terrific fescue
ready to bail
Kentucky blue grass
farmer brown friendly
mosquito hideouts
unknown rashes
wild flowers
dandelions
queen annes white lace
butterflies
allergies
hay fever
verdant
meadow
grass
“Wilderness has at once a mysterious beauty and horror entwined within. Human mind also harbours wild urges and benign emotions. When wild urges take precedence, life becomes an untamed jungle” ~ By Poet
The jungle sprawls hauntingly scary
Where light and shadows together dance.
Here the wind howls fiercely
Thickets and thistles grow wild
Creepers twine around trees.
Branches of trees droop in disarray,
Blocking the paths and obstructing entry.
Under jagged rocks and holes,
Snakes crawl and rodents flee.
The ominous hoot of owls rent the air.
The rocky boulders in dim light look so monstrous.
Leopards and tigers roam free looking for prey
Their carnivores urge, hidden under their soft paws.
From hideouts, raptors and beasts come to the open.
Screeching bats keep flying overhead
Here in this dark grove, light seldom falls
There is a morbid silence, interrupted
By howls of predators and screams of the preyed.
Is not our world too, a wild untamed jungle
Where wolves roam ready to pounce, ready to strike!
When the sun goes down
She comes to town
Gazing all around
Yet no one has found
fireflies lit the darkest night
cry of cricketers in their hideouts,
break the silence at night.
Her hope chased every
Nook and corner
Her gaze sets on a shadow
Emerged between an ill-lit alley
They whispered to each other
Both souls met together
Laughter and groans
Echoed the darkest aisles
He bid farewell
Just with a coin
And a half a loaf of bread he had
She got mad and felt so sad for both
Toss the bread on her feeble mom’s plate
tears pouring down
Empty belly roaring
She retires to bed with a sob.
That’s’ what they do in Theo’s lodge:
All sorts of wrong papers forge;
There every nosing cop dodge,
Who’d rogues from hideouts disgorge…
In Theo’s lodge would hoodlums surge,
Sweet crime at all times their urge;
There, new forms of it emerge;
When ‘This Sin and 'That' they merge…
So, from Theo’s lodge start Crime Purge:
From the Brown Brick ‘Hoodlums’ scourge
A crushing band’s rudest nudge
And just watch all of them budge,
Who Nation’s currency mar,
Factory face change of a car…
With all sorts of wrongs go far!
Crabs tip toe along the bottom
daintily picking at morsels
with their crushing claws.
This is an arena for carnivores,
creatures made for tearing flesh,
or picking carcasses clean
with a kiss.
Hinged mouths
engineered for swallowing whole
lay in wait in mud or stalk
weedy hideouts for prey.
Others prowl oceans
fitted with rows of serrated teeth
or have bellies as big as trucks
to house their kill.
Some have arms studded
with vacuum cups
that caress and hide
a deadly beak pouched
just below a brain.
No screams
can be heard here or, if let loose,
find a register in the human ear.
Pain is tapped out in tiny tremors
too subtle for our senses
to feel, death
signaled by a surface splash
or kept out of sight.
The suffering is seismic.
Blake's terrestrial tiger pales
to a pussy-cat compared
to the arrayed instruments
of slaughter that have
a home here. God must love
these killers to witness
the pain of their bite
or else floats anesthetized
in an infinite,
dreamless state.
Poetry grows in silence,
and darkling the imagination
in the clouds begins the sky
besides, we don't conceive how it is right...
On limbo we stand still,
we await any solution,
this life is only one life,
where do we wait?
the mission...
If we are passive we live in fear,
if we fight we are only competition,
in place hideouts are the secrets,
and in the sacred books is the reason...
Our happiness is in the smile,
so the soul becomes full of colors,
if we understand this it will be simple,
understand the transition of time...... !
Sorry, no graceful way to say his....
Your friends and family under green grass lie.
Body filled with odious pride, the hand of death shall pass you by?
As self inflicted hideouts lie.
No adoring prince, family nor money can save you.
Not even your adoring pet can stop death in its tracks,
That Reaper wants your back,
He deals you the final smack.
The younger ones with vigor, without a a pain run to the beach!
And stare at you in piteous, disgusting wonder.
Not knowing death takes even the younger.
Tearing family souls asunder.
This is not the kind of poem, to be popular here!
I care not for endless laughers and frivolity.
Raise the souls high, not in lowlife joviality,
Before death gets the best of me.
The angst true patriots experience.
America in a state of idiotice somnanabulance!
Doing the Wuhan death dance.
While governent overlords give you a death vaccine and you prance?
6/20/2021
I hear a child bemoan in dreams, reclaiming dreams,
His dreams he dreams alone of flying with songbirds,
Picking and chewing, oozing juicy fruits in teams,
And dancing gaily, prancing to the tune of words,
Diving, and drowning gleefully in pools and streams.
This child I see in somber moods murmur alone,
Awaiting birds, his darling sisters and brothers;
I tip-toe behind to track this child’s lonely zone,
And read his eyes, his thoughts, to see if he withers,
Yet I do not see, nor do I hear ... any groan.
I sniff him behind to the valley, hedge and wood,
And all his rainbow hideouts to see rueful signs
Of psychic woes, or other fancies in boyhood,
But I don't see, I don't hear, any woeful whines,
Yet I see love, a lesson to learn, which I should.
*A 3rd Place* in the following contest (judged on Jan. 12, 2021)
Jan. 10, 2021 (Originally posted on Nov. 29, 2020)
Podium placing promise(6) Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand
Bricks of pain heaved on feeble frame
Hell’s ring tone in fragile ears
Exits incomparable in life’s little memory
A goddess gone, the pillar of a heart’s strength.
Lured above reason by fables,
By mean mortals of and kings of calumny
“They said, and the tattlers said”
to the end of a structure so rare.
This trust is tested,
As hope crumbles
Among dark rumors by strange marauders,
A heart nurtured for stranger’s gains
An Oprah’s regret found in Ruth.
All entreaties as weak words they fall,
And so must I let the bird fly to her nest,
Into hideouts carved by her lust and greed,
Seeking a heaven in hell’s lies.
A foretelling powers of bygone times
Pronounced this exit by lightning's speed.
Goodbye to true parleys of the heart,
An End to the dream by imputed fables.
A shaking of wind, a tossing of sea
A tornado of earth’s fires
A true test of oaths and love
Goodbye to what men call love.
now and forever know.
Eros is a stranger to agape
Soul droops when the weather is wet,
darkened days, drizzle on windows,
Wife watching same soaps,I detest,
no one to talk, no friends, no foes!
Birds take a nap in their hideouts,
cat warming up near fire place,
some eager sports, fishing for trouts,
mystery read, close book,shut case.
Hunger features when day is dull,
seek slice of bread to get undone,
warm herbal tea to light up skull,
to wake up muse and have some fun!
Hazard an attempt with my pen,
old fashioned, paper and pen style,
but ink is dry, thoughts frozen,
wait! my verse will flow in a while!
‘When there is no inspiration’ Poetry Contest
Sponsor Silent one
3rd placement
Written 03/10/2020
L ynn is how my name’s pronounced
I ntegrity and imagination the ideals
N otably nostalgic on occasion
E clectic maybe even a little eccentric
M otivated by a playful muse
O pen-minded at times obstinate
N o fancy pseudo nom de plume
I ntolerant to painful platitudes
Q uality time ideally by a fireplace
U nbridled passion for photography
E mbrace uplifting peaceful views
G rateful a constant state of mind
A rt aficionado to the core
U nconventional and proud of it
T echnologically challenged tenderfoot
H appy hibernating in cozy hideouts
I nfatuated with the infinite and all that’s zen
E nergetic when it comes to writing poetry
R acing to the finish line to leave a legacy
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2026, 3rd place 2021, 3rd place 2020, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2023, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 30, 2020 for contest I AM: A LIST BIO CHALLENGE sponsored by ANDREA DIETRICH - RANKED 2ND
They sit on the thrones..
Yes, they sit higher than God,
But call themselves servants..
Of whom?
Ego or obsession?
Or some kind of mental sickness?...
They proclaimed themselves leaders.
But good followers, they never could be.
'Little knowledge is dangerous...' it's been said.
Sure, they are a danger to the human race.
They are the very roots of sufferings and pains.
Their blind faith upon thyself is masked as fervent worshippers of the great one.
Who's the great, is it not around us, among us?
But none can be greater than the life gifted to each and every one...
Wake up human fellows, question these rulers...these guardians..these dark Angels..
At every point of your life..
It's like hide and seek...if you discover my hideouts, you catch me.
Come on, look for me..know who I am
And what I am...
I know the rule of the game...
Once denounced you will know me, as I come out of my self made hideouts and masquerades..
Till then bad luck I will lead the game...
I hold your nose..check!
Dance with me, say what I say, do what I do.
You cannot lead yourself...you are a follower..
Or you're ME..??????
© Sunita U D Palawon (monologue)
I haven't written anything for a while
I really need a blues-rocker for an ep I have planned.
The music is pretty much already there with it being blues/rock.
Written while nervously hungover. I suppose it comes from a dark place... Enjoy.
Nietzsche helped me out with those last two lines, which are, of course, reoccurring.
Feedback appreciated.
______________________
Every Word Is A Mask
I cannot part the sea, or even turn the tides
I know you will not listen to me with my history of lies
let the valleys hold my tears
should the mountain prick my eyes
I think it should be said, we could have stolen more
modesty was never validated, not now n' ne'er before
avarice, tried and tested
tartuffery has no allure
should Miss Andre get married?
we should have taken more
opinions are hideouts, ev'ry word is a mask
'does not belong to me, I disown it, insist n' I will retract
take back the love that was lent
salvation is under attack
opinions are hideouts and
every word is a mask
_______________________________
Rightly.
Before the birth of fatherless children
Life was good, the land was peaceful
To the field we went happily
Children knew and played with fathers
Peace died because war was awful
To unlivable areas women fled unhappily
Fathers taken as war hostages
Evils of sickness, hunger and thirst we endured
In our hideouts, the worst of evils was war rape
Unknown gunmen made us impregnated
Fatherless children we delivered
Children of mothers they are
Community hates this for man decides
On him, mother and child depend
Wordless the mother is, and so the child becomes
Unhappily and unfreely the child grows
He cannot play with his unknown dad
So shame builds on him, as no father he has
We never decided to bear a child in impurity
Who will never be at harmony
And whose life and education are risky
For he is fatherless and family ignominy
Ultimately, mother and child need basic rights
For they both are victims of their innocence
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
If you laugh at anger and allow some pride,
You may not be quite the same person inside;
If you ignore a little greed, just to yourself,
And inspect sloth in worship as an act of self,
You’ll become lazy more often than you like,
Expecting no consequences, no laborious hike,
Back to work, concern and effortful interest,
Where you do your utmost to do your best.
If you pass over that extra chocolate drop,
And let your greed compensate for your flop,
To account for the sadness in your life and day,
Then you’ll only put on weight to dribble away;
If you shine on gluttonous outbursts as good,
You’ll only validate for your happiness, food,
Which can’t love you or elevate you into meaning,
Because it’s got no warmth, presence or feeling.
And if you have sex with too many friends, people,
You’ll never see them as sensitive and capable,
You’ll never relate to them as you could or should,
And sex will become purely physical, crude,
Which will make you jealous of others’ sex lives,
Envious of their relationships, hideouts and dives,
And anger will devour your mind to place and stake,
Everybody else as wrong, oh for goodness sake!
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