Beauty Irony Poems

the bridge
seems the 
connection
of this to that
and the bridge 
not to be denied
hides the appearances
of this and that...

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ronic – isn’t it…?
The very essentials we need to survive
Are the same essentials that endanger and destroy us!
The very same people we love
Are the same...

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I have a confession to make.
I don't know the first thing about poetry.
I don't know about the rules
The rhymes
The euphony
That add to its glory,
Its beauty.
I...

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What is love...?
It’s waking up at dawn,
Whispering their name before the world awakes...
It’s folding hands in prayer,
Asking the universe to keep them safe...
It’s sitting alone...

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Your night in shining armor is...
Just Tin foil in the trash.
You've have  been a toy of his.
Just feeding on his stash.
You say it's love,...

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All appearances

Are nothing appearing..

Appearances are not

Definable because they

Are nothing...

Seems like a good story..!!...

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Take advantage of those non enduring things,
they are similar in swiftness to evanescent time:
it's the cleverest thief stealing your last dime,
who saves in an amber...

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Why Little Red Riding Hood
Seems you're steppin' out
Dodgin' bullets and pullin' clout
And what happened to the Grandma stop
Did she want you out?
The whole forest heard...

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My mind could well from a million alts choose: 
Marvel at beauty of that moonless sky, 
Re-live that meandering slow boat cruise, 
Recall fragrance from...

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     Poetry becomes thee
       but not me
        ...

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      Bored with nature, I spurned the gay meadow
        Stepped on ladybugs, swatted...

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We blindly traverse life’s vicissitudes,

Upheavals and harmony

An odyssey in search of love,

Beauty, truth and happiness

Lamented in moments of sorrow

Euphoric in joyous bliss

Recorded in hours, days...

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Look at those glimmering orbs, 
glazed like galaxies in an unending space.
Look at those glittering lips,
curving up like a cresent moon on face.
Look at those...

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Colors fade
Petals curl slowly
Grudgingly
Succumbing
To Autumn’s
beauty
...

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pink fireweed blooms
through the spokes of the ghost bike 
beside the highway 
...

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