You said you love me, but you acted
As if you’re not; you were so sweet
But then inversely reacted:
Without a word you cancelled me.
It came to me out of the blue
What might have happen to upset
A person that is loving you
Who’s more obedient than your pet
Its well established now, to cancel
A common form of disrespect
And it can cause a circumstantial
Or quite substantial effect
For what, my love? How can it be?
A string of questions goes, impaling
My poor mind, and I can’t see
A reason for this ethics, failing
To understand an awful truth
If I’ve become your job of patience
A luggage bag you dreamt to lose
Somewhere at the railway station.
pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades
dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons
poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera
of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax
around serene scenery, orbs, and idealism
Is unction vital to adorn naked words with plumose wings?
whose views of contentment, vim, and happiness?
Inversely hamstringing people with arrows?
sighs of sorrow sound sowed soil
mothers, wailing and yelling out to unborn spirits
as our hearts crave affection
poetry provides its verisimilitude vacuum
do susurrus coruscating suborn scarlet spills?
deep within a stymie pirouette
the tortured sinews of a troubled mind are twisting
my life bill was still due till my final breath
I bequeath you my spirit as expressed in sonnets
I bequeath you my marrow, wrapped in iambic style
I bequeath you my mind, crafted with mispronunciation
sharing with those who owe me a xanthous soul
delicate
low
relievo
but
scarcely
scratched
inversely
sunk
surface
deep
in
half
relief
You thought the sky was always blue.
Abruptly, it started raining with a substance like glue.
The beautiful butterfly flew.
And inversely, a sword drew-
You liked the morning dew.
But it was all temporary residues.
My destination for you was hazy.
And the longing to meet you was making me crazy.
‘All that glitter is not gold.’
Right?
But the mirage of the horizon is yearning me to approach nearer.
Was I being duped by my imagination?
Or was I close to my destination?
Hallucination.
The voice of light pierced the sanity of my mind.
Soon, the metamorphosis occurred.
What am I left to see?
I turned my head in eagerness to fly and ended up in the sky,
With wings plucking feathers one by one.
I realised the wings I got do not belong anyone.
It's meant for me to rise and reach the heights with a clear mind.
the pulchritudinous moonwake captivates
inescapable
implicature is
inevitable
as our psyche thirsts for light
so poetry shines into the recesses
illuminates umpteen flaws
inversely
provides balm for forsaken
Time clearly moves faster as we age
(as we slow down and the years accumulate),
for the simple reason that each unit becomes smaller
relative to our life.
At one year’s old that year makes up 100% of our experience,
while at four it becomes 25%,
at fifty 2%, and at one hundred just 1%...
And so life races on, an avalanche of sorts
of all we have accumulated.
It’s simple math,
but just as our situational awareness places our body in space
(and thus helps us drive, as the car becomes an extension of us)
so are we placed in time
by all the years contained in our body-mind.
And yet, inversely as we age there is less of us to go around
less of our neural net to spare for new experiences and memories,
and so those of our youth remain formative
sometimes larger-than-life
while the present as we age become ever more fleeting
insignificant even, to the point of senility.
So, life goes on, within us and without us,
and our experience of it speeds up as we slow down
(and so correlatively slows as we speed up);
Einstein had a simple theory about this
which maybe came from just observing his life.
(10/30/23)
I dream poetry;
I breathe poetry, for poetry
calls your name, feeling your
inerrant essentia—
your soul bleeds into mine—
a collision of cosmos,
diffused magnetically, once
a vagrant in a haze of miasmic
vapors—wildered and exposed—
you unshackled me from
this purgatory;
inversely immersing me in
your sphere of solace, and
blooming artistry,
lulling the vast polarities
splintering each layer of my veracity.
I dream poetry,
for your love drizzles
burgeoning constellations, amid
rosette sepals galvanizing my
orphic nuclei, with
every spark we sigh,
tethered to the infinite composition
of our unwavering love compellingly,
beyond heaven and earth,
devoted to you—
your fallen star; no longer silent, circling
nocturne arias entwining our destiny.
Winter fetches a hillock of the wind and downpour.
Exacerbating people to mislay their blight core.
Peculiar demesne keepers are utterly aroused.
While tiny dwellings, slums are bulldozed.
Flush breaks out among the poorest of the poor.
Thoroughly jiggling, they shiver in the spongy cure.
None of the people around me appear to descry them.
They are enduring dull, agonizing demise mayhem.
In the midst of the winters harshest season,
The scenery is desolate, and homes sap blacken.
Snow inversely overwhelms everything.
Making hills that are huge and transcending.
People in neediness succumb to the winter.
While we continue to offer a hefty fee for a heater,
We tuck ourselves into our cozy beds for the night.
People have stuck to death all around from frostbite.
Relish life by humming songs of love every day.
I'm unconcerned if it's winter or summer ray.
The universe is a child's hand on your shoulder.
When life is volatile, death lacks uniqueness jolter.
Written: January 15, 2022
Winter Wonders Within Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
Living between the spaces,
of what never came to pass
The light rays self-divided,
the present from the past
Living within the moment,
no time to lose or gain
The choices made inversely
—in yes plus no refrain
(Rosemont Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
I walk alone on the street
Among the buildings in a queue
Among the cars running for pursuits
Among the subjects knowing not their names
And their thoughts by which they struggle for
The scene, they walk their own crowd
Aside from emotions, and smiles
They are idiots off-street
I walk alone in puzzlings for
As a kite flying among the birds
Or inversely the kite floating around
The upper and lower lines
We are walking longly on the glare
Into a scene that the person stare
Behind the strong trunks of evening gloom
endless leaves sifting at toes
away and beyond in the low light fog
universal laws lead us home
trios of students examine life
inversely inspecting ideas and worms
fall lives adrift in the warmth
unkindled by muting life to death
leaven for life bread.
Fluttering winds, hair, friends
all swirled like a muffler taken to air
let us climb high toward heaven
let us swan dive into mulch with flair.
Hear the muttered snivel of our kids
Puked away to gloom, twinge and disease
Wrecked by creeds
To fulfill an antique mores
Whose ruin is beyond scientific darn
See the boulevards and the creeks
Before sight are male Mal-nourished toddlers
In rag togs, blistered feet, beseeching alms
And ingesting the remnants
From the poorest buffet
They toil in tackle capacity
Inversely allied to their weight
From sun rise to sunset
To earn much less than you
See the boulevards
How they stir; bunched
On the trot to any kind of dub
To good and to evil
Death becomes a familiar friend
At first light and at dark
From toil, food, water and sleep
Such a despicable way of live
But then the espoused antique mores, woes
Regenerated by ills of the society
To the blanketed vision of the moneyed
To plunge empathy and impious reliance of all
Can this be our way of life?
Trouncing fortunes to antique mores?
Reticence to rascality?
And nationhood to meanness?
A tiny glimpse of your face
Makes my soul
Blossom
From its roots
A casual gaze of your eyes
On my face
Makes my heart
Expand infinitely
You’ve lifted me
From the darkest pits
Of this ill-fated journey
That's long been taken
Falsely for life
At present
You've scanned
My entire being
To inversely transform it
To suit your
Mystic motives
and
You've taken
Complete ownership of my
Whole heart
With absolute authority
At present
You've fed my soul
With your blessed nectar
To merge it coherently
With your
Eternal heart
In this precious moment
An ultimate truth
Flashed into my conscience
Like a blissful lightening:
"All through my
Tedious voyages
With uncountable
Sharks and whales
And
All through my
Uncharted flights
With innumerable
Storms and hurricanes
You’ve been
My safeguarding angel
And my only goal
To be attained
To abruptly end this
Ultimate chaos
That's long been taken
Falsely for life!"
The Clothes Within My Closet
By Franklin Price
6/24/2016
The clothes within my closet
Are such a sight to see
They tell quite a story
About the history of me
The range of sizes offered there
Thirty-two to thirty-six
The lower's where it's happening
A snugly upper needs a fix
Exercise a little more
Get up and move around
Amazing how the sizes change
Inversely to the chewing sound
Our Earth is round,
With lots of bound.
People always think for their profit,
Which enhances their greed and deny them to be greet.
Environment of politics is everywhere,
Innocence is not left anywhere.
A recent news surprised everyone,
A child saved his mother’s tumor with fun.
Both of them had a narrow escape from death,
God’s grace had given them great fate.
No one can be trusted blindly on this Earth,
Except your parents and friends you consider are worth.
As number of friends is inversely proportional to success,
But success is only invaded
When you are behind excellence.
Still some percent of good people are left,
Who can be trusted without any crate.
Most of the children’s fate is sealed,
Even before they are able to feel.
Engineers, doctors is todays demand,
Children dreams are trapped without remand.
Children have the full rights over their interests,
And no parent is allowed to pressurize them
According to their tastes.
When someone becomes kind,
Others think they’ve lost their mind.
Now it’s the turn for all of us,
Not to be stuck in so much fuss.
Live independently, think diplomatically,
With all the people who act with you tactfully.
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