Petrichor is a complete vernal scent,
an ache so feral it’s filled with lightning.
Waiting for new plans to make a descent
the past seems to leave the future biting.
Plans slowly unfurl and then start to run,
a hit to the soul spiking bone marrow.
With no need to outsource to anyone,
you’re in control of your own tomorrow.
That urge to defenestrate the outgrown,
when you impel it’s a breath of fresh air.
Nervously investing in the unknown
feels a bit like that initial jump scare.
Choking on such cloying efflorescence
vestige broke in exposing my pretense.
“a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation”
- by Uneeking Seeker
I burn your passion that’ll climb wildly as vine
In a steaming fountain from soul and mind
I’m hidden spark, deepest source to impel
Your inspirations through words, I’m always there.
Throbbing within you, ringing like chimes
Demanding rest, so stubborn sometimes
Still, my light generates power for a lifetime
I am that I am for creation of verses and rhymes.
Gift from Mightiest One who said, I Am Who I Am
Your guiding spirit, giving joy, extricating glums
I'm goddess of aesthetic expressions, so divine
I am who I am, your muse from your heart inclines.
As every cassock is enough to tell
You are a minister
Either a chorister or a pastor
To grace well and impel
Is seeing you become only God's toastmaker
Every sunset gives us one day less to live
Count your seeds of the spirit
Spread through undaunted love
And not the course of service's bigot
But testimonies of brethren who enjoy your patency
But every sunrise give us one day more to hope
Most time making all observations dumbstruck
Replying each and every with a thunderstruck
It is no near to count a botch
If its effects work like a troche
Hope for the best for we are all human
Flaws are inevitable but can be abandon
No one has ever achieve chancery with God
That has ever live on earth a slipshod being
But clinching His dictates can make you ratherish well-bred
Good Luck
Get strong
Beefing do suck
Flee off wrong
It gets growth abating
Be the David's type Shepherd
Familiar with the said story
Not needed to be re-established
Failure needs no sorry
Be up and doing...
GO AHEAD, MAKE MY DAY!*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a squirrel named Clint,
who lived in tree branches in Eastwood near Flint.
With an armored tank near,
he ruled without fear,
for in Eastwood, with his reign Clint was content.
The rabbits did quake in their burrows,
while Clint fired acorns like arrows.
“Your cheese is certainly no match,
for my tank’s bulletproof with a perfect hatch.
Remember, I’m king of these woodsy meadows!”
So, if you should wander through Flint,
and see Clint with his tank beat up and bent,
just remember this tale,
of nutty squirrel with acorns to impel,
who fancied himself a powerful prince!
How fair the cheeks
Of a tiny cherub angel
How serene her disposition
Secrets she dare not tell
How charming her innocence
To love unconditional
How inspiring her destiny
To serve God and impel
How glorious her voice in unison
Singing hymns or praises
How peaceful at prayer time
Knowing she's at my side
How worthy an advocate for peace
And heaven's pride
Impel discourse upon one and another,
the unseen veracity of ennui and weariness causes me to covertly smother. Appreciation and fascination moderately transpire,
humanity led solicitous to retire.
A bond have infrequently on any account been achieved,
unassertive alongside what intend to be believed.
Loneliness forge such enchantment
conflicted with despondency.
A quoted warning tells us, “haste makes waste.”
Perhaps not so- denied by nature's sway.
Life spontaneity survives post-haste;
on this, God-given souls likewise convey.
Our inner selves are fashioned to express
impulsiveness to grasp life and to share.
No time to pause and study, then digress;
must implement its joys with timely care.
So, in-the-moment action follows through
when partnered with the heart to lead the mind;
as when a child gifts dandelions to you-
picked quickly from the lawn with love assigned.
And so, forethought oft kills that magic spell-
which acts of spontaneity impel.
Breaking ground, well trodden path,
boiling cauldron of troubles past.
Injecting theories, humanities veins,
cryptic messages to dispatch.
Puzzling pieces, testing fit,
exploit emotions, effects are best.
Impel the masses, blind ignorance,
dismiss dissenters from public view,
construct the stories, elected few.
Orchestrate, a mind control,
obedient throngs, the unstated goal.
Choose wisely your what guards your heart; for we are products of our environment.
Written: October 21, 2023, For Miranda Hawley Contest
________________________________
We must mightily mold matches in this life.
Actions must be taken to forestall strife.
We stop at every junction to demarcate.
What we decide will determine our fate.
Our upbringing has a significant impact on us.
Those who belong to us shape our solid fuss.
Be wary of who you let into your inner circle.
Because their vitality could be a hurdle.
You should stay away from the negative.
Things that are poisonous and deceptive
Smacking serves the strength to spread.
And impel your emotions to grow in dread.
Avoid those who induce stress at a distance.
Who twists a grin into a gesture of riddance?
Wrap yourself in a quilt of affection and rely
And witness your spirit soar across the sky.
A wild wisp,
bound by a vile kiss.
A rogue thought,
bound by flesh and an unchaste heart.
The parallax of bliss..
An outcast shut in.
Withering in distraught.
Die blessed, you stand in my cold rot,
Your flow taught.
Beckoned by a teal whisper,
enticing the senses to tame.
Amethyst's fragile wish,
inviting my essence to claim.
Your coy hum softens the core,
irrigates lust, makes me adore.
You dissent yet knead so servile.
Sweet subject, so ready, so fertile.
My Power to poise a psyche,
to hasten growth, or de-generate.
You waste in both pity and modernity;
a Dance of Eternity.
Hold my hand and crawl against the grain.
Surround my ecstasy with your misery and pain.
Hold it tighter and crawl through your shame.
Touch my flare, forget your guilt and blame.
Adhere to me; my servitude of the Bloodmoon.
Rebound your mental plea, succulent flame.
Centuries accrued in its elegant name.
Bask with me, potently; impel and preordain.
Gratitude
I am grateful,
to the safe limbs I have.
When I see few striving to impel.
I have gratitude in my attitude,
to the humans, being polite.
When I fear rudeness, at its heights.
Gratitude to the saviors,
of the nation,of the land.
When I move in liberty without any fear
I am thankful for the sunshine,
for the downpour,for the snowy wind.
Priviledged to see,to feel them is prime.
I am grateful to those,
who understand my prose.
Me as well ,when malady is exposed.
I am thankful for the darkness,
for the sad, gloomy days.
Doubles the pleasure of happiness on the way.
I have gratitude for all that I own,
for the universe, for the earth .
To the nature I belong.
The yellow scraps perform a thrill during fierce storms.
The breeze turbine is a lofty pattern within local farms.
Amazed, I can spot concussive impacts in the wet stones.
Bursting a ball of fire to tackle to impel amply atones.
A golden ovoid floats through unfathomable seas.
In symbiosis, green clusters wave in the gentle breeze.
Portentous obscurities better the mighty sweep.
During this time, igniting was lit on cremated sheep.
Misty areas are evolving naturally to be wildly small.
Efficient turbines humming, the trees shriek as well.
The dappled shade of padded blossom subtly changed.
A tentative mid-year sunset will have utterly emerged.
Twirled, observing the shadow in youngster-like awe.
A rare bird split a point worm and devoured him raw.
Written: November 15, 2021
closed paths
of me, drive me
explore alleyways...
.
Blocked courses
with no signs, impel me
seeking safe
shelters...
.
In the midst of flying
feeling dizzy,
half blind
I follow in the heart
radar...
.
Entangled in
wrong ways
imagine myself in
cut cords
as in labyrinths
of Theseus...
.
But if I lack
fresh roads,
I look for novel paths
in heaven... so I direct,
my fly leading me to
heights... beyond-worlds...!
The First American In Space
Charted expanse amidst constellations,
Strokes faraway Monet craft distinctions,
Obscured impel echoes an emptied choice,
Shepard favors Frost's view, narrative voice.
2021 April 13
Closed paths
from me, impel me
free paths ...
.
Blocked directions and
no signs,ordering
seek shelter
insurance ...
.
Amid flying
lost of dizzy,
half blind
I follow in my heart
radar...
.
Entangled in
deviations
imagine myself in
cut cords
as of in mazes
from Theseus ...
.
But if I lack
fresh roads,
I'm looking for other ways
in the sky ... so I continue,
flying to find me
heights ... beyond worlds ...!
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