The human body may be a marvel,
yet the aesthete prefers his were marble
or gold or some other precious metal
with a life approaching to eternal!
For flesh and blood fail miserably
as a hope suitable for longevity,
requiring daily sustenance
for hopeful future permanence.
Then, too. human flesh isn’t practical,
it offers life that’s neither long nor natural;
and who wants a life abbreviated
when there’s much to be appreciated?
While others rely on pharmaceuticals
for medications made of mostly chemicals?
None of which a body made of marble
needs unless fools ignore a warning label!
While others take up a livelihood
that benefits others care for their good,
bringing them a measure of fame and wealth
yet cannot guarantee their own sound health.
Accept therefore what aesthetes recommend
accept life just as it has always been.
For neither diligence nor luck nor miracle
has yet forestalled the inevitable.
Deficit of
wonder
climbing
the walls
Deficit of
verbiage
the message
forestalled
Deficit of
promise
the future
on hold
Deficit of
time
eternity
— shoaled
(The New Room: August, 2024)
Conductor’s wand in final phrase
Forestalled the anticipated roar,
Cast deafening hush of silent awe,
Leaving the audience ablaze…
May 10, 2021
Sometimes money isn’t enough,
the wheat rejects the chaff
Wealth attained by winnowing gain,
the scarecrow only laughs
Sometimes money isn’t enough,
the numbers rise and fall
Interest accrues¬ as attrition renews
—the richest count forestalled
(Valley Forge: November, 2020)
May tides of the sea thwart!
May the manoeuvre of Sun and Moon be forestalled!
May cool breezing be ceased! May raining billow be foiled!
Whatever may befall!
May the earth be restrained!
May the birds twitting resonance be precluded!
May the flying bird’s pinions be shackled! May the blooming floret be evanescent!
Whatever may befall!
May terra firma and sky be adjoined! Whatever may unearth at this juncture!
But the solicitudes of yours may not be discarded from my reminiscences.
How sensation it is! How wonder it is! Without you there is no life for me.
Whatever may befall!
God what a mess,
My head is spinning,
Each day more stress,
Am I still winning?
Wall street crashing,
The economy near stall,
The media’s constant bashing,
Pelosi’s new curve ball.
My plans are now in tatters,
Forestalled at every turn,
To do what really matters
Is all I truly yearn.
I’m gearing for a fight
The like they’ve never seen,
I use my mouth to bite
And care little if I’m mean.
I’ll tear each one to shreds,
Flail them side to side,
Get well into their heads,
Give them quite a ride.
Clearly they don’t know
The grief they have in store,
They’ll reap what they now sow,
It’s nothing short of war.
Like Bombers flying high
Releasing their payload,
Shells falling from the sky,
I’ll give them what they’re owed.
Cross me once
And risk my wrath,
Yours the choice
To take that path.
Cross me twice
And stay awake,
You’ve cast your dice,
What a mistake.
I imagine being there in enchanting places
Conjuring up insights of sensuous images
Driving friendship to threshold of romance
Confessing my love when she isn't around.
When the uplifting sky adorns rosy sunrise
Quickly I abandon the constraints of norms
As soaring vibrancy celebrates the new day
Guiding my hopes to contours of happiness.
A look in her eyes now transforms my heart
Sending intimate hints to commit a trespass
As a glimpse of her smile boldly reaches out
Tearing down the barriers that hold us apart.
I've seen a change in the way she responds
When walk in the park turns to jubilant stars
And touch of her hand claims a flirting glance
Enticing our vibes to command fervor of life.
Yearning for encounter of alluring emotions
Fire of desire intoxicates dreams of the dawn
In passionate kisses forestalled for so long
Reaching finality of love in each other's arms.
January 16, 2019
Placed 2nd: My friend, My Love contest by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
HM: Strand #700 contest by Brian Strand
First off-
you're E~did,
fawned like frozen in a wrong beam of time-
God is only justified by his own usury,
and we don't do the forgotten as a figurine...
We all are falling,
forwardly and softly forestalled,
faked,
forgiving four fickle frogs,
finding our fifty nine frot foe,
just as we fizzle the fantastic flowing fight, fitted-
if that's enough to gloat see me stuck in the next simple dictionary-
having nothing to say to the ears of men who listen,
children who dream,
women who can misinterpret.
Sleeping is optional,
sojourn is an ancient land full of those flaws,
free,
we are not this-
fleet,
we are so fast at adeptly encouraging the sanctimony of the next...
I know it's there somewhere beyond the clouds,
beyond the snow which gently floats and falls
on arborvitae's shoulders like a shawl
and o're the face of summer with a shroud.
Above where prayerful birches rise unbowed;
and stand once more among the proud and tall,
no longer will the season be forestalled
once the gifts of nature are endowed.
Across the forest floor the winter's chased
by waves of green now stirring in the frost -
impatient youths who gasp first springtime breaths
and proudly flaunt the colors they replace,
while buried hints of Autumn are embossed
beneath the ice that feeds upon their death...
My Modern Age Reality
The daily commute a daily grind
Bumper to bumper you will find
Asking “are you out of your mind”
Hoping to spot someone that is kind
Road rage is now the new adage
To get where you’re going at this stage
Maybe this can be forestalled with courage
Though that is wishful thinking at this age
My child in the back seat
She’s my daily joy when I do pick her up and we meet
Her arms outstretched as if to greet
Though the morning drop off isn’t so neat
A woman in a job no less
That a man used to do my guess
Why does it feel so thankless
Although that paycheck is a bliss
At the end of a long day I just want to rest
But hubby dear has announced a guest
Shopping, cooking, cleaning is now my quest
After all we want to show our best
The closing of the door and a big sigh
Tells me that bedtime is nigh
But first tidy up both low and high
Maybe it’s worth a hug from my big guy
My head comes to rest on the pillow
A last glance out the window at the willow
And a snuggle with mine bedfellow
Leads to a day’s afterglow
That’s all I have for today’s sideshow
Andreas Simic©
Time is a thief-
a thief that steals dreams-
then youth-
and finally life.
Time is an enemy-
an enemy that cannot
be appeased-
defeated-
or forestalled-
only sacrificed to.
As long as time has existed
not one second has ever been
repeated or reclaimed.
Time gives back nothing-
it only takes away.
Time is a taskmaster that extracts
a high price when wasted-
yet promises no rewards for
frugality.
Time cannot be managed-
it manages those seeking to do so.
Time creates all and destroys all-
time is life and time is death-
time is infinitesimal-
time is eternal.
Time is our captor-
yet also our liberation-
and until such-
only coexistence is allowed-
an uneasy truce.
Time is the overseer of all things-
we are all its slave.
March 7, 2014
She patiently sits by the telephone
Awaiting a ring from the one she adores
It seems far too long since her husband's been gone
She wonders if anyone's minding the store
She flips on the switch in the darkened hall
Walks quietly over the holes - back and forth
Reports from her gun long ago were forestalled
She wiped clean the deed by excising the source
Mary what you doing now
As Spring perfume inspires the air
Rise up from your rocking chair
It's so lovely in the South
Mary, what you doing now
Suspicion had mounted until they were caught
There in the hallway, her sister with him
Screaming, she shot five more times as they dropped
On learning the truth, Mary ceased to exist
Mary what you doing now
Inside those honeysuckle prayers
Ask forgiveness, you'll be spared
Long forgotten when and how
Mary, what you doing now
His mother just died
Your sister was kind
A guiltless embrace
Til you blew them away
Mary what you doing now
Have you no memories to share
Must you always sit and stare
Dead within and lost without
Mary, what you doing now
Say, Mary, what you doing now?
Worthy Words of Wisdom
© Ben Burton
Beware harsh words which sometimes pierce the lips
Or enter cyberland through angry fingertips
Though silence might not sit well with a friend
Silence leaves no footprint one might soon wish to rescind
And worst of all the ones that cannot ever be recalled
For death denies apology, regret can't be forestalled
Which leaves but one sure method with no inherent risk
Worthy words of wisdom proffered by our mothers
To the point and framed like this:
"If you can't say something nice about somebody
Keep your big trap shut"
Little bird, what troubles thee
is it the worm in your belly
little bird, what pains thee
is it the worm of misery
is it the bitterness in your heart,
or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart,
or the hurt that holds you captive
is it the cancer of bitter love,
or the loss of deserved affection
is it the cruel withdrawal of
his tenderness and compassion
life is much too brief
and youthful love's even briefer still,
your forestalled relief
keeps you from seeing His eternal will
what befalls you
is neither unshared nor a mystery
God sheds His tears for you
in the midst of your painful agony
little bird, what troubles thee
is it the worm in your belly
little bird, what pains thee
is it the bane of misery
Smooth, effervescent glowing skin
Free of blemish and blighting toxin
Undulating curves of glossy satin
Red cloak shrouds comely Saracen
At the core a being of fibrous substance
From stem to sternum burgeoning affluence
Delicately woven fabric with scintillating elegance
At close quarters emanating a sweet fragrance.
A free-flowing stem signaled detachment
A stalky divide prevented rapprochement
Intricate, inner designs forestalled advancement
Coarse, deepening chasm threatened determent.
Forthwith, I loves tender began to preen
Steadily peeling through the stealthy sheen
Cutting to heart's core, affections to glean
Loves' seed from ensconcing barriers did ween.
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