Long Accentuates Poems
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It’s Thursday morning, the twelfth day lock-down here. While sitting cozily in my room’s balcony with a bible and ukulele, some tiny birds perch tamely at the balustrade inviting me to play the most romantic melody as each critter hops and struts closer into pairs. Filling the air with their boastful flirty-chirpy chats and rubbing their wings sweetly against each other, the peeking sun displays its radiant smiles from the white fluffy clouds. Overlooking my spot are green trees laden with summer flowers, mostly supannikas and golden showers. Under the dense leaves are branches where other birds sing joyfully in unison with the tunes of their daily unique songs.
God sent songs of love
under our natures’ grand wings
listen and be glad
Amidst the orchestrated warbles of birds, the flowing water at my residence's swimming pool is heard while its dispenser strikes its keys to echo the refreshing music of serenity. The small lake across my spot is vividly viewed while it acclaims jubilantly the wonders of the day with its shimmering tranquility, mirroring the fire trees and bushes in its surroundings then accentuates the peeking sunrise that caresses my face with its warm glowing shafts. I read silently some verses midst nature's sounds then close my eyes to feel the majestic wonder of another day, another extension of life and lots of nature’s smiles. With thanksgiving, I start to finger-pick each string and sing with all my soul and heart a praising hymn.
nature's boundless gifts
our God's overwhelming grace
long reflection piece
May 6, 2021 3.06pm
Moments of Reflection -Haibun contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury
Place: 1
Judged: May 11,2021
She sits composed, not as a woman,
but a lavish landscape of angles and cubes,
a psychological collage of splintered dissonance,
visible in the fractured facade of grief.
The body portioned into pile of unsettling planes,
the face split between the skewed profiles,
the misaligned eyes displaced down,
the limbs contorted into implausible grace.
All depict a geometric frame of emotion,
not a reshuffled shape of reality,
an embodiment of inconsistent identity.
The jade fingernails disrupt the flowing fractured form
with glowing color of concealed liveliness,
or of radiant rebellion, a disguised persistence
that something within her opposes deformed repression.
The facial deformation isn’t just style preference,
etched on unusual emotional visage,
but an artistic assertion of authority.
Yet, with the display of her amazing vivacity
the distortion doesn’t demolish Dora Maar,
but accentuates her charisma.
Inspired by Dora Maar With Green Fingernails by Pablo Picasso
In the place where I live, curtains rise and fall
every day presents a different view,
snapdragons sing with a gifted voice.
A focused sun spotlights,
accentuates
the morning glory of another day.
A faintly embossed rainbow
burned on the retina of a brand new sky.
Fireflies that like thousand watt bulbs
glow to light even the shadows they create.
I own my life, I cherish it
I live every moment in
celebration of every living species.
Where I reside I see no end
I know of no beginning,
rather rolls of events
and miracles for the taking.
My arms remain open wide,
as does my mind with acceptance.
In my habitat,
nature is wrapped in a quilt
of a trillion unimaginable views
in that landscape is where my God lives.
For it was he who by his own hands
knitted and sewed
this perfect mother called Nature.
Serious Sibling Subluxation...
Rapprochement Somewhat Salvaged Dislocation
This trademark ungainly, unsightly,
and unwieldy title essentially
huzzah mask ***** aid,
and accentuates tendency
(mine) to administer
reverent unpretentious yawping,
sans (asper thy usual)
wordy, nutty,
and gallimaufry charade,
though pointed lament
decries copious blather,
which awareness (in tandem
with better angels)
prevail upon sesquipedalian
quirkiness, might be
in my best interest to evade
leaving an unsuspecting
readers psychologically frayed,
and without doubt prematurely
finds same haired grayed,
akin to experience dramatic,
and sudden onset of progeria
hence, a concerted effort
will be orchestrated, i.e.made
fur me tabby
conscientiously choosing
modus operandi
to mute trumpeting,
associated with this one man
faltering hit parade,
hence, an intent to write
more clearly,
cogently, and creditably
qua more understand
able to in vite,
subsequently witnessing, an
increased authorial fan
base, and unite
easy to comprehend
intelligent conversation,
and/or share something trite,
anyway, thee impetus regarding
risking emailing
a younger sister,
where spite led to
dissolution, nee cessation
of brotherly
linkedin communication
engendered me to a right
emotional estrangement,
principally augmented
(thank you very much) by me,
viz in sum avoidance behavior
(purring, loping,
and humming along) quite
familiarly, easily, (no matter
discontentedly), alas and alack
moment seemed apropos
for this only bro
their to allow, enable,
and proffer selflessness -
pushing ego
(mine) aside and attempt to go
for the gusto hoe
embarking, kickstarting, and
resolving upon
reasonable resolutions
to convey persevere re-establishing
cordiality, despite misgivings
toward Shari Todd
(thee family member in question).
Neon lights lure souls streaming by,
giving steel and brick a fresh face.
And only the young can supply
the mortar that holds dreams in place.
Leafy trees line a maze of streets,
yet beggars claim the parks as theirs.
And sleeping there when day retreats,
they just ignore the angry stares.
Big-City stench pollutes the air,
trapped, under a smog's eerie glow
And we breathe odors all must bear,
as a surreal sun sets low.
Prostitutes hustle day and night,
selling pleasures of every type.
And meant to whet your appetite,
neon accentuates the hype.
Feeling the desire to achieve,
innocence gets tangled in sin.
And dangled dreams draw the naïve,
gambling that it's their turn to win.
A plethora of attention
focused on twentieth anniversary
regarding terrorist attacks
upon American soil nine eleven
two thousand and one,
thus Schwenksville poet
opted for his best métier write.
While riding atop a yak
both feet went wickety wack
trudging beast of burden a throwback
to the brainchild
of John Mauchly and J. Presper Eckert
devised Electronic Numerical
Integrator and Computer
otherwise dubbed ENIAC
cumbersome invention
programing machine no easy knack
also impossible mission or fit in pocket
book versus handy to tote
laptop perfect fit inside day pack.
As an aging long haired
pencil neck geek baby boomer
who reckons himself
as schleppy (snoop doggy dog) self groomer
cannot escape scornful passersby
sneering, snickering and snorting
at me, an utter embarrassment to humanity,
who also sports sophomoric humor.
Unfair for yours truly
to saddle anonymous readers
which travails of mine
analogous overburdening
an old decrepit ass,
hence lumpenproletariat
marxist (brother) fellow,
whose insensitivity
could be interpreted as crass
subsequently aiming figurative sights
upon fresh fields,
where leaves of grass
harvested by me one
Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe
ofttimes dashes off to Lake Woebegone
to escape madding crowds who harass
him, cuz he accentuates whole foods
with plenty of fiber to avoid
experiencing lower gastrointestinal impasse
acquiring moniker windbag
courtesy humongous formed rectal mass
necessitating the expertise of Nass
(another name for Nishga -
a member of a branch
of Tsimshian people
of British Columbia inhabiting Nass
River basin and/or dialect of Tsimshian
spoken by Nishga)
homeopathic remedies outclass
those of 21st century medicine,
said indigenous people
interpret objection toward their
age old medicinal practice as sass
even consider disagreement violation,
a figurative criminal mind to trespass
and the subject in question
a veritable, (albeit harmless) wiseass.
She sits composed, not as a woman,
but a lavish landscape of angles and cubes,
a psychic collage of splintered dissonance,
framed in fractured facade of anguish.
The body portioned into pile of unsettling planes,
the face split between skewed profiles,
the misaligned eyes displaced downward,
the limbs contorted into implausible grace.
All depict the geometry of emotion,
not a reshuffled shape of reality,
an embodiment of inconsistent identity.
The jade fingernails disrupt
the flowing fractured form
with glowing color of concealed liveliness,
or of radiant rebellion, a disguised diligence
that something within her
opposes the distorted repression.
The facial deformation isn’t a style preference,
etched on unusual emotional visage,
but an artistic assertion of authority.
Yet, with the display of her amazing vivacity
defacing doesn’t demolish Dora Maar,
but accentuates her charisma.
Inspired by Dora Maar With Green Fingernails by Pablo Picasso
The sun pauses briefly then slowly drifts from view;
The sky fills with magenta, orange, red, and golden hues.
Forest shadows begin to creep along the forest floor,
And melodious music is heard no more.
Along the meandering brook a grey mist lifts then slowly glides,
Beyond the tall pines, the moon attempts to hide.
The Owl witnessing many such events well versed in the supernatural;
Ghost or spirits from graves dug deep leave behind their earthly satchel.
Rustlings from nocturnal creatures briefly startle...yellow eyes appear.
The moon’s broken reflection profound though not severe;
The ghostly atmosphere accentuates as daylight bids farewell.
A warm gentle breeze blows and spreads its mystical spell.
Upon the ground near old juniper with twisted trunk sleep is hoped to find.
While in the yielding dimness it deepens upon the tranquil mind.
Senses keen and attention turned; the sickle moon shows her face. Capricious...Extraordinary lingering upon earth’s timid place.
And as the mist slowly begins to spread,
A prayer from solemn lips breathed to rid thoughts of dead.
And though dreams belie its fate;
It comes to explore that which fascinates.
The cold wind is riding in on the horses back and the air is slowly creeping up my new frock, I got it for a pre-Christmas gift and I have to try it on to see if it fits, I like the button line in my chest and how it sits neatly on top of my breast, it awakes a certain passion that reveals the designers thoughts in daylight action.
The side lines are amusing too, it accentuates a feature about me and you, I will wear to the New year's Eve ball with a scarf to match and warm air running up my back, and my legs standing in harmony with them.
I love the thought of winter running around the town, wearing long dress and miniskirts and the market women in the town singing in the street have caught on to the cultural beat.
Big women with broad hips dance forcefully and pull in the crowds and they too start jumping around. They sold off everything in a jiffy just because of the rhythm in their behind, and the patterns they create with the rhythm in their feet.
You can do business anywhere as long as you have something profound to share. Everyone starts doing rock and roll in the street and the market women start turning up the winter heat.
I want your winter to melt into my sun so that you can take up the bible and run and when my shoes cannot fit on your feet, you can try the lace up one that runs up your legs and place the stocking next to them. We are going on a ride with the ninja motorbike we will have fun on the high way and until the troubles fade away.
Winter is blowing in my back, and mountain goats are shouting. It is snowing way up there and there is no way they are going to get out of there.
When you are surrounded what can you do? but take a good look at the obstacle and find a way to break through. When the lions and the tiger are grinding their teeth and their paws are resting on the platter telling you that it is time for supper. You have got to find a way to break through the lion and the tiger’s leg.
Winter is sitting on the mountain and passion is rising in the skies.
LIKE A PEARL NECKLACE
Tall, dark and handsome,
First impressions are good.
A lovely accent accentuates his lips,
this man who loves my sister.
Two families joined as one,
As white and dark wrist circles
celebrate at their wedding
With aromatic arabic melodies
Fe Sehetak
A lovely cup of love
~
He was working at the Jerusalem Hotel.
She was on assignment in Israel.
~
A rolling car and shattered glass,
Almost snatched, the lives of father and son,
but for a miracle from God.
~
In my sister’s living room, cozy,
her husband’s Palestinian parents.
Emotive communications,
Joey’s grandma and I,
through God’s grace.
Our mutual love of her grandson, my nephew.
We point to the baby, and we blow kisses,
and point to the heavens.
A shared cup of joy and tears.
~
Like a pearl necklace we slide together,
the world grasped in the beauty of
shared smiles and gratitude.
And love.
6/11/2017