he is one of the most hated men even his own children hate him!
The Golden Hour
They waited for golden hour with glee,
And some people with gloom.
Juveniles were excited for the first,
minds already drifting elsewhere.
The streets filled with gentle migration-
someone rushing towards their loved ones
And some grudging to solitude.
Yet the night didn't ask who carried joy
And who carried quiet heart.
Cafe blooms with chatters,
while dim room cradle the sound of silence.
The night opens its arm to everyone-
the tired, the eager, the heart broken, the hopeful,
yet each walks into it alone
searching for what the week didn't give.
Time is quintessential of those changes,
Yet none gave thought to it.
They were busy in the life hustle,
well immersed in the endless bustle.
Time moved with silent patience
Unnoticed, yet immense.
This word has so many prejoratives in the
English Gypsy vocabulary..Here are some
Mark..Them well.' Cagey and darkly so, sly, underhand, nasty, untrustworthy, mockimg, grudging and it
Fits a certain politican exactly.' he seems
Typecast here.'
Gabby wailful goes wane
Gassy wagtail
Gruff white-livered
Grudging walleyed
Grubby wanton
Grouchy warlike
Great weasel
Gross-out wicked
Grizzle whiney
Going in will-o'-the-wisp
Going with his big baby
In the first place the earth
itself sometimes crumble
and sometimes something tends to fall like francing
like eroding like confronting like grudging to
belligerence?.
Or what sometimes something carnivorous or sometimes
we humans may tend to switch about discovery about
love about whims for not even for a whins' cake?.
Are we not now making some fleas will sooner turn to
cracks and use ps and downs and not so long before
damnations?.
Or what is such sort a glaaaaaaaass?.
The porch-potted have attenuated
into stick insects.
Geraniums are hallowed be dark moons,
Fragility turns to desiccation.
The red tin watering can
is iced over by a fallen sun.
Of a sudden, a yawning dawn
freezes, is pinned
to a fixed grimace.
Unlock the front door,
push a grudging frosted screen.
Slipper bound toes shrink back,
blood drops through ice holes
in arterial walls.
Tropical fruits uneaten,
beds unmade and cooling,
cat hiding under a throw rug,
just its tail flicking a weather warning.
Slap and lock the door,
ignore the creaking porch
as it were a gutted grave.
Upon a kitchen wall
eyes trace a diminishing light,
a trace that once was a warming ray,
now has congealed into a fingerbone
of yesterday.
Summer keeps coming.
Knock down days
that stroke the heat- hammer
with a wilting flesh.
We must find a way
to un-cuff from the insufferable,
to face off with an icy will power.
To honor, with a grudging awe
those pioneers
that came and went
before the cool hit-songs
of our air conditioning units.
If it were possible
we would drink a cold beer
while taking a cold shower,
or shower in cold beer,
but that is just a dream
our over-cooked minds
clings to.
Chin thrust forward, held in right hand
pleasant sweep of hair graces unexceptional forehead
Thoughts percolate, bubble lightly, retreat
mouth scrunched up into grudging position
Cameron looked on wordlessly:
Many things he’d said carelessly,
The dumb are safe with made gestures
Not easy grudging their postures…
With words he’d just planted hatred
In the mind of Schuller Alfred,
Whom he said had gone to Rwanda
Only to come back with Panda…
First lured by her economy,
His hopes Great Business Colony;
In Rwanda no more anomy:
Who won’t try Brave Agronomy?
One should guess the whole picture:
The glib-tongued need a mute’s lecture,
Also, Eunuch’s Vasectomy
Or, best, God’s Deuteronomy.
abiding in awareness self-aware
looking at what appears without judging
sans memory recall or thought form snare
there being within no ego grudging
the now continuum renews itself
boundaries between subject-object blur
soul having no agenda on the shelf
delights upon feeling nodes within stir
we dwell in form and our body’s aflame
here and now, we’re entwined with existence
love and light that maybe assigned no name
signals that from God there is no distance
07-January 2023
He's a Presbyterian Elder
By occupation Car Welder:
If you don't mind: Welder Elder,
By choice in the job, not fell there...
Fellow Elders for the good air,
Easy to find them in nice wear,
Grudging not a perfumed hair,
With two good cars and still a spare...
So, special: this Welder Elder,
Doting Husband of Emelda,
User of the job's Equipment.
Likely seeker of a shipment;
To the tasks truest commitment
Like Lord God's Eleventh Commandment...
A Charles resting much on shoulder
Fellow Elders sure a boulder.
He had a "hate/like" relationship
with the world. His usual reactions
were always critical, mostly negative,
and his scarce grudging approvals
were, at best, luke-warm. He judged
everything and everyone immediately,
contrasting them with his own imagined
greater beauty, strength, experience, knowledge,
skills, possessions, courage, heritage, and taste.
Anger was his armor and his weapon,
and he wielded it mercilessly and without pause.
A collective great sigh of relief was heard
when he was no longer around.
i see reflections of myself
all the could have beens
pile around me
grudging my steps
better never an option
how to give love you have never felt
so i feign my humanity
with a crooked smile
and eyes that lock
me in my emptiness
I solemnly propose thirty seconds,
As it isn’t at all a search for diamonds
And hasn’t been delivering stronger, bonds:
Only pleasure-soaked “Ohs” and excited diphthongs
Almost always depleting a womanizer’s funds,
Wherefore intercourse should be a little longer than a cock’s
Or the time it normally consumes to put on ones socks...
Perhaps the time it takes a grenadier
To dive for cover after a throw
Or for the grudging handshake between a lack lustre brigadier
And a junior officer of more decorations and glow!
Preferably, the time it takes a cock
To perform its roles of a professional time announcer
Or the uninvited, not hard like a rock,
To be forcibly shown the door by a bouncer.
As I took the right turn, lo, the crescent
Like Urdu letters but pink and silken
From two mountains meandering descent
Raw hues of hours dark and blue keep folding
As I kept my raised eyes hooked to rivers
A shining swing of swords like the sliced moon
In polkas of blood a dark blue shiver
From red jungles comes up a meaty Hun
Then all of a sudden the grudging sky
Came down in rains washing the whole vista
Chin on elbows, children, who danced so high
All flames went back in the gladiola
At the seafront mighty waters were sands
My face I held with ailing wrinkled hands
27 June 2019
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.