Long Burgeoning Poems
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Robert Cabot Sherman, Jr. was an All-American boy.
To his parents, Robert Cabot Sr. and Juanita, he was their great joy.
Gifted with acting skills and a great voice, his career went far.
In no time at all, California's native son became a star.
On television in "Here Come the Brides", he played "Jeremy"
This role cemented his tremendous popularity.
His first recording of "Little Woman" soared up the charts.
Bobby won uncountable teenage girls' hearts.
His burgeoning popularity was totally unquestionable.
Other hits that followed made him a big teen idol.
With all the attention he was getting, there was some strife.
Bobby decided to back away to a quieter life.
Yes, Bobby certainly accomplished much in his day.
At the age of eighty-one, he silently passed away.
Bobby Sherman
(1943-2025)
I thank Wikipedia,org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
As long term aspiring
gurgling (stream of consciousness)
paperback writer, there doth appear
an imponderable quandary
most likely experienced
by fellow neophyte authors,
one pesky bugbear
that just dawned, (within the mind
of this former tony
MainLiner) crystal clear,
i would bet mine
bottom dollar and declare
unequivocally established writers
mentally tussled (or still do),
how to accrue “Art of the book writing deal”
contract subsequently endear
an increasing number of people,
that definitely feel drawn
to thy unique flavonoid flair
with words this scrivener displays,
where oft times decrypting
(mine block chain) dost jam
at least one cerebral cog and gear
no matter how far away from me,
this mind can telepathically hear,
colorful epithets, thus
seriously considering donning,
summoning, and trumpeting
his swiftly tailored,
harried styled interlinear
difficult to interpret ma Bella cos
mean mien, thus ready
(lock, stock and barrel)
to ship me on a one way junketeer
attired in a combination
all force he zen,
(and Caesar) knitwear
and (thrift special red tag sale) leisurewear
oh...preferably gender neutral,
or specifically frilly pink menswear
which could be either
day or nightwear
yet absolutely non gaudily
outlandish most unlike
thine convoluted other worldly
unfairly punishing stentorian
verb hose noun sense sic cull
idiomatic ling goo whist tricks
driven by a harsh grammatical taskmaster,
(nonetheless one
gentle non-slavish overseer)
summoning positive
feedback to reap peer
burgeoning my popularity,
yet without being *****
yule us, yes...of course retaining rear
penchant inventively steer
ring an unsuspecting reeder
agonizingly testing their
pay shunts, perhaps inducing her/him
to race out the door like a a mad person
clad with (impeach 45) underwear
calling for men/women in white coats
to lock up Matthew Scott Harris
possibly commuting his
long runonsentence tea
ching fellow inmates without ten year!
As growing toward arrived full stature
Of mine physical or mental maturity cured
Childhood toward adulthood fully such Grown
---Growing up
~
In developing ageing maturing
So evolving in planted seed
While blooming, flowering, ripening
Getting on, getting along, progressing growing up breed
Burgeoning, blossoming, flourishing
Cross bred a story, placed in history
Energy, then a seed planted growing such
I am growing up
~
Spirit bourgeoning unfolding advancing
I am energy, spirit body, toddler, boy teen now man
Graying, greying grown yet still I am
---Growing up
11/9/23
For Growing Up Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
and why not
let them;
my son is asleep in the car
the radio plays
the skies are grey
the windows are nearly shut
a delicate breeze converges with
our transcendence
we are being transported
as he possibly dreams about
another football league he wants to invent
or, as he mentioned before hopping in the car
he wanted to leave the tennis early
to write his own song at home
he wants to relate, impart and begin his goodbyes
as the gale invading the vehicle is like the
tempest of ideas burgeoning his mind
i pull up to traffic lights and
i wonder if such joy exists in
the other cars
around us
Once a gambler, always...
... so the sceptics say...
My retort is life's a gamble
We take risks every day
I reside in a house palatial
Can justify purchases wasteful
Wise bets are luxuries paid for
Extravagant lifestyle enabled
Jewellery gathers, burgeoning
From overstuffed box, emerging
Avoid crowding, time to pawn
My value continually surging!
String of onyx required no thought
Ripped quickly, no longer sought
Capitalist bent continually urging
For exchange, gems duly brought
To seedy grimy store, 'We Sell All'
Flat rejection brought my apall
Not impressed by onyx glib faces
Declared necklace worth bugger all
In its absence necklace graces
Dazzling array, high value embraces
Dull rock considered inconsequential
Celestial head breeds striking phrases
NB: For Julia, who cancels Contests I enter
Take my hand Love,
to where the stars hide
above the upper blue of hot day,
burning on the fingertips of Eternity's forbidden skin
waiting within the thin melody of ivory savagery
for us to escape the boundaries of silent imagination,
we must go to where they struggle for our blessing
we must see the symbol that we survive for high in their souls
listen to the age of their light, taste the wisdom of their words,
I need you to come with me to the birthplace of my love for you
I need you to feel the movement of our young future in your honest ear,
let them witness the love catalyst, launch between our heart bound eyes
and in the finesse of our body fire they will know the faith and furor of stellar success
as comet accents furnish the secrets of ancient suns with crystal hymns
reflecting the atomic romance burgeoning blissfully in the volcanic skies of our combined minds -
J.A.B.
HOURGLASS SAND
She sits alone by the candlelight, pen in hand.
Wax drips from her fingertips, like hourglass sand.
wind whispers
in
dark clouds
Mascara runs, blotting sad memory thoughts.
Turns to rage, with burgeoning crimson clots.
lava erupts
running
down mountaintop
She remembers the depth of happiness as his wife,
like a mouthwatering stew, flavored with long life.
a ladle
mixes
savory gravy
Her lovely lithesome lines, like calligraphy, graces
the dawning of vellum day, whilst her heart races.
invitations
ring
silver bells
Her lashes, her brows, her lips move with her wrist.
Then anguish, transcends good thoughts, clenching her fist.
expressions
of a
worn face
She sits back quietly, taking a moment to recollect the early days
before his sudden illness, before the medical maze.
turquoise water
of
the Caribbean
When his hands rubbed her shoulders, as she wrote.
As they enjoyed adventure, in their romantic sailboat.
forever
and
ever ago
She sits alone, as shadows meander upon the wall,
attempting to tap the best of them, before death’s call.
8/4/2017
She Sits Alone Contest
Couplet Form
Across chasms of time
our eyes may meet
love long unavailed
will pull at restraint
tomorrow must come
and an adamantium sky
ripples the aurora borealis
above my meager crown
My admiration lies in hidden smiles
as this burgeoning lust rolls all eyes
secreting the ties that bound us
I deny its velocity and validity
As Judas denied christ thrice
I deny us and what we once held
hanging trees of knowledge bloom
the truth is undressed and undenied
Along the Rose line in all my dreams
A shrill coming together killed us
draped in silenced peace I prayed
knowing love burns ever brighter still
But in these awkward realms of glass
where destiny plays with solid rock
and deja vu awakes my middle eye
the blink of a universe trickles tears
Gently twinkling stars remind me
on the tip of my tongue a word
falters to only lay dead in my throat
to know love I must speak in tongues
Knowing this I kiss goodbye the earth
letting destiny take hold of my hand
Whispers cloud the judgment of weakened minds
wreaking havoc with the fragile balance of id and ego
humbling the sprout in its new greenery.
The winds are made of whispers, fear is their home
and each human husk shivers at the sound of them.
The unknown comes in the whispers of dawn,
the burgeoning of night, the bloody bath of birth
and the shriveled skin of the corpses we become.
Whispers cloud the rage of temporal reality
beckoning with their softness, tonguing the ear,
licking the neck too soon stretched on mortalities noose.
Reference Carrie Richards – A Dream in the Mist – line 9 whispered steps
Rubbing it's eyes, the year wakes in yawn.
Hibernating winter shade.....at last it's gone.
'Hello, my dear Spring', "Good Morning".. c'mon.
Advent of the vignette....embraces the dawn.
Look!..A child has just learned to walk..
His fortune.... new life....is excited to knock.
March and April date...dance and roll and rock.
Woodpeckers make home.....patient round the clock.
Clothes of Primrose, Lilies .....Daffodils and Tulips.
Petals unfold blushing buds....hiding in eclipse.
Burgeoning vibes of love.... nature in partnerships..
Orange Yellow Honey.....in Green and Purple drips.
In vernal color of wild music, ....nature is a gypsy.
The hymns of hummingbirds.... cuckoo chirps.... crispy.
Cadence of bass and treble ....the breeze ..soft and tipsy.
Oh Sensuous Spring ! ......"I Love Thee"...
Won't you now kiss me?
Dated 6th November 2018
Seasonal or Unseasonal Poetry Contest
Sponsor Kim Rodrigues