traced
I am not a writer but a slayer of sounds
echoing each emotion
foraged in the fortitude of light
My fingertips are their caretakers
they caress the pulse of your bosom
encircling each bit of tenderness
rising alongside my words
I put you on display
with every drop of ink
oozing out the fibers of my grain
My craft is a heartbeat
You are my sea
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