A poem by Frank Daub
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The sea is just down there.
I am anxious for the sight
of stone turned to bread by the wash
of foam and the jetting of the salt water.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The spiraling gulls
are sun lighted bright in their play
above the sand,
their startling dive
toward the sea is brief
in time and sight.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The freedom of the coast
was eight hundred years
at taking.
One bold county man’s toast
to the awakening water
baptizes the youth
who have forgotten Eire for other lovers.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
I haven’t heard the all
of every song
or the rise and fall
and rise of every story
that set a mother’s son
free to calculate a career.
I stand for stopping; Brendan says, “too late.”
I want to stay
where the past has gone,
old rebel cries and songs.
Yet,
it’s Brendan through the gate,
and gone
and done
and through with old.
Drops.
In clots they come,
Jetting down festers of
The mean clouds that soar even higher.
Down here, the feet of the soil are mere clod.
Furnace rules upon the face of the waves,
Brewed and distilled from faceless chimneys.
The farmer’s rain is abroad.
Drought yawns with anger among the choir of
Desolate rainclouds.
Skeletal drops.
Measured in fingertips,
They drip wastefully on the teeth of the tarnished hoe.
A cloudburst comes to nothing as nightfall
Descends upon lean, famished thresholds
Laid waste by a running lightning.
Last night we packed our bags to get away
And now the taxi's here, it's half past four,
we're jetting off to foreign lands - hurray.
She's keen but says she's never flown before,
and adds, 'I think we've earned this holiday
to spend a week or two beside the sea,
the hotel looks a lovely place to stay.'
I tell her, 'Yes - and all the drinks are free.'
But then it starts to rain, I run indoors:
my daydream's finished, now I'll do the chores!
Three Options in I, Constance's contest, written 26th July 2025
I'm not lying ;-)
I saw it flying ^v^
high
and
low,
fast and sslloooowww,
in a saucer crying :'(
a Martian was trying
to find a place to go,
jetting to and fro ~~~>
the saddest UFO ***
His girlfriend told him, "Joe -
just get out now - go."
POINT ZERO
Birth slipped into fast flowing
rivers of patterned fissures
her arching brows brazen
searching sagaciously
microscoping every moment
tangoing across thorny
thickets
Hope gazed at her prayer
puzzle poised with pensive
pencils plaintively planting
plantains for pink parakeet
caressing spines singing
softly stirring custard
pudding
Love thought she was best
berry fruit from which fragrant
juice poured jetting jewels
a silver sabre silently stared
further from truth she stood
a sacked saga sagged
Death smiled enigmatically
held Birth, Hope and Love
in oblong esteem observing
Time’s oval ovaries to strike
sublime a node through
which she sodium sucked
Point Zero zipped in sidelong
zaps dishing each zappy
zodiac zones showering
all four with Infinity’s
zygotes zooming
Point Zero was Hero !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2021
Whitecaps on the water,
Gentle cooling breeze.
Circle Line with tourists
And a lack of jetting skis.
Babies in their strollers,
Joggers on the run.
“Ice cold water!” seller,
Thinking summer’s not quite done.
Trucks on nearby bridges,
Pigeons pecking ‘round;
Such a lovely afternoon,
Where New York vibes resound.
It appears that the Metaverse
is doing decidedly worse;
seems folks are forgetting
‘bout virtual jetting,
creating real holes in the purse.
—————
Facebook announced it was putting a $1.5B expansion of their data center in Hunstville on hold. Seems the Metaverse has lost the company $9.4B in the first nine months of 2022, according to 1819news dot com.
Jocular jokester jetting past Jib.
Joyful juggernaut jousting in jest.
Benevolent benefactor beseeching baby’s bib.
Bequeathing beloved blue beret, belly button the best.
Potpourri starship jetting through the black hole
In your eyes sparkle the retina jaded surprise
Dew drops droughts in ranges filled with cactus flowers
Glaciers frost environmental placements fold
Pilgrims travel journeys through intergalactic sunrises
Escaping the colonies complicated municipal towers
~
Jet setting the millionaires are traveling through space
Flying first class in this new space race
2/4/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
dark
heavy
clouds
unrolled
and dampened
the dry
earth.
Slowly,
from behind
the cloud curtains,
with jetting
rays the
sun
came out
and brushed a
jazzy
arc
in the
sky.
Waltz Wave Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Syllable count: 1,2,1,2,3,2,1,2,3,4,3,2,1,2,3,2,1,2,1.
Date: 10-06-2021
Placed : 1st
Bats held a contest the other day
Cats were invited, but most stayed away
Mats were down, but not one animal cared.
Mars was watching, Pluto just stared.
Cars were flying felines in at record pace.
Mars and Pluto were both making a face.
Planets organized this competition in jars.
Where cats and mats were jetting around Mars.
Morphed Words: Bats, Cats, Mats, Mars, Cars, Mars, Jars, Mars
Rhyme:
Word Morph Contest Held By Bats for Cats
Written: Feb 27, 2019
Contest: Word Morph Rhyme
Sponsor: Jesse Rowe
Vapor trails of jetting Jets
Pattern the dawn blue sky;
I gaze unseeing the passengers
With courage to fly, not as I.
Without firm ground beneath my shoes,
Fear straddles my old shawled shoulders.
Is this what it is, I muse
To be “older” and growing “older.”
In my closed eyes a boulder rises to my face,
Safe, soft statistics drift like shreds, crumble.
In my world this feeble flying fear
Freezes good sense; I am humbled.
the same people
they never change
neither do they
got a plan of change
they are use to power
and they can never
back down
they love to control
they love their staff
of office not the people
they are equal to
no good
their efforts are
full of selfishness
and till now it still
never change
I wonder if it will
one day
the same people
they are always so
high with their gangs
there followers are
mere slaves
they can't be second
but we are always
they never change
same faces from
1960
same corrupt old men
same brutality
same rooting and jetting
same greedy faces
till now there faces
never change but
only rotate every 4 or 8 years
the same people
I wonder how our
life's will change
if Same people
controls our life's
if same leaders of
old brutal yesterdays
still exist today
what will change?
is clear their evils
are largely felt nowadays
harder than before
their calls for change
is always an illusion
I guess their victims
are tired
I know the common men bleeds
I know one day
they will for sure
finally weak up to
chase away this
same faces
this
same old gangs
the
same people!!!!
Fly, Not As I
Vapor trails of jetting Jets
Pattern the dawn blue sky;
I gaze unseeing the passengers
With courage to fly, not as I.
Without firm ground beneath my shoes,
Fear straddles my old shawled shoulders.
Is this what it is, I muse
To be “older” and growing “older.”
In my closed eyes a boulder rises to my face,
Safe, soft statistics drift like shreds, crumble.
In my world this feeble flying fear
Freezes good sense; I am humbled.
Technology,
Just a time travel away!
Did people become so brilliantly clever!
Within a blink of an eye,
Evolving superhuman beings,
From cavemen to inventors,
Hunter-gatherers,
To knowledge condensers,
Traveling thousands of miles,
Within the speed of light,
From horse and cart,
To jetting across the universe,
Life at a fast pace,
Messages that can travel,
Around the world and back,
With one scientific click,
How amazingly human is that,
Mobile phones and internet,
Knowledge is the future,
How far can technology travel?
Faster than a time machine,
Gadgets for every occasion,
With comfort, luxury and splendour,
Everything for this generation’s need,
I think my mobile phone makes me more human
My mother thinks otherwise!
07/07/2016
For contest
Being Human
Sponsor John Hamilton
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