The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying.
Rottenness seeks in the soul
righteous prey,
grown from pure moments
in which the whiteness of thought
nurtures the hope of cleanliness
away from the smell own rot,
inherited from primary birth.
I feel the path in the whites of my eyes
through the chain of peoplecrucified
only for the future millennia.
We collect the rusty nails with tears
let's stick them on the sky.
Through the ancestral valleys
the blood of the crusaders flows,
furrowing the carapace of faith
to destruction.
One earth,
one history,
hangs like a ripe fruit
in the grown tree
from the heart of the universe
ready to taste the putrefaction.
On another branch
a flower opens
in the prehistory of another fruit.
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying
Freddy Farkle, fumbling forecaster for Forestville,
friggin' fudged Friday forecast....fair?!
first florid felicitous, falling flurries followed,
froze flowers, foiled!
faraway farmhouse, furrowing farmland,
frigid fanny, furious, frustrated,
frumpy, frazzled!
furry forest friends furnished flannel frock,
finding Freddy's fails funny, frivolity,
fortunately frequent fallible forecasts
found Freddy flying faraway,
fallaciously forecasting for fermented folks!
When I was hungry, from my humble hut,
I waved to God with a heart burdened but,
My plea carried on fragile wings of hope,
Yearning for sustenance, a way to cope.
But the vast universe claimed His attention,
Beyond my reach, lost in its grand ascension.
In a brutal world, as I grew up strong,
I waved again, seeking solace in the throng.
Hand extended, an unspoken plea for grace,
Hoping for divine guidance in life's race.
Yet the vibrant universe stole His gaze,
Leaving me to navigate uncertain ways.
When I was in love and desired a small thing,
From the universe, I waved with hope's wing.
Longing for a blessing to seal our bond,
But the cosmos continued, ever beyond.
Was God furrowing His brow in deep thought,
Amidst rebellions that Satan had wrought?
Or was He crafting galaxies anew,
With celestial touch, creating wonders true?
Now, as I've grown old, I wave once more,
Seeking God's presence as I near the shore.
But it seems He's still occupied, I guess,
In the cosmic dance, His eternal address.
…
Rising from within,
bliss bursts on our skin,
furrowing each node,
played out as an ode.
Vaporised presence
ignites love's incense,
astride God's bliss beat,
vibrant head to feet.
Thus simply present
in this joy current,
tingle renewal
is continual.
Dance of bliss delight
at play, day and night,
churns to birth nectar,
piercing each vector.
Borne of cosmic drum,
magnetic bliss hum
surges to expand,
our cognitive band.
Each cell stands alone,
dancing on it's own
gyrating in rhythm,
within body prism.
We would if we could
make bliss understood ~
rapture intimate
and immediate.
Bliss is a secret,
which none can ferret.
When God's our sole aim,
we become the flame.
30-August-2022
I should like to take Bitter Rattles
As in their own right Brazen battles …
Intensely, The Speaker is flowing,
Whether or not with eyes glowing;
Also riotously, he is thinking
And as riotously blinking,
A nearby child to start yellowing
And into its shell burrowing;
Panicked sows not farrowing,
For as long as he isn’t mellowing
And down issues narrowing,
His forehead oddly furrowing …
Visibly, it is one drying up,
The Badly Thirsty with a glass cup.
smile
radiant, beautiful
beaming, wearing, gleaming
chirpiness, cheese, scowl, grimace
disapproving, furrowing, accusing
annoyed, worried
frown
Date created: 01/23/2022
and if you escarcely see the the hour sign above us
it is because here in our Institute
we have splendid things to occupy ourselves with
we avoid the sinuous and sneaky sign
of the seconds sailing and furrowing silently
the sacred surface of being
and the marks they produce when dragging
as if each hand of the clocks
were beautiful venomous caterpillars marching
our strategy goes beyond gyms or creams and includes
in addition to an intimate monologue directed to the cells
the constant sending of commands
that allow the body to heal itself
there is also this eccentric new therapy
that many still try to understand
you exercise your mind so much
that in the end manages to illuminate and transcend
we will remain open forever
you can always come visit us
because here the time is not an enemy at all
it's just an obstacle to get around
SERENITY
Hitting hot hammer scorching Sun shines up high.
Weary thirsty Jacobin cuckoo to cry.
Clouds melting in rains with thunderstorms to fly.
Rainy season trying to moisten soil dry.
Fury of passion like glowing ember got shrunken.
Chasing Summer Rains appear in sequence
soothing dry spell on aqua opulence
softening tremendous heat in cool essence.
pacifying hot wrath of Summer, though intense.
Rains bring bliss, command of Summer was shaken.
Whimsy wind furrowing white torn pieces of cotton clouds.
In seamless sky luminous Moon is allowed
Glory of rufous auburn Autumn stepping loud.
Carrying pearly pristine peace Autumn feels proud.
Calm tranquil serenity to awaken.
08/26/20
'Serenity Awakened' Contest by Regina McIntosh
"I'm very happy being me, although sometimes I'd love to be a bird so
that I could fly." - Joy Fielding
Furrowing the crisp layers of thin air
flies the migratory songbird of charm,
the cheerful Robin on the frilled wings
soars to the fringe of clouds in the sky.
The bird of transparent crystal morning
tweeters the tune of sunburst horizon,
in the secrecy of its silky scarlet breast
pulsates the cadence of avian delight.
Over thrush wrapped in the silence of dawn
it sings to the melody of the nascent sunrays,
the welcome carol for the ascent of a new day,
in north wind the enchanting notes drift away.
While on smoky sky the storm clouds gather
little Robin sings on bough of wind-swept tree,
when the rainbow arc spans the drenched sky
it flutters with the rhythm of the celestial hues.
Outside my window on the green visage
the red bird perched on the lofty branch
sings the sunrise song that sails me by,
in the new unfurling sky it’s time to fly.
October 9, 2019
Contest : Writing Challenge, October 2019 - Bird
Sponsor : Dear Heart - Wiishkobe Ode
The swell is rising,
furrowing the brow of seascape,
forewarning of storm arising.
Sheer bliss for surfers,
toil and trouble incising
ferment and foreboding
on sailor's foreheads, glistening,
with the spray and froth flung
from wave-top manes breaking,
off from white horses on the bay prancing.
24 September 2019
He’s gained an audience over the past few years.
Colluding with his missteps and his demons.
Shining a bright light, center mass.
Waiting for applause.
So proud of the spectacle he’s tied
together with sinew and charred hearts.
He chuckles as his puppets squirm.
Promises immortality for such a small
price. What is a soul anyway?
But blood is pouring in from stage left.
Skeletons drumfire, and pile over
the catwalk.
He’s still smiling.
Perspiration falls from a brow intent on
not furrowing.
He’s shown his teeth to a crowd that
now knows why he’s put so much
effort into making tragedy into comedy.
The spotlight crackles.
And he can see the crowd.
Faces scoured by truth.
Nobody is laughing.
The seats are empty.
But the stage is brimming.
The edged remains of his
crooked dreams huddle closer.
The cold crimson fills his lungs.
The gurgling - drowning laughter.
He prays for curtains.
-James Kelley 2019
Day#4
Inquisitive Teacher
"What do you mean he comes into your room at night , and touches you ?''
Weather Announcement
Hale the size of gum ball's start to drop as if a meteor of shower's were to greet our entity. The humidity felt overwhelming, exhaustion rushed all
Editorial Omniscient Editorial
Teacher turn's around to see her class group together with big innocent eye's.
She take's a step closer pulling her knotted hair back into place.
Youngster
''When Mama fall's asleep he come's into my room to play a game , he call's it a nice touching game."
Inquisitive Teacher
"What kind of game ?" furrowing her brow's anxiously she inclined. Just then the town alarm start's sounding. Alarming everyone to duck for cover.
Youngster
"Mama's sick and we can't hurt her , I wanna , I need to go home to Mama!" He start's wailing with his hand's in the all crazy , rocking back and forth.
AS A WRITER , I DO APOLOGIZE ON MY BEHALF FOR MY FIRST WEEKLY THRILLER , AS MORE THEN SINCERELY IT'S UN PROFESSIONAL TO NOT CHALLENGE MYSELF AND POST DAILY AS I'M SUPPOSE TO ... I WILL BE MORE DEDICATED TO MY READER'S ..... APRIL LADAWN BELIN International Writer/ Poet
Hot metals scorching,
Blood vaporizing.
Chest heaving,
Fists clenching.
Words screaming.
Thoughts roaring.
Muscles quivering,
Brows furrowing.
Lips muttering,
Anger ruling,
Eyes stinging,
Tears flooding.
The prompt :
A picture showing two old men laughing together sitting on a park bench.
smiles furrowing wrinkles on face
noisy young days, slowed in pace
all leisure time, no bustle of race
surreal past, memory can't erase.
toothless bites, no one looks after
two old friends, we share a laughter.
main course dinner, it's all over
'dessert' let's enjoy, sweet forever.
22nd April, 2019
Eve Roper sponsored
Free verse or rhyme in its beauty contest
Picture No 2
nonsense purity
polymer
a squeezing of something
out
a tri fold with scores
of plastic, so necessarily unfulfilled
with pictorials
a social security card,
a card from the merchant marines
with a face
eleven dollars, a fiver
and six ones,
and a diners card
weak elbows,
furrowing brow
the smell of a polish
delicatessen on
his breath
Oh come
all ye faithfuls
Mexico, Poland
Bolivia
He wears a
Movado
Then craves
for bagels
with locks after
playing Polo
Peace!
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