~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I step outside into autumn’s morning dew,
watching the world awaken, letting my senses come to.
The forest trees are laughing once more
dressed in their gold and crimson carnival clothes.
Their leaves, a gentle rustle, softly serenade
as they sway in the breeze's placid shade.
I breathe in the scent of damp soil, rich and dark and deep
that fragrance of earthy homeliness I will forever in my heart keep.
In this arboreal place, I find a certain type of peace,
the tranquility envelops me, my worries I release.
(my new version)
He bears little to be desired
on the outside;
His homeliness is a false facade.
Then a smile lights his face.
He speaks, and the words he drops are pearls.
We see his beauty come shining forth.
My past
My mistakes
The right and wrong choices
My failures and successes
My hopes and dreams
The man looking at me in the mirror
The man you see with your eyes
All my physical homeliness and imperfections
All the words said behind my back
The good and the bad
The rumors and the gossip
The facts and the fiction
The lies and the truth
That’s not me, and that’s not who I want to be…
I’m the sad music that makes me feel there is love to gain through the pain.
I’m the cheek you can hit on one side and then again on the other.
I’m the walking mat you can clean your feet on.
I’m the laughter that comes easy and is given freely.
I’m the friend to the not-so-friendly.
I’m the heart you can wear on your sleeve for you to break over and over again.
I’m the life that matters less so yours can matter more.
© 2025 by DC Poetry
The trees dressed in their carnival clothes
Gold and scarlet of the autumn days
They play about the earthy hues
Of boughs and boles
Proud flag of any sky
I take in the freshly calm air
With that hint of an earthly aroma
The fragrance of homeliness
Health, wealth, success, grandeur, and happiness,
Name, fame, status body-mind homeliness;
Family, friends, love, and self-fulfillment,
Thoughts, words, and actions purity movement...
Within the heart of the ninth clouds floating,
Through mysterious Milky-way boating;
I want to have in each realm my own say,
This has been my trance-mad daydreaming way...
My soul leads me through divine love and joy,
Betwixt fact and fancies I often coy;
Elegant hills, vales, and landscapes I see,
A drop of mighty seas I want to be...
Pains seep in like water into cracked walls,
The deep within depths toward fullness calls;
Self and ego like snake and mongoose clash,
Holiness, yet, like lava waves does splash...
16 December 2022
Our soul’s wish list Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Two-ply in roses of yellow and pink,
rolls and sings to the touch
of fingers on its faintly-scented folds,
giving miles of pleasure to soft seats
on hard covers all in the name of
modern convenience which sure is a change
from old catalog sheets housed in quarter-moon
outhouses on homesteads.
Two-ply greets us in grocery stores,
all the pretty ones sit on the front row,
purring at our squeeze test,
begging to be brought home,
heaven forbid if you buy the plain,
all-white single-ply which sits
on the bottom shelf looking forlorn
because of its unscented homeliness.
Two-ply dies a million deaths each day,
lost in the vortex of flushed toilets,
killing its suppleness and sweet fragrance,
headed to the deep and dark sewers waiting
to be processed in the jaws of the sewage
treatment plants which do not discriminate
against the bland, anorexic and hard-to-the-touch
Morning dews were here and there
Smiling and running down to the
Plants as insects dance to prove
Their acceptance of nature
With fowls attached to the waist of
farm plants in search of worms
The assembly of dews clothes
The farm with white garment
While the sun comes through
The south far behind the Eastern
Coast
A free will and seemingly beautiful
Bird flew into this maize farm
Gently like a Queen before her King
I stood to look yet sat back to watch
This Ogazi with beautiful attire
Her feathers with divers agreeing colours
She made me calm and watchful
Thus I wish I had a stone or that
I can throw a trap to trap her
But her impressive walk with beauty
Stood to touch my quick heart
Of thoughts
After a while a male friend
Probably her husband guided
With masculine beauty came
To her I looked still with passions
In their suitable colours of homeliness
Not until the male drew her attention
As they flew away while the sun
Smiled freshly on the Green leaves of the
Maize farm with much foliage
Leaving me behind talking to my thoughts
Delirium delves deeply
Deeply dense
Derivatively dying
Dancing deliriously
Driving deeply densely
Happily hastily
Honeyed homeliness
Lying loneliness
Levitating loveliness
Delirium doubly
Dealing deftly deathly
Deeply delving deliriously.
Two-ply in roses of yellow and pink
rolls and sings to the touch
of fingers on its faintly-scented folds,
giving miles of pleasure to soft seats
on hard covers all in the name of
modern convenience which is a change
from old catalog sheets housed in
quarter-moon outhouses
behind homesteads.
Two-ply greets us in grocery stores,
all the pretty ones sit on the front row,
purring at our squeeze test,
begging to be brought home,
heaven forbid if you buy the plain,
all-white, skinny two-ply which sits on the
bottom shelf looking forlorn because of
Its unscented homeliness.
Two-ply dies a million deaths each day,
lost in the vortex of flushed toilets,
killing its suppleness and sweet fragrance,
headed to the deep, dark sewers waiting
to be processed in the jaws of the
sewage treatment plants which do not
discriminate against the bland,
anorexic and hard-to-the-touch.
Thank You...
Sharon Moemise
For the sun that burns unhealthily
For the wind that blows continuously
A baby's cry that knows no end
A moment of silence that's heaven sent.
For waking up from under a newspaper
Rain pelting on a cardboard shelter
The stench of city air pollution
Music banging, chains rattling, much confusion
A drunk staggering across the street
An old man so tired, dragging his feet
For a flea infested wall of homeliness
Lives lived day to day, in darkness
Squalid water dripping from a leaky tap
A house pet under a tree for a quick nap
For all kind of pain that cut like a knife
Thank You Lord...for giving us life
Yes,
She
Wore a
College girl's
Skirt and sweater and
A barrette in her shoulder length
Hair. She was the college girl of fifteen years ago.
She hadn't kept up with the times the way others had and she had a low-pitched, well-bred
Voice that many people said was subtly insulting.
And confidence and homeliness
Not often seen—met
Together
In one
Face-
One.
When I see red,
I think of blood and the feeling of
dread.
When I see orange,
I think of fruit and the sound of a
squeaking door hinge.
When I see yellow,
I think of the man in the yellow hat.
When I see green,
I think of the smell of freshly cut
grass and the green blood that stains
socks.
When I see blue,
I feel clam and the feeling of
homeliness.
When I see purple,
I think of royals and wonder 'what is
a burble?'
These white furniture waiting for homeliness
Carrying a burden of a love
Worn
As worn is now their fabric.
The silk curtains were once the passage
To the light
As featly they were waving
Through the breeze.
Now torn pieces are hanging by the windows
Like roses withered
In the land of solitude.
Traces of steps still on the floor
Leaving a mark of existence.
Time is just a passing
From windy to wooden steps
From the fairytale to the truth.
In this empty apartment dreams are withdrawn
Into the broken walls
Taking breaths from their small chinks.
I am selling this house.
I can't carry anymore this load
So heavy, dripping tears
From the ceiling.
I am getting to the door listening to the
floor creaking.
Once, I'd listen to a melody
We danced together.
We lived together in this place.
It's like a country I can't believe in
Anymore.
I am leaving this house
With a part of my soul.
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