OHH!!! You Incessant Insect..
You make it hard to direct my energy,
Positively, Peacefully.
Why do you keep pestering me?
Investigating every inch,
Of what you can see.
I'm feeling the pinch,
The sting,
Them little legs Tickling,
In my hairs wiggling.
My hands are waving,
Slapping.
My Nerves are snapping,
I must be over reacting.
They must be attacking,
I'm retracting,
Packing my things.
Through the sound ,
Of buzzing wings.
Emotions are raising,
It's so FRUSTRATING.
Then my Heart Sings,
As Nature brings,
It's smallest and bravest,
Insects, here to test,
The patience of her subjects.
What we reflect,
Through are reflexes.
As my energy progresses,
Through this session.
Present in the sensitivity,
And bravery,
Of the incessant Insects,
Directing me.
I observe the continual ' over liberal 'design.' Demand
Demand and to shoot, is there any moral line.?
Spurred on by sucsss's over forty years.'
Assulting workable familiy units.. With a barrage
Of anger passive agression false piety? And many tears
Yet the formula it seems has garnerd, gains? And room
To cause so much division, self-doubt indeed so much gloom.'
Is there a lesson for others? On how to mis-behave?
Grab the spotlight and clamour.' By night or by day.!
incessant talker
zero common sense
wisecracking wizard
a jesting joker
annoying others
relatives run
co-workers hide
strangers don’t know
until they do….
resident
idiot
family clown
moron
buffoon
twit
the barrage
incessant
24/7
day after day
after day...
the bombardment
will not
go away
columns of tanks
missives of missiles
roar of rockets
the news cycle
dashes
all hope
So the heart murmurs and the kidneys fail,
The lungs draw wheezing breath as tedious chore,
The joints in every limb - feeble and frail,
The mind doesn’t remember anymore…
Yet somehow, something, somewhere out of sight,
Is full of joyous, everlasting light.
Now it is time to call a spade a spade
With the last winning trump card to be played.
As the ailing body mocks with grim grin,
As aging organs pull the faulty strings,
It feels the battle’s lost, fragile and thin -
Yet stroppy spirit sings on soaring wings!
Aha! Trees decked with
Gleaming snow, feeder
Still inviting the
Chilled birds...a kind heart,
A thoughtful gesture...
Snow falls incessant!
Picture #2
FIRST PLACE
Charlotte Anne is an incessant talker
does not listen long
stays on track
back to herself no matter what the topic is
“I know. My family was a piece of cow dung”.
“It is a wonder no one molested me.”
“That reminds me of my life.”
“I did that once.”
“That is my story too.”
“My friends all turn on me.”
“My relatives hated me.”
“My mother said she wished I would have died.”
Me, me, me, I, I, I, self, self, self, self, self.
I say “Wasn’t that horrible about Nancy Pelosi’s husband?”
“It’s a wonder my family didn’t do that to me!” she replies.
I have run out of ideas now as to how to turn the conversation.
I guess I may have to turn on her too.
I can put the phone down for an hour
her blathering continues
never slows down or stops
battered victim was a dying squawker
witnesses were questioned by the police
all said she was an incessant talker
neighbors are glad for the quiet release
May 2, 2022
Contest: Killing with an Epigram
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Incessant motion signals aliveness
Sentience, vibrancy of consciousness
Deep silence too, tingles with vibration
Inner sound current in meditation
Call it if you will, dynamic stillness
How still is our thought rested awareness
Is unfettered our desirelessness
What is the hum we feel in cessation
Incessant motion
Subconscious awakes in stuporousness
Deep sleep samadhi entwined with oneness
Planetary movement in perfection
Incessant play of divine creation
Perfect geometry; no randomness
Incessant motion
28-August-2021
The only permanent thing in this world we live in is change
Incessantly, it manages everything that exists to rearrange*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 May 2021
*"Nothing endures but change."
~ Heraclitus, Greek philosopher 544-480 BC
incessant recollection
dredge up imagery
imprinted upon
the screen of
the mind reflecting
back through
lens of the mind's eye
scenes of past nights
wasted spent in pointless
conversation getting
to know a person that
would not stick around
The knock, knock, knocking;
beak to bark, to wood beneath;
noisy woodpecker;
knock, knock, knocking all day long;
my head, oh how it does pound.
I've buried you under layers of sand and memories.
A life so busy,
I don't have time for you anymore.
To take time out of my life to put pen to page,
it seems ridiculous.
Everything has changed but you.
Is it that I can't be free of you?
That you are unable to change?
Would that I could rip you out of me,
finally be free of the verse and prose.
Would that I could take a knife to you,
to end the eternal monologue in lyric in my head.
Why can't you understand that not everything needs be written?
In the past I indulged you to excess,
let you free to fly across the page.
Now you plague me with your insistence.
Rusty and unused as you are,
I take you out once,
and again you rattle in your cage.
You vile artistry,
you detestable curse.
I simply don't have time for you,
in this new and rushing earth of mine.
Yet as subtle as the lily incense I set to burn,
you tap against my skull.
waiting again for me to set you to page.
each drops of incessant rain pours
its just all bore and boor
but the scent of success issues the awaiting game
the rules are set and the stage is ready.
the poet with no aspiration does not stumble
he has no dreams and has counted the passing moments
just doing the time- he jokes, and hope the rain drops will stop
but the heart as usually beats on cruelly without any melody.
he on the other side, mourns for the poet
as if it was all his call
the King of Solitude does not expect the touch of souls
rather the incessant rain to continue the ever pouring rain drops.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.