could not sleep at night
thrilled to wake and play around
in and out of rooms
as though gems hidden and found
nights merriment resurrected
smiles laughs howls screams shouts and yells
star gaze in summer
recounting and accounting
quilt nights of winter
licking fresh dew drops of spring
butterfly watching catching
picnics to stations
filled with hills and mountain range
playing on meadows
plucking all barred flowers strange
when caught hid behind mother
gathering sea shells
banking them as though gold coins
counting them daily
adding them into bead-joins
wearing like a clown
playing police-thief
arresting little culprits
acting like jailing
taking them to hill summits
to shoot them there from
cries to go to school
coming back happy and thrilled
hating to read books
running out to play joy-filled
coming back ready to sleep
countless memories
how much I could go on with?
I should now cut short
I express only herewith
longing to re-live them all
18 August 2022
Childhood Nostalgia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
What a way to grow Aparajita..!
By Lord Narayan’s Archana
The holy flora in ivy form
Will bestow all sacred norm
Blue prevailing here and there
Conferring peace everywhere
Lord Shiva’s favorite flower
And Operator Lord’s flavor
An invincible blossom with
Color of space I say herewith
You being my Lord Goddess
Keep me blessed in a way ace
So that I traverse all terrains
In seasons sunny or rains..!!
To Subhashinidevi
Due to thy grand opening
Now poets are mushrooming
Till now ten poets have got
The reward after much sought
Such is thy unique entry
In NASA Contest of Poetry
But yesterday I missed thy cheering
Of the pretty poets budding
At least you congratulate
Only to encourage and motivate
For thou are the first Lady
Full of poetic melody
I want you to be hyperactive
In the group now no more passive..!!
To the Lord of Gutta
What a wonderful kid you are blessed with..!
In the Xmas month herewith
Like the other two this will too
Bring thee all joys fully true
Resembling the dad and mom purely
The neonatal has come graciously
Prosperity will be thy address
With peace and delights ace
Never will you look back
Only to scale new heights in pack
I congratulate thee my chum
On being gifted by Lord Supreme
May thy kid be an angel such
Unto mankind being munificent much..!!
Belligerent belle in drapes blue
Beautifully adorned in class hue
Sweet manners to please my dad
For he is a sharp sumptuous lad
Together you both redefine love
Of course I verse now with wow
May you soon be blessed with
A kid of my choice herewith
Astutely cute and sober such
Like my mom and pa much
Years of prayers and boon
Will fetch you a sonny soon
Then you get a lass awesome
To make thy lives wowsome…!!
Alligator alley always answers
Bringing bulbous batches of bubbles
Creatively and curiously cavorting
Deliberately denying and distorting
Elusive energy and enthusiasm
From freakish forwarding fanatics who foresee
Glorious globs of grotesque gossip
Hereon, hereto and herewith heralded
In illustrious illumination indicating ideas
Joyfully and joyously justifying
Kibitzing kindnesses of kith and kin
Labelling luxurious languages, lumping them as lovely.
Manifesting monstrous maniacal mystical miracles
Needing Nirvana and Never-never-land nuisances
Opposed to outrageous ornateness and ordinariness.
Persecuting prideful pompousness and prissiness.
Respectfully receiving responsible rectifiable residents
Such serious succulent sensuous senatorial secrets!
Truth touching tremendous thunderous tentacles
Understating understandably undeniable underlying unity
Verifying villainous vexing vindicators
Willfully wishing willy-nilly wispy ways will work wonders
‘Xpecting ‘xceptionally ‘xperimental ‘xperts
Yoking the young and youthful,
Zippy zealots showing zany zesty zealous ways.
Is a wishing well effective or just a myth
If I wish for great wealth will I attain it forthwith
Here's a wee secret
It's the most discreetest
Just don't blow your booty on this, herewith
Thoughts For Today
1-3-2020
By: Miracle Man
I gaze out the window at morn’s candlelight,
Observing nothing that might bring me dismay.
Soon the sun will be rising and birds taking flight,
As I search for words that my thoughts convey.
Life has been richer since I sought God’s favor,
He’s removed obstacles from the path I’ve traveled.
More than once He has been my earthly life saver,
While keeping my life from becoming unravell’d.
Once I ditched my thinking seeking sagacity from God,
HE began supplying all my needs leaving some unspent.
He brought me into HIS light from behind my facade,
Since then to his storehouse I’ve brought ten percent.*
*Malachi 3:10
Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the LORD of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that [there shall] not [be room] enough [to receive it].
*Malachi 3:8
Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings.
Awful avocados always
Breathe bitter blue breaths
Craving cardinal’s Christmas carols
Ditching deliberate dungarees during
Elusive extraterrestrial escapades.
Forsaking fitful Floridian flamingos,
Getting gaudy, gratuitous gnarly gifts,
Herewith having hilarious hefty hallucinations,
Imagining India’s illustrious indigo ideologies.
Jackals jerry-rigging jealous junking jackalopes
Kangaroos kissing kindly,
Lamenting lovebirds likely leering
Meandering muddobbers making merry,
Nevertheless necessary negotiations
Ostentatiously overhauling orange ostriches
Private parties practically prancing,
Quiet questions quickly questioning
Ripe red russets revolving rapidly
Sensing secretive shadows shyly
Traveling through trickier times,
Underlings ultimately understanding
Variegated virgins vitality
Waxing willfulness whilst
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xciting
Yarned yellow youthfulness yipping young
Zesty zipper zings zealously, zapping zebras.
Flat pack Wobbler
Procured from mega shop, a straight-lined box amid a cardboard wall
Where jig saw chattels rise above the queues of flatbed wheelies
And underarm catalogues patterned with an iconic list of what they are
When the blocks are sequenced and affixed with laborious strife
A transformation takes place that gives the pack new form herewith
Long live the flat pack table and its tedious sway in frail chipboard
Seated upon upon a quartet of nailed on props that creak objection
It takes its varnished place in harmony with four bolted chairs that match
And for a while it serves to hold the plates and cutlery just grand
Until the careless etch of scratches weave marring patterns on its top
Forever to remain as though a work of scribbled art and wrinkled mess
No longer wavelets in the soup, a tidal wave is now the norm when the legs teeter
Today the food’s aslant and the drinks decide to slide and slither to the floor
The props have given way, they’re tired and now submit to glory
And the table returns again to flat pack with eternal gratitude
quartet of props
Oscar D. Couch
1885-1914
So your poet, Mr Hunter, here,
Has given me some writing space,
Strictly twenty five lines of epitaph,
For inclusion into this ponderous tome of his.
And despite being a dead man,
Going on over a hundred year now,
I have accepted his curious challenge herewith,
And offer up my final ode to human existence,
One in which the costumes of my very survival,
Were often altered and quickly changed,
Well before the tainted soup was ever served!
My obscure advice? Be careful of bashful friends.
Shhh! Keep your voice low around the quiet ones.
Shhh! Never confide to the shy ones your secret plans.
Roscoe was my good friend, I must confess.
He was as shy a boy I had ever known.
Good at football, and shooting arrows with a bow.
And he was an expert with trees and shrubbery.
But if you want me to comment about his sex life,
Mister Hunter! Mister Poet Man!
Well, you can just forget it!
Roscoe was misunderstood! That I know!
And his sudden death was most tragic to me.
But leave me out of it, Mister Stark Hunter!
Mister Poet Man with the license!
"Candle in the Clouds
The day I lit that candle,
It was meant to burn eternal,
For the wick which I have used,
Makes its flame just last forever,
Herewith light that passion smile,
Which you gave to me to treasure,
yet it glows your tears today,
To illuminate your eyes tomorrow,
For I know that you will cry,
When alone with memories shy,
It's that bond that melts together,
Two components like no other,
Like that stone dropped in a pond,
Has its ripples that belong,
For that castle in the sky,
Grew its roots in you and I.
The box was small, quarter inch tall,
why it was just so tiny!;
to see her face, on poet’s place,
don’t want to seem too whiny;
there was a smile, in photo file,
but view was not define-y,
I’d like "enlarge," in rant I charge,
to see her looks more finely!
[Herewith my humorous response to someone talking about their stalker issues on PS, which apparently is more common than I thought. It was originally a bit more ribald, but decided to avoid getting flamed. Someone should post a "Against My Stalker" contest.]
For my soul, for my sweetheart,
Uniting the stars, You flickered my soul!
Removing the Insight darkness,You rose my heart!
The flame igniting the passion of love towards each other was certainly inevitable!
The shore on the sea of my destiny is silent without your vibrations!
The fruitful journey accompanying each other is been getting more & more meaningful as the years are passed!
The fate of life.. "binded me with you Suyog" for carrying this beautiful relation!
Thanks god for acting as a mediator, Connecting me with the wonderful soul I am accompanying herewith!
Life sometimes posing with the ambiguous puzzles in my perplexed situation are easily solved being with you!
The benevolent concern by You always chimes my heart!
Spinning the protective cocoons, You vibrantly weaved every paces in my life in a desired manner!
You always heal my heart keeping me in Your secured nutshell!
Fusillade of kisses blow all the way through my heart for my Sweetheart!
Love the way you are,Happy Valentines day my darling Hubby!!
I hesitate to make it known but it’s true.
The Jack /Beanstalk story isn’t quite right.
Telling the correct version is long overdue.
Hence, herewith I will shed needed light.
Before Jack fled from the giant so scary
He spied a basket of multi-colored beans.
He stuffed his pockets with all he could carry.
Then went down the stalk with bulging jeans.
Safely on earth, he eyed the beans with care.
They were warm to his hand and had a sheen.
His father proclaimed them to be very rare.
And a professor said they had an alien gene.
In the following days Jack gave them a name.
He called them “Magic Beans” on finding out
If rubbed on grass they would burst into flame.
“Dangerous,” dad said, feeding them to trout.
Jack cried hard, his magic beans fish fodder.
When he told his friends of the giant and beans
They said they hadn’t heard a tale any odder.
And that’s the real story out of my dreams.
Jan. 15, 2015, Paul
Hereupon
I hear a song
Hereunto I embrace the near of dawn
Hereunder I ponder long
Herewith birds to sing the strong
Heroic verse
I'm a hero
I don't need to rehearse
Hero worship gone wrong
Being a hero can make things worse
Been a hero so long
It's a heroic curse
A hero now withdrawn
Becoming perverse
Heroic heroin and no nurse
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