I'd rather fall at the hands of nature—
endure the whiplash from changing seasons,
be ransacked in storms erasing verdure
but not by crude loggers or their reasons.
In time to come, I might be metallic,
slip from imagination, unreal!
What is wood, this leaf, but an italic?
Who will append me to the holy grail,
will to elegize my lost symmetry?
Today has already begun with breeze
lilting foliage; fluttered melody,
transporting berries, bewitching degrees.
A caterpillar licks my face away,
and a worm is canceled by a blue jay.
Mystic magnetic fascination
is a shared enthrall;
kin to emancipation,
it is wired in us all.
A connection internal
serves as our one true voice
and stirs emotions supernal -
in this we have no choice.
Nature is unparalleled in
gifting divine intel
for it provokes intoxication
in each soul’s swell.
We spiritually dwell as
we feel deeply compelled
to exalt admiration with
grateful declarations.
... CayCay
July 26, 2019
For contest FINE TUNE THIS COLLABORATION sponsored by Line Gauthier
(Title) AFFINITY WITH NATURE / Line’s lines (poem shows them in Italic):
Magnetic fascination
Kin to emancipation
A connection internal
Stirs emotions supernal
Nature is unparalleled
Provokes intoxication
As we feel deeply compelled
To exalt admiration
the rhythm of old poems,
precision breathing
in and out,
nose and mouth.
reality fogs a window
on a cold winter morning,
clears the congested mind
one wrinkle at a time.
in our misspent youth,
we twist words around the tongue
and take them out of context
without real meaning.
after we learn to stammer
in the italic frame of spoken language,
we speak without real communication,
every word uttered is misunderstood.
the rhythm of old poems,
simple beauty without change.
i always come back to them
pure as the frost
on a window pane.
Left over overspills are a typewritten error and a grammatical code of which there is no collision of nouns, verbs or adjectives. Descent described design deriving dug dirt. And a soil no shine. A voided coloured counting ball is many balls on cruises to oil lakes. Found in farm grounds. Sluice then slice slice slice. But thrice times an angle in a wailing tree is nit a crystallized orb nor is it a hyperlink or a cycle of cubic measurement. Mature mo frozen italic of thought to a paper in the mind. And gathering although hazardous is another feat to match the toes of soul. Anatomical wisdom rattle. Shake shake shake. And a smiley snake grimaces at very tight reeds to pass to get the kill. Good. Greedy goblins grabbing gestational genital garments giving going gravitationally. And in addition to this a wide mouthed toad sits on that cake over there. Good. Fake that freezer pop. Z augments Z pathologically Z
It took awhile,
but I am OCD
now following directions and opening my mind
at last the bold, italic, center tags
make sense
finally satisfied with the find
I am no longer dense.
When They Pushed
Poem was pathetic and ended up rotten
When received wished you hadn't gotten
Grammar was mixed up in a big mess
How horrible things were have to confess.
Should have seen usage of each italic
Looked like symbol similar to a phallic
Being awkwardly stuck up in the air
And do it again, you wouldn't dare.
We finally came to the realization
Never knew nothing about punctuation
Thought to capitalize was a capital crime
So she avoided using it all of the time.
She even thought sentence diagraming
Were atomic charts and used in spamming
Entire English Department we did chastise
When recommending poem for Pulitzer Prize.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantationm
Bolivia, NC
Pink paper
waiting for a poem
from a poetess
She is alive with inspiration
writing the first line
suddenly
Italic suits her fine,
and the words, so beautiful,
become
They become and become
and supercharge themselves
on pink
Then "Silvie", she signs,
and we see her go away
from scene
4/18/2015
Sculpted perfectly to fit in his hands, becoming familiar with his grasp.
From the first chord strung with his bow on amateur steel strings.
Italic F echoing melodies, Steel skipping beats
Tuning her with every stroke.
Losing her pegs, replacing metal with sheep skin.
She is his violin UNSUPPORTED CODE
Anticipating his complex masterpiece generating sine wave to imitate vowels first.
Soprano notes scaling across sheets, he plays her A…A…A5.
Only consonant reflect in her G…G…G4 score.
His violin— no longer coos for others, her sound meant for his ears, setting the atmosphere.
Neighbors become the spectators, listening to lust-filled arrangements
Conducting until she spills notes across sheets.
His slipping bow never skips a beat
Her violinist has a passion for her sounds
He takes control of her
She relishes in this embrace
Tuned just for him
Standing ovation for encores
She awaits his next instrumental
He is her violinist
She loves being his violin.
Leaning against a story books light post, upon the corner of 44th and Broadway
Taking one last drag while gazing at the billboard ahead; quiet became this frame
Ushering the muted techni-colour crowds; cast amid a breeze as swirling about
Chasing trails of smoke emitted these embers; italic in jet blue to hail times cab
Marquee's melting into neon's dust and what was ? Blurred, the rear views mirror....
********************************************************************
...."Calling All Angel's" *
Leaning against a story books light post
Upon their corner of, 44th and Broadway ?
Taking one last drag while gazing at the billboard ahead....
Quiet became this frame ? Ushering, his muted techni-colour crowds
Cast amid a breeze as swirling about; chasing trails be it smoke
Emitted these embers; italic in jet blue to hail times cab ? Marquee's melting
Aneath neon's dust and what was ? Blurred, her rear views mirror calling, all Angels.
Our poetry...
A thousand times been read
Syllables contort tumbling
Under covers
Free verse unfettered
Beneath hot breath
Brail symbolic softens
As soon as alabaster wets
Lips’ reciting merely, what is
Or should be heartfelt said
Our poetry...
Sapidus is to taste
Licking walls
As licorice moisten
Is the dark, chocolate
Bar shadows cast
Through blinds
And legs of sunrise slats
Or perhaps, metaphor
Marinating passion’s hands
Our poetry...
Evermore in verse
Italic are the directions
Of sentimental waves
Strewn linen’s cryptic
Unmetered cursive
And letter lorn lavender
Stylish fashioned lace
Hence forth on and on
Withdrawn from structure punctuates
Our poetry...
Stanza’s line by line alive
Moves the throb muscle and tis’ heart
Further as the ballerina saut-de-chat
Etching out pass sweet
Tip brushed Dominican eyes
The mind is running after what
Shall merely be defined…as
Poetry reiteratively serendipitous
Clever as a serpentine
Waiting for a thought, an image or something; anything....
To jump start this heart; dead on arrival ? Sounds so familier
As sorting through life's dumpster a rag doll, baby hope; discarded
While time unwinds it's same old songs; composed of dispair her mother
Children themselves seeking dreams beyound these tears; another cold case
Text in abstract art ? Wearing rose coloured glasses be his conqueror worm; gray
Spectacle requiems mounting summits to embed their dire; dividing the spoils..
Gifts these gods; obscure, burning pages torn from pyres ? Historic's, white sheets
Draped an oblong box; adorned of black italic lines; criss cross, her corpse this state ?
Flesh bone as blood waiting for a thought, his rag dolls; cankerous sores blue lips; broken.
Broken hearts
don't often mend
after first loves are gone.
They simply hang around
sitting on a throne,
wearing a crown
called "trophy love".
Love comes and goes
but first loves
linger on until the end of time,
unless another love
as strong as the first
supersedes the number one spot.
Signs here, Signs there, Signs everywhere.
Square, Octagon, Triangle, even Rhombus.
Rectangle or Circle. I saw a Pentagon.
Colorful, Neon, Plain or Elaborate.
Wooden, Paper, Metallic, or Glass.
Italic, Roman, Gothic, or Arial.
To Sell, For Sale, or Sold.
To Buy, To Rent, or Free.
Discounts, Bargains, or Markdowns.
Moving, Moved, or Out of business.
Signs are to enlighten, motivate not misconceive.
Signs are to enhance, to assist not misgovern.
Signs are to share, make aware not misinform.
Signs are to guide, show the way not misdirect.
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