he is known as the bat who juggles leaves
we have to go see him!
he will be in the courtyard at ten tonight!
I thought my friend was nuts.
Who wants to see a bat juggle leaves?
She would not let up.
She hounded me and hounded me.
I finally relented.
Yes, it was a bat.
And he juggled leaves.
Nothing else to say.
Though we sit alone, we are in a crowd,
hounded by thought forms we cannot repulse
and the cacophonic din is so loud,
we fail to be enthralled by bliss beat’s pulse,
until we enter silence on impulse.
If the light of Self is what we would see,
ego must be exhumed, that soul be free.
We find we are by thoughts hounded
No wonder we feel confounded
When we are still, ego objects
Yet silence is where soul’s grounded
Mind but makes the simple complex
All that thinking does is perplex
Mind’s an instrument for the heart
Imposing balances and checks
In staid stillness our fears depart
Truth dawns on adding love to cart
When ego dies, the truth is known
That’s the way God-search to jump start
Blaring lights of glaring savauge,
Gaudy surmise ceased to suprise
Light of darkness, sun to the sky,
In sight to sanitise the tear of thy eye
Unswept and wept 'pon broken bodice,
Wept and kept and hounded the goddess
Fanned the fawn of cauterised fallace,
Hell of cold, unearthly palace
Chaste and torn chest of satis,
Man to maid and hound of malice
Seam to see unravel of ravage,
Goddess to test the fondest of savage.
Tampered photo,
Tampered life,
Born elite,
Married Strife.
Never one mans wife.
Wed to the nation,
System creation.
Freedom lost.
Chosen, at what cost?
Wishful eloper,
Like the in law shirker.
Mother,
Worker,
Food bank opener.
Country ambassador,
The monarchies future.
Press hounded
Hunted creature
Populism fall girl
No one to catch her.
they run to Hollywood
waiting to be discovered
in a dime store or a parking lot
young and hot
beautiful people
waiting for their chance
they want to be stars
seek being noticed
want attention
finally becoming celebrities
now they are hounded
everyone wants a piece of them
they cannot get to their cars safely
they have to hire bodyguards
we read stories about them in the tabloids
he was just a scrawny little kid next door we think
wondering if his life is better now
or much much worse
A life in tree-lined poetry
Once I was a cook on the high seas and worked long days
seven days a week; Eater and Christmas meant more work
baking cakes and baking bread.
It was not only tiring but boring to seafarers like solid
food that they are used to from home, which makes
cooking into a job of blindfolded ennui.
No wonder cooks turn to drink, the combination
of long hours, infinitely making meat cakes and mash
can send anyone into the abyss of insanity
For my next job, I learned to cook books and found
I had my latent talent how to make stories, to make
the numbers tally; I could sit in a soft chair doing this.
For a reason, lost in the fog of the past, I ended up
a counsellor, a strange occupation, telling the unlucky
not to drink, when at night enjoying a whisky or two.
I was found out and sacked; how shocked they were
the justly seniors took my license and nameplate on
the door, hounded me out of town.
There was one escape, back to sea and cooking stuff
long were the hours when not reading self-help books
until some said: “aren’t you the one who got fired?
Started simply sustained systematically
Sorted out. Out of bounds boisterously
Bombarding bombing bombastic know how.
How the hooligans hounded the whole house.
Whole house stood on stilts.
Stilts, still Waters never dry.
Dry not to drought
Drought today pray it be tomorrow's
River. River? So how was horrendous
Waters run high. High above what was.
Was dengue fever subsided so
Scientifically speaking the dam
Had burst water up high.
High up to spaces never seen
Then it rained.
Feathered friends flying high
To perch upon evergreens.
Evergreens are sacred.
Now you know.
Excellently Exceptional say all
Words ending exploiting those
Efficiently ending in enders echoes
Etching out effecters effortly ends
With intended specialty especially
Enders game.
Game ending
Check mate
From clearly worried shaky lips
Much surprising confident tips,
Less and less notice of sure death;
Moving her remains to a heath.
The Dying is, sometimes Genius
Digressions,can see,are ruinous...
A few minutes it'll be over
From then, as a fresh ghost,Rover;
She would first on her own roof perch
Next,on far-away Britain's Birch
"Son,peace make with whom you've wounded
But it must be body,not heart
Close friendship with whom you've hounded.
But disfigured not with your cart...
"I've heard you Ghost-In-The Making
Maurice shall his time be Taking".
Work is lifting up your friend's hand ~ hounded in a farm where God dwells not
new dog on the porch
our pet cat at the window
shrieks like a banshee
Indignation hair-raisingly sounded
when our “queen” cat was more than astounded
by the new pet Dad brought
to the house. Cat wailed “NOT
on MY watch.” Then that poor dog she hounded.
our cat’s hissy fit goes down as the worst in her catdom’s hiss-tory.
Jan. 25, 2022
For Charles Messina's Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku Poetry Contest
(inspired by a YouTube Video I saw on FB. it just cracks me up)
Your flick of eyeliner,
Tattoo's and beehive
A bit of rock and roll,
something of Jazz or Jive.
Your authentic words
ingrained in our memory
Listening to the beats,
tapping along to the melody.
The sultry, smokiness
the range of your voice,
We're right there with you
the moment you soar.
As you up the rhythm
taking us on a
Nostalgic, Jazz filled ride.
When we saw how they hounded you
We felt that knock to your pride.
Your determination,
uniqueness and drive
Inspired us women,
Man you did shine.
Watched you grasp onto the feeling's
to help release a little pressure.
Inhale the love before it became a bit lesser.
Back to Black when he went back to her.
You sang us through the hurt,
Coming down from the high.
We sang along with you,
We heard your heart sigh.
Walking around a little shattered and broken
A hole in your heart, alone and unspoken
Clutching to something to fill the void
Is it a hunger, a lack of nurturing and care.
When we need it the most hope somebody is there.
10/07/2021 contest- What makes you sigh. sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Meghan and Harry
So, Meghan and Harry appeared on the unelected
queen of America´s Oprah, last night.
Banality swam in a sea of phoney weeping.
Harry, the prince, when not feeding, the chickens
had to listen to them and nodding his head.
He cut a pathetic figure.
The gutter press goes after all young royals coloured
or not, Harry´s mother was white as the driven snow
yet she was hounded, one can say, to death.
There is one winner here that is hard-as-nails
Meghan got her prince, and she has been
elevated to schmaltz, the upper class of triviality.
Statues of Darwin
David J Walker
Cayotes claim what they can of
The daylight hours hounded by the
Windblown November sun
Below the Mesa
No better than the
Blazing days of the summer
Only colder
Every rock looks the same
Every plant a chameleon
Every insect a meal in a race for
Its life
Here the world is cruelly honest
About its business and
Indifference to death
Here, life is recycled
Without ceremony nor prayer
Language needs no interpretation
Reading is seeing and reacting
And each species erects its own
Statues of Darwin
I love you so please don’t slip away
I love you so please don’t let these things take you away
I love you so please allow your mind and body to be free
I love you so please don’t fall
I love you so please remember who to call
I love you so please don’t fall
I loved you ..
I loved you but you allowed things to take you away.
I loved you but you allowed your mind and body to be hounded
I loved you before you allowed yourself to fall
I loved you but you forgot who you were supposed to call
I loved you , but this isn’t you. so my love for “you” is gone.
I was devoted to loving you, I was the one who was supposed to be able to love you.
I was supposed to be the one to heal you
But because you could never love you , I will never love you.
Not by choice , but because you wouldn’t hear the words of my voice.
The epiphany is you is really me, well maybe the old me. I had more faith in you
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