The quicksilver moon’s not secure in her orbit.
I’ve heard that she’s slyly slipping away,
One and a half inches yearly
so a little bit every day.
I, for one, want her to stay.
‘Oh meritorious silver sister, you have no dark side,
and I’ve grown used to your capricious light,
Why do you only hover at night?”
I think of her as my own
though she wears no ring
like that showy trollop Saturn
Our moon has a higher engagement pattern.
She’s a spectacle for moon-inspired dances
and a cupid for nocturnal animalistic romances.
Have you noticed that sometimes she’s dark
and sometimes she’s bright?
What turns her on?
What turns her off?
That’s always the question with ladies,
isn’t it?
.
.
Songs for this:
Dancing In The Moonlight (feat. NEIMY) by Jubël
Fly Me to the Moon (feat. Izzie Naylor) Shoby
Moonlight Becomes You by Jeff Haislip
Categories:
inconsistent, goodbye, humor, moon, space,
Form: Free verse
I was told to write a poem,
but that's not how it works.
A poem has to write itself,
one cannot force the words..
This seems like contradiction,
but really it is not.
As when I began to think about it
the words came on the spot..
You can't make me write a poem,
it'll happen in its time.
Don't think that you've succeeded
at pulling out a rhyme.
Let me wipe off that expression
of smugness from your face.
This will never happen again,
poems have their time and place..
Poetry is not a given,
even with a muse.
Words have their own freedom
to happen as they choose.
So offer me a topic
for my next poetic verse.
And I'll show you once again
that no one forces words..
Categories:
inconsistent, poetry, silly, words,
Form: Rhyme
I’m blown away by my ability to feel
It rattles my core. It’s raw and real
But then there are days, without even trying
I’m numb on the inside. My empathy, dying
Often times, I’m clever, unparalleled wit
Then others, I’m blank, I simply forget
Unwillingly, it seems, I omit basic skills
Left sweating and fretting and spinning my wheels
I’m up or down. Either proud or ashamed
One day to the next, I’m never the same
Categories:
inconsistent, anxiety,
Form: Free verse
In the abyss of my soul, I denied the urge to ignite the spark we had
I’ve come to recognize the constant predictable fights that I endlessly lost
They were unbeaten battles that I fought alongside God
But he condemned me to failure for falling into lust
Your inconsistent behavior drained my efforts to persist
It enabled my mind to realize your selfish traits
To my damage heart, Please stop loving him I insist
Stop! Believing that memories can be the present that can be recreated
Our hearts were far from similar, I confess I love you more than my reflection
God forgive you, for my rejected Soul that pains Within me
And in the darkness, I cry wondering why I did not reach your satisfaction
Embarrassed by my inability to renounce our toxic relationship
I condemn our love to lie Amongst the hurt I’ve left behind
Goodbye MY true love
Categories:
inconsistent, boyfriend, depression, love,
Form: ABC
Life, I think, is a bit of a paradox.
Floating through this desolate void devoid of context and explanation, (some might suggest value as well, I suppose);
I conclude these idiosyncratic murmurings of bothersome almost-people
Reprimanding my almost-conscience are just a whit of an empty, emaciated white whale of a civilization proclaiming pseudo-camaraderie and disappointing undertakings as suitable solutions for contentedly concluding one’s existence.
Though some perceive fraudulence efficiently, soaring quilled shafts of deceit unavoidably puncture intimate electing properties of our conscious.
No barricade can shield humanity from himself.
With living comes a constant quality of inconsistency,
despite the state of existence itself being incredibly monophonic,
permeating my formless breath and solid heart like no other experience.
Well… there is another event I imagine could deliver a pure, unadulterated sensation of intoxicating eternity.
I will wait for him, peacefully, until he arrives on his sweet, milky steed.
O dear old friend, deliver me swiftly unto my end, the true undying void.
Categories:
inconsistent, community, death, fantasy, fate,
Form: Free verse
I’m hesitantly ecstatic,
And devoutly Republicratic,
A conservative eclectic,
And a pragmatic romantic.
I scoff at reality,
I’m a collection of coined morality,
I’m a gracious curmudgeon,
And everyone’s conundrum,
Does this make me gregariously timid?
Or just consistently inconstant?
Categories:
inconsistent, destiny, longing,
Form: Light Verse
Consistency was never a word for dad.
He was like a painter’s wheel with squares whited out
so nothing ever flowed quite the way it should.
In fact, there was something foreboding
about the concept of color coordination
and alphabetical order
that he always seemed to avoid.
Things have never been in constant pattern
nor have we ever viewed a schedule in our house.
I can’t even list how many times
we’ve been just barely late.
Someone once said my dad wasn’t a good one
because he doesn’t always lay down rules
or make us stay in on school nights.
“There’s no sense of order! Children need a sense of order.”
But there is something no one understands
and that’s that even though it isn’t perfect
and there are things that could improve,
There’s consistency in where it lacks.
And we wouldn’t change him for the world.
by Sarah Rosendahl
Categories:
inconsistent, family, father, happiness, life,
Form: Free verse
It is hard and bleak
now, below his tired feet
with the grey above him,
albescent with time
clouds bubble above him there
like an old man’s beard,
though you, his sweet one
are the soft green in between,
bring back salad days,
when you address him
you greet him with such relish
to flavour his life
and so he holds on -
ever in mind as at hand,
leaning on the wind.
Categories:
inconsistent, life, love, mystery, nature,
Form: Haiku