Long Come again Poems
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What stays after nothing else remains
Is the film of floating fragrance you spread
You leave when you go not to come again
For me to wear tenderly and not to shred.
What stays after nothing else remains
Is the sound of silence in the air you made
You leave when you go not to come again
For me to listen alone what you left unsaid.
What stays after nothing else remains
Is the image of emptiness you created
You leave when you go not to come again
For me to imagine it is you replicated.
What stays after nothing else remains
Is the treasure trove of memory I adored
I would leave when I go not to come again
For you to keep it in your mind adorned.
August 5, 2017
November 15, 2022
For 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 20
Sponsored. By Mark Toney
Welcome to my world,
Full of surprises and ignorance;
Just enjoy your stay,
Take time to understand me, okay?
Don't be confused with my puzzled mind,
Those mazes are just simple information;
That most of the people would question,
And sometimes it includes me.
My half-stone heart,
Sentenced, not to feel any emotions;
Opposite is the other,
Emotional, kind and soft.
If you want to come again,
Feel free anytime;
If you want to go,
That wouldn't hurt a lot.
For all who came and go,
Thank you for the trace and scars you left when you go;
It helped me to be tough,
That's why half of my heart stopped.
Thank you for killing half of me,
I'm now stronger than I used to be;
"Welcome to my world,
If you can't stand me,
Feel free to leave,
And be happy."
The hands let go with a cracking sound
Whipping our Smith to the glowing ground
Bouncing and wobbling his jiggly joints
Green swirls into Red, boiling patches into points
The Machine retracts and swallows its hands
Coiling deep inside its rickety glands
No gagging, no cough, just a calm ritual
To pull out a key, almost entirely habitual
It holds its key in between fingers
And looks at our Smith that unwillingly lingers
"We are going up, no matter what you want
The door to the Vineyard, my current haunt"
Our Smith rises, and slithers up the path
Not wishing to incur the Machine's promised wrath
"It HaS BeEn A wHiLe SiNcE i'Ve BeEn GuIdEd
.....I'vE nEvEr ReCalLeD, oNlY aBiDeD?"
The Machine catches up and scans without warn
Our Smith jumps and wriggles with scorn
"No Smith should be able to think without Star
You are able for now, but stop acting bizarre"
Blotches burn his burns, twice smouldered
Our Smith knows his place and continues, bolstered
He upwardly stumbles, until he smacks into a mesh
A crosshatch door, laced with flickers of flesh
"Now, stand aside, fallen Smith of mine
I must open the way, so stand by that sign"
The Machine takes its key and finds a lock
No time wasted, it removes the block
The door unfastens itself from the clasp
Creaking open, with a gut-wrenching gasp
The flesh on the mesh fall in lumpy piles
Casting rainbow hues on the muddied Pink tiles
"WhAt HaPpEnEd To My FrIeNdS, MaChInE?
WhY cAn'T tHeY fOrM, eNgAgE iN rOuTiNe?"
The hands come again, instantaneous and fierce
Planting our Smith beside the Elevator's smears
The hands hold our Smith's stomach, gurgling
Pressing, tightly, bending inwards, hurting
Crunching bubbling boils in his body
Crushing thoughts of anything godly
........................................
Our Smith loses the energy to stay alert
As the crosshatch contraption ascends overt.
Yes, it was agreed upon post discussion
For me, she was the only one
Expectations, as always, ran high
More so, as the time started drawing nigh
Each meet with her
No matter what the time
What the day
Would take my breath away
Today, everything seemed to be in place
My pulse running high,
My heart in a race,
Till the confounding call came as a spoiler
Instantly, I reached out for her
But, perhaps, it was late
A little while hence
She stood at the gate
The bell rang & I came out
The 'silent' raputurous beauty, 'aloud.'
I now just want the bell to ring again
No more pretense, nor feign
I can imagine her gliding in
And on her, all my hopes pin
Let her come again, never to go away
As in my heart, mind & soul
She holds complete sway.
I walk upon the brown, orange, golden, fallen leaves
From silent standing, now dormant trees.
That stand and rest at this time of ease
With no one to impress, or even to please.
They stand naked now, everything else gone with the autumn breeze.
They've let the past go and have nothing to grieve.
I look upon these magnificent, standing, inspirational trees.
Not with sadness for their loss, but with an element of glee.
As I understand their wisdom, that they depart to me.
Their time will come again, when leaves and branches begin to interweave.
A rebirth with new vigour, they begin to grow and breathe.
Oct 2018
Death—
I’m the silent noisy appellation
I visit once and not twice,
Now load your luggage in a jiffy,
I have given you galore of time,
Continue in merry making!
For tomorrow might past thee not.
Man—
Ah! I trembled at your sight,
Death! For I have heard thy work,
I have just taken in a wife—
And soon to bore me a son!
Can you give me months or a year?
And I dare not to cross,
The demarcation of my promise,
Or confuse you with magniloquent.
Death—
You have spoken well,
But I’m the spirit that never compromise,
I cannot come again, to reparagraph,
And again, what do I tell my master?
You came unclad and unprepared,
Dare I not for tomorrow shall not pass!
Man—
“What shall I tell my lover?”
That death has come or that my time is gone?
The most random serendipity,
The fate of an expectant couple,
Unrealism frowns mildly in this aegis.
What should I carry along my journey?
The commotion of this overwhelmed...
The sincerity of this metaphor!
The paradox of living, and the vanity of wealth.
Should I bribe death with my mansion?
Or with my scars and flashing cars!
Death—
Why do you worry yourself?
I’m the vagrant of nature, the drift dream:
And I need nothing, so keep those mundane,
For when the hour is come,
My fingers will snatch thy bleeding heart.
I’m the unannounced visitor,
That sits comfortably in your dining chair,
And wait to spell life out of you,
Brook your imbroglio—
Man~~
Uwu! So, this just it all?
The life I have planned ends,
And in second I shall be no more,
Sweat has bathed me....
And heavy throbs have almost pulled the life
Out of my being—
Death is wicked, and death is mean,
Why do you botch the plan of my luxury?
I wail to leave you my love...
Life and death are not fair to me;
The peak of my discernment.
Death—
I corroborate with thy soul to end thee
I’m enigmatic, evasive for I’m death...
Visiting houses and lives at will,
So, I ask soothingly......
Are you ready for me? My venomous;
Is about to visitor a home.
Man—
Kpashi! Uma ka kwagh ga cii,
Alas! The love I promised will go in vain,
Thinking about my solitary journey,
And the euphoria of that grain....
The rising anxiety of a quiet kidney.
Truly! My end has come suddenly...
The onomatopoeia of life,
Crashing, zooming and humming silently.
i awoke this morning
to the sun
licking dry any dew
that remained from the night,
or from dreams
that flickered like lost stars
in my deepest thoughts.
i never surrendered my mind
to this water-colored day
that sat on a half-painted canvas
awaiting for me to dust off the night's glow
from my own smiling face.
who said dreams are made for night?
nights seems too short
to trade in for one day,
one day to dream, broken thoughts
as they weave in and out of my mind,
much like the sun did with the clouds,
but i too drifted, winded across the horizons
and generated almost as much heat
as the day itself.
night had come again
and i watched as the sky exploded
into an array of colors around me,
wrapping me deeper in my own thoughts
as i dreamt of you once more.
From all tomorrows
you’ve been erased,
and all of our sorrows
drip to your lovely face
A light that was lit with forever
as mornings hand past twelve,
left this plain with the ferryman
in forever your light does delve
At first a shocking numbness
gripped us to the bone,
knowing that in the night
your spirit had off and flown
As tendrils of soul reach heaven
St Peter shall answer the door,
showing the way to forever
in the lights of golden floors
A rainbow of confetti will shower
to celebrate you coming home,
and we on the earth forgive you
for wandering afar to roam
A slice of life has slipped away
and submerged in I Am’s hold,
we will weep in your memory
our arms are gripped to fold
Fighting off that feeling
of emptiness inside,
remembrance is the key
to a place that calms the mind
—-
Deep breath
When you come again
will it be as gentle breeze?,
or will it be as rolling waves
and in the splashing of the seas
Could a gentle lark
alight upon a tree,
singing with a soul fullness
as ether-ed wings spread free
And as the moon in night
will you shine upon our face,
and as the Savior holds
with your presence he is graced
,
And as I silently cry
till a body jitters and it shakes,
and I’m wondering why
it was your soul that he did take
Please save a pair of wings
stained in Neon hues,
we’ll be the funniest Angels
and all of heaven will laugh blue
Its always at goodbye
that I startle like a doe,
but I will say we love you
till someday we meet aglow
So wait for me in tomorrow
with a sparkle in your eye,
I’ll bring you news of home
and on neon wings we’ll fly
And now I’ve said these words
I shall slowly fall apart,
knowing that your gone
is ripping at my heart
………………………………………………………Rip,till someday meets Forever
For My Kids Nana who Passed on the 30th October 2009
"Nature is a joy in spring with fresh life and a wonder than at other seasons. The myriad animate and inanimate forms living in nature surprise and delight us. The sight of little creatures taking care of their offspring raises our curiosity and heightens our admiration to the point of emulating them"~ By Poet
The silent snowy winter days are gone.
Lively spring has come again.
The cool wind brushes past my face
Animals from their hide, come out in chain.
A mother hen with her happy brood
Of newly hatched chicks like balls of wool
Is out of her coop for an outdoor hunt,
To feed on termites under dry leaves, cool
The chicks in self-abandon run and play.
Some chase tiny bugs leaping from the grass.
Some climb on their mother’s sloppy back.
They enjoy the bright day’s cheer en masse.
On the other side, bunnies leap and hop,
In the hazy mist of the early morning light.
They nibble at fresh grass in the meadow.
Their sprightliness soaks my heart in delight.
.
My heartstrings are stretched out tight,
As pigeons coo and robins sing,
Adding a symphonic rhythm to the air,
By the avian ensemble of spring
I hear the whisper of fresh-grown leaves,
Interrupted by the sweet strains of a meadowlark.
On this lovely day, an urge to roam the countryside,
Is ignited deep in my heart as a blazing spark.
... The pen is mightier than the sword ...
The poet knight went off to war
To prove his valor true.
Sir Arthur Berk, the troubadour,
Knew he had much to do
For he had found a greater sword
To strike his foes down dead.
He swore to fight invading horde
And make their ink spill red.
Each lord, farm hand and tavern maid,
Had often heard him tell
The fierceness of his secret blade
And all the foes it fell.
Of dragons and of armies past
He'd read this weapon killed.
The legend of his sword was vast;
The ink would soon be spilled.
Soon rival horde had come again
All took up sword and shield.
The armies prepped for battle then
Were met upon the field.
They yelled and brandished spear and dirk
But soon were silent when
All held their breath to watch Sir Berk
As he unsheathed his ... pen?
He rushed in sure and unconcerned
But fell at the first blow,
And what new truth he might have learned
I guess we'll never know.
But if, perhaps, he'd been more keen
Sir Berk might still yet live;
Too late he learned the difference 'tween
Literal and Figurative.
9.13.18
Contest: Unsheathe Your Sword