Long Dabbles Poems
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As Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink,
Spring dabbles in assorted pastel shades.
When April rains offer the soil a drink,
water trickles as it flows and cascades.
Spring dabbles in assorted pastel shades,
purple crocus, and yellow daffodils.
Water trickles as it flows and cascades,
and green grass colors the valleys and hills.
Purple crocus and yellow daffodils,
pushing through the soil, summoned by the sun.
And green grass colors the valleys and hills,
for Winter lies defeated; Spring has won.
Pushing through the soil, summoned by the sun,
wildflower blooms carpet the forest floor.
For Winter lies defeated; Spring has won,
and Nature rearranges the decor.
Wildflower blooms carpet the forest floor
when April rains offer the soil a drink.
And Nature rearranges the decor
as Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink.
(Pantoum)
05/12/2022
A RHYMING PANTOUM OF FIVE STANZAS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Upon reflecting with misty eyes
childhood days of yore
the mantle of anticipatory
excitement mantle I wore
upon advent of December
twenty fifth not quite threescore
years ago knew nothing
about being dirt poor
yours truly doggedly felt sense
of belonging among k9 korp
versus moody blues hangdog
look resembling Eeyore.
Now fast forward envisioning
gray bewhiskered scraggly
muttering old Unitarian
that would be yours truly courtesy
hyperbole as would be obvious
upon quick visual scan,
who dabbles writing
at least one poem within
twenty four hour
time frame i.e. quotidian
basis, eh not
so much an outdoorsman
these days and definitely not,
nor ever trumpeted
taps as militiaman
within the ranks of Kublai Khan
emperor of China, and
grandson of Genghis Khan
I remain holed up within
one bedroom apartment
unit b44 as iceman,
no, not by choice,
but series of unfortunate events
primarily faulty heater
at the mercy of fate,
a mere dice toss gameplan
always associated as separate
among establishmentarian
forever dreamily fancying
married to countrywoman,
combination platter academician.
Lo and behold days
mein kampf slipped and slid away
leaving faded memories
precious young lad oft times
felt alienated (think) castaway
yet simultaneously unable to flyaway
loosing self from mother's apron strings,
while slipping grip signals foray
into abyss conjured courtesy
thru information superhighway.
Reflection upon tempus fugit
incredulous kick **** lightspeed
precocious age sentimental reverie storybook
happy go lucky idyllic past indeed,
then bound by ignorance,
hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.
it's kind of funny
how time walks away
i don't feel like
saying grace today
everything hurts
much more then they say
tuesdays no longer
remember your smile
scars are the souvenirs
of the loneliest child
the memory itself
writes you away
i don't wanna be here anymore
my hearts felt the dust
no i don't wanna be here anymore
sail on sooth sayer, sail
it's like sometimes you can't win
but then again i feel like
i could never really fail
through the mirror
i image an image pale
restricted for commerce
like a prostitute
trying to make the proper sell
here we are behold unearthed
true to the soul,
spirit, body and mind
it's kind of crazy
how you can capture more momentum
starting up from the bottom
being beaten and coming up
from the land down under
may the perpetrators be kissed briefly
slaughtered later
love letters from a bastard
to kind of a raped mother
grab the extinction cord
i already duck taped the other
the youngest of nine children
last man standing
out in the wonderland withering
see the ocean set apart from the sea
relax the your head darling
and come hither
i don't wanna be here anymore
my hearts felt the dust
no i don't wanna be here anymore
sail on sooth sayer, sail
she said
i don't understand
your goodbye
questions,
all these questions
why, why, oh why
I told her i said,
every thing's rhetorical
despite you and I
stars burn
in the sleepless sky
as the candles dim
and night falls alive
between you and I
and it shines so bright
that i can't see a thing
but sometimes
i see it all
i've been used
to losing touch
but i'm kind of wish
too far gone
a shooting star
one miracle away
from being
exactly who you are
the rain dabbles
in the face of the sun
and sometimes life
is all heat and no fun
but sometimes
you have to say goodbye
to where you're coming from
and kindly walk away
to a better day
and just like that
she went into the dark
she sang out,
i got seizures to spark
and true life
it's some kind of bizarre
she put the needle in her arm
and sang out
never mind who you are
never mind who your are
I don't give a Fck who you are
Form:
MIRAGE
Life is such stuff as dreams are made of.
Living the Oliver Twist is never enough
And will forever play the gluttony
Even in the midst of it tempest or harmony
It will always tower above the cloud-capped towers,
Under the severe winter blessings that showers
Where humans fail to notice the signpost instructions
Never ever to take Mister Mirage serious
Else he terminates your hope & dabbles your perception,
Cos sometimes you don't find in the eye life's construction,
Like men full of valour that smooth the air
As if their imaginary faithful house wives were there
Because they are red-hot and drown in tonic's...
Not feeling any ambivalence towards life's treacherous tricks
And stride on life's weakened paths in folly
But I beseech you, tread holy and softly
So that the weak-eyed mole may not hear a footing
Like men on the sand with printless foot mutely competing
For nature's reward or divine dependable blessings
Irrespective of their lame hands and settled sins.
On the construction of the hands heaven looks down
But only on earthly Spirited dust drop a blessed crown.
Let us not burden our weary remembrance on and on
With a heaviness and forsaken habits that should be gone
But know in time, that pitfall is just a stepping stone
Into a world where great men hold their own.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2013.
This woodland stream could be a small English river,
it dibbles and dabbles, it meanders, and has the air
of an old water way, one that never saw the need
to rush or gush.
The small ripples pace themselves; a sepia rivulet
that tugs at a nutrient silt, carrying it down gently
to green pastures.
In autumn the fallen leaves add ocher flotillas
that sail into valley mists, never to return.
April showers refresh the brook,
it waltzes between tufted hillocks,
glides almost giddily between sky and earth.
If the path of the water flow has a name
it is known only to grazing cattle,
that drink of it,
and the meadow lark
that hovers high above the little beck
to sing of its native wandering ways.
*Image of Hope Member Feeling by Pixabay
AUDIO: Nuthin But A G Thang by Dr Dre & Snoop Dog
Hope
It begins
from depths within
unmeasurable plunging phantoms down
festerin' the grounds
Lingerin' up sounds
trace
sin
space
sing
Astir the Astros
call on the cosmos play-sures
endeavors
Psyche
assimilators consciousness
dabbles
Wake the dreamers
the unreal
the liars
The dream team
zookeepers senses that
it sucks as it pants in
suspense feeling
the zeal for
realism
Tangibles
hand-all with care
The Dreamer
Ahh! Wakes up now to form
just a tad late yet find I
brave and craving
Echoes from a conch shell
sounds of the see
voice articulates
to be alert and
reassert
Reach for the stars
else, no heaven be
simply permeate
and then create
the essence
It's dope when
one invokes!
HOPE ...
Loves and losses
revives
relived
rejoice.
2022 February 02
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND INFORMEL
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 14
THEORIES OF LOVE
WORDS SPOKEN BY LOVERS
AGREEMENTS AND FAITHS
LOVERS PARTAKE IN
WHILE AND APRT
STILL, THAT THESE WORDS
HOLD EACH OTHER ACCOUNTABLE
TO CERTAIN PRIVILEGES AND UNDERSTANDINGS
CERTAIN THINGS TO BRING ABOUT SEPARATION
THAT THEY SEE FIT TO CERTAIN RIGHTS
THAT THESE PRIVILEGES
ARE RIGHT IN THE EYES OF
THOSE WHO SEE THEM AS TOGETHER
THAT THIS TRUST IS SACRED
IN THE EYES OF GOD AND MAN
THOSE WHO INTERFERE IN THESE AFFAIRS
ARE SPOKEN OF AS OUTSIDERS AND METTLERS
THOSE WHO WISH TO DESTROY THE TRUST
TAKEN ON BY THESE TWO INDIVIDUALS
WHAT IS SPOKEN AS LOVE MIGHT MEAN THIS
WHAT EVOLVES INTO DISTRUST MAY COME FROM
SUCH ACTIONS
THEY MIGHT AND MAY BE VIOLATIONS OF
SUCH SAID TOGETHERNESS
A harsh mistress to face each night,
reality dabbles in pain.
And at the very edge of fright,
you enter the Devil's domain.
Innocence morphs into a game
in a naive search for a friend.
And you've only yourself to blame
if there's no winner at the end.
Fantasies and wishes fool you
into thinking love's on its way.
Yet, you're feeling lonely and blue,
for smiles seldom come into play.
Love is an elusive feeling
that's skilled at hiding in plain sight.
And though it oft sets hearts reeling,
it can disappear overnight.
Have to admit.. do have a bit
Of a trenchant penchant
Alright adore southpaw purveyors
Dabbles..pique aroused..rabbles in the stands roused
Unique sleek cheek of their chic espoused
Bowlers...reduced to trollopes
Us seduced by players with not
Just a dash of flash panache
But hefty lefty dollops
Innings built by the lilt of lyrical levers which tilt to the hilt
Lush lullaby scores..lapping sandy shores with endless encores
Who’s get the ring or Tiara as
Greatest Caribbean queen ever been seen..
(sorry notions of one of Billy Ocean's top pop potions)
Most blessed and least stressed..every ball caressed and finessed
Also always impeccably dressed…the Calypso
Maestro…lothario…romeo…guru…Brian Charles Lara
First one since the Don to go so much bigger
Score..such vim on a whim…verve and vigour
Doing what only Bradman can but with
More touch..canny elan trigger than rigour
Frightening elite feet..like lightning
Remember in his pomp the 1994 romp
First class farce..501 not out rout..never been out done
Then in 2004.. did it once more..set the new top score
He’s Kane and Abel…top of the table fable for sure
All time prime sublime number one?
From the land of the other hand
Can anyone outgun or out ton?
Travesty to shun..majesty
Artistry of the Lara tapestry
What he brought to the sport
Memories never wane
Prince of the Port of Spain
SHATTERED SCREAMS
ECHOES OF OUR SILENT SCREAM,
TORTURE FROM A LEADER'S STEAM,
DWINDLING OF OUR NATIONS DREAM.
WE CHOOSE TO FIGHT AS A TEAM,
OR WATCH THEIR THEATRICS LIKE A FILM.
IF WE FIGHT, OUR VOCIFEROUS WEAPON IS HUSHED,
IF SILENT, OUR FUTURE IS CRUSHED.
TOLLGATE IS NOW THE BLOOD GATE,
WHERE HEROS OF JUSTICE LEARN THEIR FATE.
OUR VOICES ARE STRANGLED,
WE'RE MANHANDLED LIKE A STAR SPANGLED.
THE PILLARS OF OUR STRUCTURE IS FALLING.
WHO HURTS HIS CHILD AND FLOGS HER FOR WAILING?
RELEASING THE CAMOS, WOLFS IN DIRTY SHEEP'S CLOTHINGS
AND BLACKMARIAL TO HUNT DOWN CITIZENS.
INTERNAL TERROR SUMS UP MY ANALYSIS.
NIGERIA, YOUR ACTS DABBLES & DAGGERS MY HEART.
WHERE IS THE LABOUR OF OUR HEROS PAST?
OUR RESIDUE IS IN THE DEN OF THIEVES,
AND THE OLD CERTAINTY OF THE FUTURE HAVE BECOME MERE "IFs".
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Copyright© 14th Feb, 2021.