Life Is Poems - Poems about Life Is

May we be blessed to understand across this planet on which we dwell… there is reason for the way old people and children always get along so well It’s in what they share with each other despite one being more in the past…and the other more in the future tense because old people with the children share their wisdom… while...

Continue reading...

Is it a furnace of coal? Is it a bottomless well? Is it the night of my soul? Is it as unsafe as hell? Is it might in its fullness? From it, couldn't I return? Is it death in absurdness? Here, would I endlessly burn? Do days, in it, look like nights? Is it a whirlpooling sea? Grief here, they say, like snakes, bites. Is it...

Continue reading...

Date written: 26th July, 2025 Contest: Three Options in I Poetry Sponsor: Constance La France The man who has no imagination has no wings. — Muhammad Ali ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Imagination lends me its safe wings, So I can soar toward futures I choose, To fill my life with hopes and precious things; Though striking gold is never a mere cruise, Neither are lily-livered crowned as kings. Sweat...

Continue reading...

Blooms that I see today fade the next day. Green leaves turn yellow. They dwindle and fall. Fruits that are ripe fruitlessly find decay. Nature stands alert to an unknown call. The flora and fauna feel paranoid. Curiously, creatures here cogitate. By expirations, nature is annoyed. Every being confronts the games of fate. I search for the sense of my existence. What's the purpose...

Continue reading...

Modern Concentration Stamps For Query Heights of subtly decide the best points for invention Delights of brevity decide the next poetic composition Insights of entropy reside and then collide in patient comprehension Conspicuous engagements of the outspoken looking for transparent attention Ridiculous derangement of the broken ones that should have been all about prevention Ambiguous retainment of...

Continue reading...

Modern Consternations of Lament Contradictions and formulations of thought that bridge the edges of time Benedictions and combinations that evolve into the refined Jurisdictions and innovations that are galvanised by crime Crucifixions in the courtyards of those who draw the cursed lines A damsel in distress crying for all the loss that cannot be expressed A shadow of progress dying...

Continue reading...

The Departing of The Heart Salutations for the sound of mind and poverty of heart Reparations that don’t come through in time to rectify the start Commiserations for the ones who find it hardest to eventually part Palpitations of another heart that cannot perceive the concept that it must depart Military consequences that send the...

Continue reading...

Meandering Rhythmic Transformations Imbued by ink attuned to think before my ships about to sink Reviewed hues of too much to soon leave room for Fred Astaire to croon Previews of life lived without strife illuminated throughout the night Subdued reflections of abject detections of realistic injections of true insight Humility among the labrynths of disguise and...

Continue reading...

Idiosyncratic Introspection Fear turned inward can only eventually present outward in its expression Tears are trepidatious when dealing with years of emotional repression Lear as in the King was another vehicle for literary confession Clear as water from a river bed that keeps your mind flowing in thoughtful procession Culmination of such tension brings a terse...

Continue reading...

Intuitive Clones of Progress and Dying Obsidian stones for some contrite emotional relief Oblivion clones marching in combined technocratic belief Meridian moans of melancholy surging with existential grief Davidean tones of allegory forming from a holy belief The lack of any certainty that defines someone living on the edge The cracks in processing modernity that leave you lingering...

Continue reading...

Intro Out past the corner store, where the ice cream truck fears to roll, Lies a block with more rhythm than a washing machine on spin cycle, Where the cats wear sunglasses at midnight, And every pothole’s got a story to tell. Tonight, I tune my axe—rusty strings, missing a knob, Ready to melt faces in the moonlit back alley, Like a...

Continue reading...

Janice Avery loved deep green nature; like cherry sunset owls, gawping. She dwelt with her parents and Sissy, when old, golden days were walking. They lived out in the hilly country, where orangeish stars could be seen; And summer seemed to last forever, for days held a predominate sheen. Noons were filled with happiness laughter, that foreshadowed pink moon. Life...

Continue reading...

a freshly mown lawn the clippings become new mulch the grass will thrive now ...

Continue reading...

“I contain multitudes.” Walt Whitman ************************************************************** Multiplicity of the Self ...

Continue reading...

Seating ***Changing The Subject.*** You Know, The Front Row Has All Those: EXPECTATIONS! (And The Back Row Even Morre (Moiré.)) But In The Middle You Just Fiddle-Faddle ‘Til You Bust It! Out The Door! Quick. -Gray Squirrel 07-25-2025 ...

Continue reading...