at life’s crossroads
conscience goads us
pay odes to God
Categories:
goads, spiritual,
Form: Than-Bauk
‘I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins.’ - Lauren Eden
**************************************************************
Light
with home rule in my veins
paternal care not vain words
motherly hug a retreat
sisterly smiles like rays of sunshine
the mind free to wander like the breeze
early to rise a routine
offering devotions a sheer joy
the glow of inner light
now illumines my journey of life
goads me to the rightful path
ever keeps me company
as a benign guardian
as I steadily trail my footsteps
during the midday sunshine
in the solemn silence of sunset
alongside solitary moonlit footpaths
and in the darkness of night
when I retreat home
to lay my head back on my pillow
Categories:
goads, inspirational, life, light,
Form: Suzette Prime
She chose to think his sweet talk lies were cute…
that things he said had value worth pursuit.
that substance would emerge, somewhat astute.
And while his words of love she wants to feel…
she ambles through their world hoping to heal.
She fears his selfish frost is hard as steel.
These past three years recalled with misty eyes…
he goads her daily even as she cries;
he begs excuse but sneers with compromise.
His conversation scars with bogus blame.
it mocks them both for trust has turned to shame;
it gags her voice, so silence is her game.
She made a promise, hoping that somehow
her mate would change. She’ll never break her vow.
Categories:
goads, 11th grade, bullying, heartbreak,
Form: Hybronnet
lightsabers slash skies
cold front goads humidity —
the black night bleeds rain
Categories:
goads, nature, night, rain, storm,
Form: Tristich
The storm stirred…having ingredients our neighbors provided.
Stolen goods, the storm stashed in its wings, and headed East.
The storm boiled in Mississippi - all baby boomers spelled
that state voraciously m-i-ss-i-ss-i-pp-i…the eye of the storm, calm,
while the raptor tore apart lives. The weeping of dark clouds
over smithereens. The storm with a long wooden handle, stirring
hail and adding more broth. No one cared for this stone soup.
neighborly stone soup
NO THANK YOU emphatically
Bless your heart tongue goads
3/26/2023
From wikipedia: Stone Soup is a European folk story in which hungry strangers convince the people of a town to each share a small amount of their food in order to make a meal that everyone enjoys, and exists as a moral regarding the value of sharing.
Prayers for those affected by this terrible storm!
Categories:
goads, storm,
Form: Haibun
Lone, untravelled. Dusty, moaned through.
Before all such, I think
In a dry, but land's forgot roads
Oblivion's wish goads
What leaves, for its departure
Day's, unacknowledged in
Of those shadows, the saddest
Which lead to one's last rest.
Categories:
goads, travel,
Form: Rhyme
God guides greatly
Governs gaze gently
Gears Gospel-gain gloriously…
God’s goodness
Generates giving graciousness
Gathering golden grain-grandness…
Guarding getting, gluttonous
Garrisoning greed-guilt, grievous
God girds grounded going, gorgeous…
Generously granting
Garnished growth gravitating
God goads grateful gladness-greeting…
God’s glamor glitters
Glows, glistens, glisters
Glorifying godliness-glinters.
*Psalm 86:10For thou art great, and doest wondrous things: thou art God alone.
Rhyme with alliteration
July 11, 2022
Categories:
goads, appreciation, blessing, christian, faith,
Form: Alliteration
Beyond the wave-sacked,
lie the pockmarked dunes, heaps dug
by the claws of scaly thrashers.
Here they huddle, my blood kin
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers.
By a shoaling shale and monochrome spray
one brine-splattered small fry.
A boyhood caught in a swirling freshet,
he whales barefoot in the flounder,
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
a slippage of tugging surf.
Her demeanor soggy at last, mother
goads to be led to the creaking camper.
Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea.
A toppled thermos and leftovers
scooped up and lugged away.
Windswept, the lingerers
trudge from the chilly churn,
while a soused and hectoring bay
records a working-class holiday.
Categories:
goads, poetry,
Form: Free verse
While fighters ought to be gracious and calm, feeling fury is a sign of weakness. ( By author )
When everything droops in your wake
Your stance was hollow; it was fake
Your path is fair yet worth the wait
That's where you should wander your fate
I'd cop through a scene of wanton
Key strewn bits are struck by motion
Turn over sadly; roots are hay
I'm vowing my last breath away.
My heart calls for few gouge scorner
Truth spoiled on the side of corner
I am quite keen to accomplish
Fight failed, but never the skirmish
Dread sweeps the sight, and the mind stray
Smile on the lips once sorrows spray
Nose-binds to trust, waive stink disdain
Heart falls with each sight; calm remains.
Uproar warmly greeted my stride
When the grind of routine subside.
The pulse dashed at the sight I view
And heart was thumping in my chew
I breathed to calm my helpless feet
"Stay calm and grow on," to my greet
From inside, mind is home to loads
It's wicked snide skimpy and goads.
Written: January 12, 2022
C Form - Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
goads, analogy, anxiety, appreciation, beauty,
Form: Couplet
Covid is a lie she tells me, hoping for an argument.
My silence probably grates her.
All news is false except for my news station, she goads me.
I do not roll my finger around my ear or make the L sign on my forehead.
I congratulate myself on my restraint.
Finally feeling like a grown up.
Categories:
goads, perspective,
Form: Free verse
You insist on arguing.
I am silent.
You goad me.
My cheeks are flinching, but you do not notice.
You attack me.
I nod my head.
Not saying anything.
I can play this game all day, longer than you maybe.
You try another tact.
I would walk away if you were not my friend and my cousin.
So I stay and try to change the subject to something pleasant.
You keep your tirade going.
I finally say good bye.
As a last resort you attack one of my children.
It’s on now…..
Categories:
goads, mother,
Form: Free verse
Faint-hearted lass, are you where
Your dreams have placed you?
Not as yet? Not even close
In that otherwise camatose
Wakefulness, Day goads?
Then to this fine sleeper's creed
Are not living true:
"Fear not, nightly wise, as far
What unto The Morning Star. *
New day, new life bodes.
* Venus. Planet of Love
Categories:
goads, anxiety, lonely, love,
Form: Rhyme
She lingers waiting for me to make a mistake.
I feel her, sneering at me, ready to pounce.
Unsure how she originated, but I keep her masked.
Cover her up with a brilliant smile,
Being Robin William funny, so no one knows
Except me….
She goads me with pokes and prods
Trying to get me morose and sad.
I am aware of her power
I dare not give in to her.
She can take me down harder than a Mack Truck
Categories:
goads, depression,
Form: Personification
Highlit noon terrain, sun blatant
Bathes their shadowless landscape
Endless brilliant sheds radiation
Blinking weary bulbs weakly imitate
Heat hits love with all truth stark
Boxed tight hard facts reject cryptic
Oneness discovery, - two embark
Both nurture melded mode intrinsic
Having strikes delicate balance
Gravity secures, too soft to squash
Assurance a transparent palace
Governs linking, symbiotic emboss
Horizon elevates whitest sphere
Grants tomorrow's moon take flight
Immaculate tuning discards fear
Goads a farthest keen midday sight
5th February 2021
Written for Contest 'Love Is'
Sponsor : Un seeking Seeker
Categories:
goads, best friend, desire, devotion,
Form: Rhyme
Best case scenario -
my fame walking on two legs
wearing a golden helmet
(I made a bowl which I hammered
out of a lump of copper in workshop-class
aged 14, not good,
but all is golden now, for he who comes after me
has written an autobiography
that has left-out most of my failed handiworks).
He speaks from the empty shell
of a hermit crab. Distant stars love him.
He continues restoring my poems
long after they have crashed
into brick walls.
Or, he may come as the woman,
the one I have been seeking
in that frosted window of a past life,
She who I can only recall
when drunk on Blue Nun wine,
a Liebfraumilch that knits
all star-crossed lovers together
as they write themselves
quietly out of history.
In that almost land
my beloved unveils herself,
waits for my mind to open
like a blushing coral
sea anemone.
On the other hand,
he who comes after me
that man who watched my life
as if my body were at the bottom of a cliff,
he who also goads me to tinker with words,
converting them into land-mines
that sometimes maim.
If he shows up after my life
then I am going to haunt him
because he deserves to be scared
of a guy like me.
Categories:
goads, poetry,
Form: Free verse
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