When the sodden vision lurks in the dark depth to see
the trace of soul’s insignia at the bottom of tranquil sea,
I fail to discern where the solemn stream I cry flows to lie
beyond the edge of the marooned mind until it’s dry.
The mangled mind swirls in the whirlpool of sorrow,
like the curling cloud clump the winding winds of despair blow
across the melancholic sky, turning grey from blue,
where with my broken wings I can’t fly any more with you.
The sunburst horizon fails to glint the frail face of gloom,
in wilted plants of my wasteland the buds don’t bloom.
Their dormant scent like your love wanders in my heart,
for I’ve lost you to destiny, my soul has been split apart.
You drift away in splitting storm under the falling sky,
the tormenting thunder breaks asunder my life wry.
As the silent pain the shards of broken heart amplify,
I hear the dry buds stealthily shriek the wounded sigh.
The sad tune of the agonizing whisper I hear echo within,
takes me to the debris of happy times we’ve together seen.
My heart turns into a leaf, falling from the longing tree,
swimming in the river of grief, flowing to the morose sea.
Afternoon ember flare coddles forest
Nodule noses, from dark bark eyes sap drips
Naked soldiers, Summer’s subside promised
Farewell foliage, spun fairy floss gossip
News spew swept red runaway train carriage
Ridiculed witches watch fireworks astral
Rudimentary broom aircrafts encourage
Twilight wake creatures creep from log capsules
Twitching whiskers, dusk susurrate translate
Trampled damp mushrooms mulch to mildew fleece
Orange fungi full moon balloon inflate
Hot flight flame exhales exhausting release
Grey limb wind tortured troops groan, familiar
Guards gravely wait for Winter’s insignia
31st August
Written for Contest:
Whispers of Autumn
Sponsor: John Lawless
“Imagination is a persuasive inspiration,
motivates the mind with creative momentum.” – Quote by poet
I imagine my psyche morphs into possessed passion,
becomes a drifing daydream of fervent entity,
imprinting the insignia of opulent obsession,
inscribed as the image of quintessence of reality.
At the ethereal edge of the sunburst halcyon horizon,
suffused with the surreal shade of celestial hue,
in your verdant meadow vividly aglow,
I imagine I am a sparkling dainty drop of dew.
In the splendorous space of seamless emptiness,
the canvas of azure gets gradually unfurled
in your enticing sky enveloping my mind,
I imagine I am a soaring free-flying bird.
On the beckoning bank of the serenading stream,
cradled in the reclined terrace perched high
in your alluring rose garden gorgeously abloom,
I imagine I am a flitting beguiled butterfly.
Under the star-studded sensuous sky,
when you come through the moonbeam blue,
I imagine I am an enticed poet eternally entranced,
dreaming to write lilting lyric of love for you.
Once envoys carried messages, betwixt those Royal thrones of Kings.
Scrolls of vellum parchments, all bearing wax insignia, impressed with signet rings.
These symbols of authenticity, made safe passage, through far flung foreign fields.
Where chivalry of gallant knights gave sanctuary, armed with swords and shields.
While Kings and Queens spoke of those deeds, by proclamation, made them law.
Preventing bloodshed needlessly, upon battlefields of war.
Once, candle flames on red wax, and signet rings, were used in days gone by.
Now those documents of state are stamped, by die and counter die.
Where independance from the past, the President holds sway.
This National Symbol of the United States, hangs proudly on display.
ABUNDANCE
tangible
& reminecent
a perception
of stimilii
in aspects
of sensory reception
with
variations
of functional
& emotional
desires&needs
an allegory
in the senses
personified
perceived
in the discovery
to symbolize to
pensive notions
devastatingly
detached
in
dramas in
of opportunity
recognised
as
ambivalent as
yet long lasting
aware
of significant
craving
these
insignia of vanity
gathered remnants
so
transitory
covering
contours
in splendour
of blurred transience
in
a past fiction
Amongst the guns and bullets
the tremors of a soul unfinished, refurbished,
by a cold cold war
Democrats, Republicans
dead remains without a name
who cares which side of the fence
you stand on
its a cold cold war
territorial sovereignty
tunnels and waterways
who owns rights to the land
God does
insignia of soldiers, rememorized past wars
no matter how you look at it
its a cold cold war
God Help Us !
With jaundiced eye I look at the politician’s vow
To make our world a better place in four years,
Cure all our ills, and provide calm for our fears,
And I say to myself, skeptically, exactly “How?”
With jaundiced eye I look at those who claim
To be patriots, but with angry words and deeds
Go about spreading discord and planting seeds,
Saying despicable things, obviously seeking fame.
With jaundiced eye I view the biased news media
And wonder the truth of any situation they report
“Doesn’t anybody report just the facts, anymore?”
Allow me my own analyzing without your insignia.
With jaundiced eye I look at magnificent towers
Built for “the glory of God,” on the backs of poor
Folks who fear the fiery pits of hell, for sure,
If they fail to pay homage to the “godly” powers.
Written June 15, 2021
For “Jaundiced Eye” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Thicket of intermingled branch tangle
Hides pimple shine ripe juice strawberries strewn
Across pine needle pick up stick mangle
Fragrant lily pink tang gives tasty boon
Hook horseshoe slender stems support balls' dangle
Gloss hanging globes celebrate scarlet balloon
Bountiful renewed eruption of Spring
Sprouts floated fruit fit for a fairytale King
Hidden in haven bed of duvet shade
Shielded precious berries, safe from predator
Sweetest treats endorse purely Heaven made
Cones pushing petals exalt Mother Nature
Lanterns swinging China Town of gloomy glade
Lined foliage raises redness in rapture
Emblem of wild leaf crown insignia
Represents righteous memorabilia
Humble hunter uncovers last month's melt
Freshened season floods taste buds in wonder
Tart bumpy tongue tid bits brazenly dealt
By pine imbibed wildness growing under
Woodland umbrella where I'm gladly knelt
Gaunt Winter cruelty is cast asunder
God's lollies extend tender umbilical
Sun warm strawberry snack sabbatical
16th February 2021
Written for Contest: Spring
Sponsor: Regina Mc Intosh
We don’t need guns, knives,
fists, or words to wound people.
A flag will suffice.
Our state flag was divisive.
The new one is for us ALL.
January 15, 2021
entered in the Completely Your Choice (40) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The flag of Mississippi features a white magnolia blossom and the words ‘In God we trust" on a red field with a gold-bordered blue enclosure. It was passed by the state legislature on January 6, 2021, and it became the official state flag of Mississippi on January 11, 2021 It replaces the previous flag that displayed the Confederate battle insignia in the upper left-hand corner, which was retired on June 30, 2020. (Mississippi, twentieth state; gold star, symbolic of the indigenous Native American tribes of the land that would become Mississippi)
A poodle lives like a shadow.
It is not ill-treated, just ignored,
so it moves from room to room
but stays away from her couch.
The place is littered with her underclothes,
discarded bras, panties, garters and negligee.
I had no idea
why these things all came to rest here
scattered around her like that.
To me, she seemed to rule them all;
displaying them
as a kind of sovereign insignia.
I was an occasional pal of her son.
Once she fed a newborn from her own white flesh.
The soft upholstery seemed to settle around her,
closing its wide mouth about them both,
including all the discarded clothing.
The poodle wandered away,
perhaps sensing it would could never be
part of her regalia.
The field is given a name.
Battles are about where they disappear,
the ones that walk away
don't know where the hell they are.
There’s a cannon ball under that Yew tree,
there’s a skull under that Ash.
There’s a hank of dried up hair
over there, woven into stone and moss.
After the blood, peace continues destroying barns,
insignia and belt buckles fished out and sold.
Excavated jawbones order and counter-order.
The officers that staggered away
go quietly mad, or marry well.
Surviving hell takes
a lot of stump-footed foraging.
The maimed tell their jerrybuilt tales,
cracked rockers creek along
the slipways of generations.
Hounds bayed at coons.
in the hot afternoons;
that was before the earth gaped open,
before the gore seeped sideways
into the earths wounds.
Good Generals and bad
have had their deadly play,
this scattering and salvage
of the blue and grey that day.
White, the purity of fresh-fallen snow
Pink, the shine of a unicorn's glow
Yellow, soft dazzling rays of summer sunshine
Orange, marigold tea blended with wine
Red, lipstick's lure; sensuous kisses
Purple, insignia of princes and princesses
Bright colors all, beauty's bounty of roses
Fill crystalline vases, in gay fetching poses
If the cock
lived on a steep hilltop
away from immediate vicinity
we'd tell tales of it on moonlit nights
we'd call its comb a crown
an insignia of its superiority.
At dawn we'd savour its "heavenly" crows
with relish.
When the hunters brave the slope
and capture it,
the commoners would say
"look at the limbs - pentadactyl like us"
the kingsmen would say
"look at the poise - elegant like us"
A royal edict would be passed
to forbid its consumption
except for a king on his coronation.
It'd be served grains on plates
made of gold
and its neck be adorned by pearls
finely polished.
You see, absence is presence
With absence grows preference
and with preference comes reverence.
Scorned is the scorching sun in the Sahara
And if diamonds were aplenty atop the soil,
what a great weapon it would be
for plucking mangoes
yet to ripen.
Absence is Presence.
Abu Harith©
Gone are countless moments
Wasted years spent feeding on toxic fumes
No longer able to recognize myself
The mirror screams
And soon I will forget it all again
My room is far to frightening
Even my bed has goosebumps
I can't even go out anymore!!
I want to collapse into an old rocking chair
To forget this sick that obsesses's me
I'm exhausted
Done with being strung out
Yet, still strung out
Spontaneously combusting
Rearranging the stars
Birthing a whole new sky
While I stare at a clock mocking me
The insignia of suicide
Gorged on the fruit that hangs from the branches
Of a long dead tree sure to eat the body and melt the brain
To much samo samo
Bull dreary neighborhood disease
Walking in broken shoes
Eyes glazed over with a frost manufactured from
Tiny tin bags
No where to run
Left reminded of a permanent picture realm of sunshine
Now left to mold in bags of trash
Stacked to the ceiling
Of a room where I've come to finally die
Agony is nigh ever-present in humanity.
It is the nefarious antagonist that unabashedly lurks in the shadows;
And With detestable malice, it strikes with a hellish wrath.
This abhorrent lash is the unintentional crafter of heroism.
It inadvertently forges a shield that encompasses willpower;
And from it, absolute fortitude inhabits its beholder.
To wield this hallowed bulwark, an adamantine resolve is vital.
For the wielder is bequeathed with the insignia of gallantry;
And with this newly reaped brand, one must also retain humility.
Inevitably, the herculean task of attaining leadership takes its toll.
It Will, unfortunately, weigh on the heart of its heritor incessantly;
Despite this, its proprietor must remain vigilant and compassionate.
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