As one who hankers to peer
Beyond this moment
Cliff-edged, with northern gannet
Share its thought; there leant.
Who, diving, though not dream-tranced
Is as rapt; unfazed.
Whose sea into, though not of Time
Is as eerie hazed.
Onyx veined moon
peeps behind a frilled
crystal cut cloud adrift
black ink stoic sky
has its pallette
pleading for a
bristled brush
in the hands
of visionary
captivated by
a mystic miracle
that glowing orb
it neatly nestles
whilst weaving
wispy strands
of scattered
lunar beams
oe’r pliant
dark tree top
foliage swaying
to sharp breeze
scenic stimulus
an earnest art
grove gallery by
adjoining stream
in flow and trickle
stint akin to cue
for lambent
loiterer glum
so perplexed
yet inward
inkling as orbit
of the artisan
pen or paint
closet dabbler
whose inertia
frozen frigid
hidebound
hankers for
silken swoon
from that
celestial
of bodies
to spark
a latent fiery
gumption
bubbling
blandly
within each
arch after
hour budding
Rembrandt
honest
handsome
honey
happy
hope hail
hale half
heart hand
hankers
house home
honor
My heart feels heavy tonight
Old photos and memories
A steadfast emotional anchor
Yearning bygone days
Achingly longing for the lost
My soul sorrowfully hankers
SPREADING HAPPINESS
Spreading happiness is root of civilization.
Peerless pearly passion to initiate happiness.
Rapture rolls in making people cheerful.
Enjoy best spreading happiness.
Amazing soothing serene sublime sensation.
Devoting, dedicating to distribute happiness considering as duty.
Intense desire and attempt for others to feel happy.
Noblest approach of humanity.
Great means to be happy bringing happiness for others.
Holy heart hankers to help others.
Angelic approach to see smiling face of others.
Prime quality of human nature .
Pure pristine emotion.
Ingenious urge not mere compassion.
Never indulging selfishness.
Enabling persons to overcome grief.
Selflessness is first step to spread happiness.
Supreme satisfaction in making people happy.
03\26\23
Spreading Happiness
Second place.
Contest by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Birthday Party
The day began to find a place for lunch which was difficult
most roads were closed due to a cycling tournament
We got out of this mess and ended up in the streets where the rich lived.
My wife was enthralled by the beautiful gardens in the district
I nodded but was not impressed, preferring real nature.
Finally, we stopped at a small inn, that was ever so posh,
just in time I was getting grumpy due to low blood sugar.
The meal was expensive but plentiful, and we took the rest home
for a feast when I would not need to drive and enjoy a glass of wine.
At home, I saw on Facebook, many had sent me gratulations which
is gratifying, and I love my absent friends.
Those who didn´t send, greeting especially the English,
I forgive
they do not like to show a display of affection.
The English are this way, is it was a good thing they left
the EU, are a people of great pride and still hankers
for the days when Great Britain was an Imperial power.
No, there was not a great party just my wife and me, that is ok
we are bound together by an emotional seal of loneliness.
when the sky hankers
to meet land, it disguises
as the nimbus cloud
porous pasts pumped
peered pulpy pump
bounty blitzkrieg bursts
leering lanky lurch
lusty lips lobbed
cremating callous cost
masticated memories moaned
trading taunted tone
salient liquid sown
eerie ocean etched
kaleidoscopic churn's cleft
tuning torpedo's trend
haughty horizon hankers
mocking Machli's bicker.
'20:05:02:18:23
Note: Of an oozing ocean and a taunted tiger.
dark dribbles drooled
punctured passion puked
felon fate fumed
fiddling fostered fluid
hankers hoisted bled
cremating callous crest
three-eyed thrills tuned
cupping quatrain's clue:
gaunt guts glued
sassy days spent
rusty reels rent
jumpy judgement vent
thrashed quatrain thrown
into bottomless bow.
'20:04:11:17:03
Note: Four gods conspired to dethrone JE, the greatest God. But their plans were shattered when the three-eyed god of air heard about the plot.
feeble flesh feigned
rusty reels' reign
hoity hankers bled
porous pruning led
furious feast fetched
blind blitzkrieg belched
gaunt gifts gored
punctured pills pored
nocturnal nature bored
taunted trees moaned
callous crest cloned
damping drooling drone
eerie ends etched
callous catastrophe clenched.
'20:04:06:20:38
Note: Of wanky war.
lout tout clout
pout mouth shout
draped zeal drooled
pruning punctured pool
hoity hankers hoisted
callous crescendos clothed
eerie passion pulsed
gaunt gifts gulped
tempestuous tongue touched
mystic rhythm moaning
busted, blitzkrieg cloning
muffled maladies glowing
dark dribbles damped
taunted thrills trashed.
'20:03:27:17:09
Note: Dedicated to Adeyemi Joshua.
dark dribbles drool
feigning freaks fooled
nocturnal nimble numbed
felon fits gulped
hideous hankers hoisted
callous crest cremated
porous politics punctured
moaning trends tortured
leering lanky leisure
pulpy pen pruned
sassy syllables sued
squashed bills bruised
la-de-da wits wrecked
haggard hymns decked.
'20:03:24:20:16
Note: Dedicated to Christopher Marlowe.
pruned passions bled
clutching callous crest
felon fills fetched
dark dances decked
hoity hankers squashed
taunted thrills trashed
wet wits wanky
sassy sips sugary
nauseating nocturnal nitty
spanked syllables wept
drenching drooling depth
ballsy hollow belched
lusty length lent
porous punctures spent.
'20:03:23:12:34
Note: Dedicated to Aeschylus.
Woke or woken?
I am a middle-class player
So some politicians say
Not in so many words
But in their interesting way
You’ve heard it, haven’t you?
The ravings of some pure, enlightened and woke capital-city greeny
So our deputy ruler said
At least I am not brain dead I thought
Caught between reality and their world
Woke I guess to their untruths
Where disbelief governs
And smothers all others
Including me, and you
Their coven accepts no members without money
Millions give way to billions
We wage earners know our place
And live our lives resigned to a space
That contradicts our daily life
I must be off my face
Such words are madness are they not, woke greenie?
Just a middle-class thinker
Who hankers for a world
Of democracy where we workers run the joint
And share the wealth we create
With love, not hate
It is too late perhaps
But what would I know?
A pure, enlightened and woke capital-city greeny
I wear your insults as a badge of pride
There is nowhere to hide, politicians and the billionaires
We care, they do not
Get rid of the lot
Help Your Self,
Doesn't Mean to Mine
Written: by Tom Wright
2/7/2019
Some think we run a taxi service,
Others think that we're a bank.
A few, I'm sure are quick to say,
Tom's an eighty year old crank.
Some are always needing things,
To satisfy a want or yearn.
They always use the term borrow,
But most times forget to return.
One has told me “because you're old,
Perhaps you don't recall.”
I was quick to tell this person,
I thought he a lot of gall.
It isn't that I've become uncaring,
Or have a heart that now is stone.
But Tom no longer has time for this,
And just hankers to be left alone.
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