Monkey don't love you real; goodbye...
To stay alive is a taboo,
Except you are put on standby-
Banana next to bid adieu.
Bankers don't lend you funds for free,
To uncover your house address-
Except you are up to foresee...
Trustee of good record's finesse.
Farmers don't store for long in barn;
To make ends meet for just upkeep,
Except it is of season's yarn:
Consumption awaits other reap!
Darkness does not give chance to light,
To illuminate atmosphere...
Except it enforce dark, it's fright-
Such sets in, a new stratosphere.
Categories:
gists, art, dark, emotions, fear,
Form: Rhyme
my muse -
departed …
sometimes reality squeezes you dry,
and breathes you away with the dust …
words, beings, cadences,
the gists of the gloaming -
gone …
so …
just write.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, April 12, 2023
Categories:
gists, animal, muse, writing,
Form: Free verse
to press on strings, these digits, sore
thru pain, let chord and cadence pour
oh how could I so long ignore
that sound that stirred my spirit
and what had helped me hear it?
thru all those years of muse mistrust
and jousting gists that seemed unjust
you sat unvoiced, and gathered dust
yet, now, your tongue is finding
such beauty midst your binding
in dreams, I felt you’ve longed for my
soft press, to make you, sweetly, cry
hushed, empty hours with but a sigh
this heart, so lone and aching …
my passions - bloodless, breaking
still, life’s a circle, round-and-round
too long I walked that barren ground
and now, once more, in you I’ve found
that silence, strained, defeats me
and how your voice completes me
oh beg, forgive this daft old man
I missed your smooth neck ‘neath my hand
and each dear note that you command
let’s coax these dulcet hours …
where ballads bloom like flowers
come, guitar … let ballads bloom.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 6, 2023
Categories:
gists, age, analogy, appreciation, guitar,
Form: Rhyme
All is here with its tease,
The coming of beautiful trees
With light of bright rainbow colors,
Standing tall in the hearts of others.
Oh! those lovely nozy seasonal flies,
Which buzz like a melody of hashless Cries
Bringing joy in the hearts of kids
Making them think about gifts
Is what this great day really gives
The breeze of this event brings jubilant spirited heart
In the stone heart
Of anyone, percifing their anguish heart
Hmm I can't forget about those times that I used to danced As a kid in my home town
As a means to cheer the trouble hearts like a clown
With huge imaginations, kids shared amazing stories
Sitting in cool chairs
About the wonderful Christmas
Skipping, dancing and singing under a cool weather
Is me holding a Christmas ledger
Oh! yes like Crantoranto lecturing Spondee about his African Ring,
Pazanh suit and native slippers
What a very joyful day for kids?
Even we adult still missed celebrating Christmas as a kid
Oh! Christmas, what a blessed day for kids?
Categories:
gists, 10th grade, analogy, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
Biologists smell of True Nature
For choosing to Existence nurture:
Of the unicellular plants proud;
Things one can't see in a voice loud;
No deserved shaming of The Vulgar:
Bats, Climbers, Creepers, Germs and Algae,
Knowledge not quite unlike a hard blow
Biologists giving a soft glow
Our youth's favorite reproduction
They just can't want for an induction
But, ponderously, Biologists
Your subject does bear the longest gists
The strangest tongue twisters to memorize:
Names we soon forget, as we revise
All the funny words about hormones:
The progesterones, testosterones
I could Biologists hit with stones:
One cause to start nursing some cracked bones
Categories:
gists, freedom, imagination, people, words,
Form: Rhyme
His thoughts a noose round the neck
That betrays progress into better ray,
Prisoner self-chained to surreal wreck
Of diamond burdens beyond their say.
His pulses another swift drift away
From lanes of wit and clear sense;
Obstinate caudal slip in weird sway
Toward gaols well inevitable hence.
His bias-bankrupted soul's whims
Far defy practicality and her gists;
Tagging kettle black as old pot dims
In his eyes its erst death-dark twists.
His lobe preened to nab things null,
Throbs to tap vocular waves vacant
As shards of a myths-neutered skull;
More void and louder than airs want.
And his appetites stirred wild like tides
Over tempestuous seas wayward spill;
Milk's cream along filthy paths guides,
Honey's decoys his glances snare still.
Categories:
gists, 3rd grade, allegory, allusion,
Form: Didactic
I'll write of things lamentable like poor shipwrecked loves,
Tempest-tossed by bestial winds behind unfeeling storms;
Ripped apart by the furious middles of swift-gusting winds,
Voyaging to dream-born shores away from boring homes.
I'll tell of the Fate-shattered dreams of earth's surest bet.
Painting how those naive shoots untimely waterloos met,
Leaving tender footprints new on antiquity's fierce sands;
Blossoming stars offed by hard luck's experienced hands.
My verse will endeavor to weave history's accurate tales.
Parodying villainy within quiet complacency's stronghold,
Shaming eccentricities in black nooks by raw truth untold;
Inking sagest anecdotes that any finessed raconteur hails.
Of first-hand swills or soured affectations I will not write.
For the self-loving bard’s quill falters from black to white,
As he relives a narcissist's replica of alleged first-felt lots,
And his best tropes mimic mere ego-embellished reports.
I leave it to unaffected pens immune to self-patting twists,
To write of this modest scribe's little turns and weird gists.
Categories:
gists, art,
Form: Rhyme
Well now, beneath the darkest realms
In nightmarish gists, I am the one
Who instills fear and in putrescence I dwell
In variety, isocheimal ulteriority is all I've done
Laureled with the metallic lustres of death
And shining with the fires of vengeance
Animosity is the origin of my libellous wreaths
Where you see hearts of the women I've broken dearest
Sultrily I coax the likes of you in my irresistible hazards
Scarcely liminal of you towards my tinge of ominous transience
In my vegete facade, my words flow like the romanticizing Haggard
And contemptuously strike you down in my own baleful omnipotence
What a naive fille you are, my dejected little princess!
To be easily deluded by a beguiler with a stunning visage
In your ruptures, I ecstatically drown myself in your distress
Beneath woos and charming signals of temperament are the vicious lures of a savage.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is a response to: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_princess_cry_604227
Categories:
gists, angst, betrayal, corruption, dark,
Form: I do not know?
Traducent are we who speak with slivery truth
With silver fork tongues we malign the disclosure
Slanderous are we who act suasive and choose
The obduse of wealth, power, and fortune
In the overture of madness we play in absolute confusion
Vexing, beckoning with their temptations
Plausive are we to the eyes of the wicked
With frangible gists and terrible mindedlessness
Not a poor soul saved, not another guilt grasp
Ignominiously felt, and despodence lasts
All overawed with the overwhelming avarice
And lo the kings of the foul and the underlings
Categories:
gists, angst, corruption, dark, hate,
Form: I do not know?