From every angel born
To every shattered soul,
From every broken boy
To every soul restored,
In the hearts of man
I move to and fro.
From being a lone hand
To my heart enfrosed,
From where it begun
To where it was enclosed,
For attention treatment
They move to and fro
From where it was observed
To the hub of my soul.
rhythm of the sea
waves and tides dance in sync
to and fro as one
When the Rapture cometh
I will bide my time quietly
Not to the tremors of past consequences,
but to the calamity of their remorse
in that inevitable end of sequences
I will rise above life matter-of-factually
reigning in all I have planted and sown
I'm hardly awake
and I start to quake.
If I should choose
to switch on the news,
a message of doom
deepens my gloom.
From delusion to delusion
a world in confusion
tumbles and stumbles
as everything crumbles.
Then I see Sally
and hope starts to rally.
She's only seven
and a present from heaven.
I then hear a tweet
and sorrows retreat.
The sight of a dove
reminds me of love.
i'm not
a popsicle
i'm out of the
life cycle and
now one with
the universe
and now for the
world of sports
we take you to
the Himalayas
for the outdoor
wet blanket
covered
meditating
monk
championships
and on the
other side of
the world we
go to New
York City
for who can
eat the most
hot dogs in
the least
amount
of time but now
there's a time
out for out on
the playing
field
an orange robed
monk has walked
up to the vendor
of this event
and has stated he'd
like one with everything
Owls fly back toward the dark,
mice follow
the talons of an exposing sun.
The tramp and scurry
of predators and prey
passing each other, to-and-fro.
At the tree line, a small
clearing of calm.
Here dawn and night
mingle for a moment.
Here the fox loses the scent
of the rabbit,
the thrush goes blind to the worm;
only for a moment
at a crossroad of time.
Light and dark in perfect balance -
just for an instant,
then all directions
doom themselves once more
into perilous paths,
all must return
to the hawk-eyed tracks
of the back-and-forth,
the menacing trace
of coming and going,
the blood-splattered trails
of to-and-fro.
Smelled of orange, dense wet woods and musk.
Piercing bright blue steady eyes
Looked up theirs
Constrainted gaze upon his joyful face
So pleasant and entertaining
The Fro with the Negroni
His golden poodle alfro welcoming the bright sun
Stylish shoes, suits; a well groomed homosapian.
He took to the heat by going to the sea
And slept in the sand.
He's not just any man
A certain kind of taste
He sits in clubs and at hotels
Sippin' whiskey and cocktails
The Fro with the Negroni.
Kept mostly to his thoughts
Letting majority of others talk
A man of mystery
The Fro sippin' Negroni
Steady hands like the Drum King
Life of any party
Always a smile on his face
This stylin' man
With the golden Fro
Drinking a Negroni
He couldn’t fit his shopping cart
And suitcase through the door
And screamed at the conductor
(Quite a challenge to ignore).
Once seated, he spread out and then
Removed his socks and shoes.
Assessing just how nuts he was,
This added to the clues.
I glanced his way and sorrily,
I somehow caught his eye.
He then began describing
That the air was awful. Why?
The radiation on the train
Was there to make us sick,
But only some could feel it –
Those intelligent and slick.
I transferred cars while he still raved
And finished out my ride
In uneventful fashion
‘Til the trip home did provide
Another whacko, eating fries
And blaring on her phone
A news report in which
A screeching baby had been shown.
Incessantly, that baby wailed;
She played it on a loop.
I hoped that some brave soul
Would to the rescue somehow swoop.
But no – I had to listen
For we urbanites pretend
That it’s normal on the subway
For the crazies to offend.
A life of rushing to and fro,
Here and there trapped by the clock,
Working hard to get things done
Day in day out without a stop,
Get up late and you’ll miss
The bus, the train, or find you’re stuck
In a traffic jam, you cannot move,
You grit your teeth, you curse your luck,
With seconds wasted, minutes gone,
You ask yourself the reason why
It wouldn’t be better to opt right out
And just sit and watch the world go by.
from Entertaining Verse Poems
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
http://www.goo.gl/KDCb4a
Swinging his hips in Boogie, Woogie Roll
Gingerbread Man
A quite handsome sight with a candy cane in hand
Taking a stroll in an evening cold chill
To Currier and Ives through the white snow
Swinging his hips in Boogie, Woogie Roll
Gingerbread Man
All deck out from his head to his toes
In his best golden brown delight
With a spicy scent cologne
Swinging his hips in Boogie, Woogie Roll
Gingerbread Man
With his sweet, smooth moves
Ready to shake and bake the night away
Rolling to and fro
Swinging his hips in Boogie, Woogie Roll
Gingerbread Man
A quite handsome sight with a candy cane in hand
Taking a stroll in an evening cold chill
To Currier and Ives through the white snow
Eve Roper 12/5/2015
To my Dad...
If I could travel to and fro
The winds of change would meekly blow
And Heaven's Gate, that opened wide
Would stay shut tight, Dad at my side
Our campfires, when the firelight danced
You'd find me safe,
wrapped in your glance
Upon this path, which trail to take
Close by my side, clear choice you'd make
And when the future seems forlorn
You'll summon Angels, squash the storm
Missteps, success, I know your here
Your steady hand "jamesy!" your cheer!
On down the road, around the bend
I know you're there!
Dear Dad,
My friend!
09/20/13
© All Rights Reserved
The
pendulum
sways
back
and
forth
man
centred
for
a while
egos
awash
'til
drowning
then
in
decadent's
bile
a
phoenix
will
from
the ash
and pain
there
spring
forth
as
God
resumes
His
rightful
place
again
His
peace
once
more
to
reign
The light’s velocity
Or my mind’s rapidity
Is not sufficient for me,
To travel into the space,
Where, I dump the remains
Of my void past, and to get
My vivid future while I am
On the way back to my life,
From that horizon of my love,
And to the future, in which,
I can spend the rest of my life,
in the joie de Vivre of light.
So I travel in a medium,
That travels much faster
Than the light, not visible
To my adversary, so that it can’t
Stop my journey and hamper me,
To live in the harmony,
And without which, I can’t live,
But must die, premature,
in this nightmarish birth.
By: R K Chowdary Jasthi
@all copyrights reserved
inspiration
makes its
own pace
decides
the form
rhythm
pause
rhyme
design
bubbles
from
its spring
seemingly
inexhaustible
'til
suddenly
it
dries
I stop..
put down
my
pen..
await
the rain
again
Fish and ducks and frogs and such
that in the water play,
swim in and out and all about
throughout their fun filled day.
Rain or sun no difference make
to their gay parade,
It's here and there and everywhere
to play their life was made.
To and fro they seem to go
to deep or shallow stay,
hurray! hurray! they seem to say
each and every day.
Related Poems