Long Fledgling Poems
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Even if yours truly could repeat every grade...
Without fail, I would flunk preschool
farcical scenario aside
truthfully, metaphorically, emphatically
resigned to life as replayed
male live violent scullery maid
forced to spend existence locked
within veritable grotesque
dragon filled dungeon paid
existential dues many times over
horrible nightmarish masquerade
eternal punishment cruel fate
refuses to trade
redemption condemning freedom to fade
prefiguring edge of night
mental dark shadows shade
purposefulness reduced trite
poetry without reasonable rhyme
sole recourse to vent bitter tirade
black bile coursing thru
at woebegone permanently delayed
jollity sabotaged travesty
utter ignominious parade,
no surprise violent rage
bubbles up inside decayed
corporeal flesh, where psyche slayed
fledgling inchoate willpower
self destructive courtesy inherited
ignoble misdeeds displayed
havoc struck in utero a frayed
fetus, where mutated
deoxynucleic acid double helix played
out flawed biological blueprint
fetish, obsession, and zealot
regarding straggly tangled mane
salt and pepper grayed
quiescent, indifferent, and ambivalent
once upon a time
flirted deadly escapade
sought out anorexia nervosa
frankly zapped, starved, and
deprived critical decade
destructive, imperative, and operative
diabolical, inimical, and maniacal aide
de camp conspiring, kickstarting,
snapchatting umbilical cord strangling
again allegorical besieging enfilade
machine gunning, fueling,
and endowing tirade
erupted earlier today – 4:00 A.M.
spouse, racket she made
November 25th, 2019 waylaid
ordinary placid quiescent ruminative...
state, whereat as iterated I conveyed
or tried to elaborate intense anguish
thorny debacle arose
filleted here at Grosse and Quade
owned Schwenksville property.
Rising from the fire like a phoenix,
hot cinders morph into crimson darts.
And shadows roam the fringes of light,
extinguishing any fledgling sparks.
Scarlet splashes amidst molten flames,
wherein, cerise and chartreuse cascades.
And all eyes follow the rhythmic flow:
as its hypnotic beauty pervades.
Bursts of laughter and bravado bond
in the scary tales that haunt the night.
And camaraderie can be felt
amongst everyone huddled up tight.
Tranquility's intoxicating:
pacifying your nerves with its peace.
And it feels like genuine magic,
when worries and anxieties cease.
The brotherhood around the campfire,
is ignited by flickering flames.
And fragile friendships are reforged,
free from frustration and power games.
A small whine in my ear.
“Let me see. What have we here?”
A new little monster with a pinched red face;
Whose caterwauls usurp my place?
“I wish. I wish.” I’d opened wide,
My fledgling arms, let go my pride.
My favorite dresses, my new toy,
My Daddies lap, my mother’s joy;
Curly blonde bundle so unlike me;
Everything mine was given to she.
“Sweet little villain or Little Nell?”
“Who was the monster? Only God can tell."
So long, it took for love to grow,
Between the monsters two egos.
“I wish. I wish.” I’d opened wide,
My fledgling arms, let go my pride.
So long, you snuggled at my side,
Looked up to me let meanness slide.
So long, we suffered, women we;
In a masculine shadow, a manly lea.
Monsters two, linked arms and hands,
Against the villainous male; we’d stand.
Against the NEW pinched-faced wail,
The long awaited hierarchical male.
“I wish. I wish.” I’d opened wide,
My fledgling arms, let go my pride.
He took the toys, the time, the rides.
He took our parents from our side.
And yet, as time and tide did pass;
We three did come to see, at last.
To wish, to wish and open wide;
To let go the anger, let go the pride.
To know each monster has it day,
And every child a price to pay.
And so, each parent’s task is vast;
To create a family that will last.
Wisdom is garnered from time,
yet patience is new to youth.
And juvenile emotions;
seek flattery, more than truth.
Passions flounder, as hopes drown
on shallow shoals of remorse.
For navigating through lies,
Love begins to drift off course.
Feeling lost and unwanted,
you miss youth's laughter and fun.
And devastating your heart,
trust fades, until there is none.
You feel fledgling feelings flex
wings of hope: despite despair.
For, although intangible,
true love is beyond compare.
The fabric of love is an
intricate, delicate weave.
And like any miracle,
all it asks is you believe.
A kinder, more loving soul doesn't exist,
you're an Angel, sent from heaven above.
You captured my heart the first time we kissed,
and I immediately fell in love.
You saw in me what others could not see,
and encouraged me to believe in hope.
I was a puzzle with a missing piece,
and I needed that piece to complete me.
Before I met you, I could barely cope,
and at times, my soul yearned for its release.
I adore your contagious laugh, your smile,
your tender touch, and your passionate kiss.
As a living poem penned in freestyle,
you imbue life with happiness and bliss.
Poets say beauty is only skin deep,
but that is not true when it comes to you.
You possess a beautiful soul inside,
and it's enough to make a grown man weep.
Truth is your arrow, and your aim is true,
uplifting my spirit; you boost my pride.
Your love encourages my soul to soar:
to take wing like a fledgling bird, and fly.
You're everything I could ever wish for,
and my feelings for you will never die.
Our eternal souls were forged into one,
and were bonded by love since time began.
You are my soulmate, the yin to my yang,
my candle in the dark; bright as the sun.
Unleashing love as a part of God's plan,
love always comes back: like a boomerang.
Love can feel like an uphill race,
yet, win or lose, you can't abstain.
And only time can ease the hurt
of a heart hollowed out by pain.
Fledgling wings clipped by betrayal
can't take off in pursuit of truth.
And every cut gets less discreet,
as they harden the hearts of youth.
When reality gets revealed,
Hope defends the lies love clings to.
And as happiness disappears,
life seems surreal and untrue.
Tears hide behind a mask of smiles,
concealing the pain you're feeling.
And yet, you feel devastated,
for broken hearts require healing.
Tempted by sexual urges,
innocence lost its purity.
And so, in this uncaring world,
your dreams die in obscurity.
Stealth hid in the corners of its soul
Patiently sowing its addictive seeds
Planting doubt in its many meanings
Each word a temporary assuagement
Its necessity cursed by its impermanence
And thus, the pen faltered in fledgling flight
Hesitations scribbles circling a meaning
The imposter, perfection, tapping its foot
Strewing the mind with contradictions canny
Thoughts tied to chairs refusing to confess
Neither AI or Spelchek will save you
For you do not throw snowballs you did not make
For you have scooped the words, compressed them
Rounded and smoothed them to perfection
And now….must hurl them
…at an unsuspecting world
Dear Fellow Soupers, I see why the Chef doesn't like the Library I have to leave now but I will be back tomorrow and finish my Soup Mailing. For those of YOU who are waiting for a Soup Mail I will tell You the purpose of the mail (I will still Soup Mail You)
Quote from the Chef - "I am not walking around with tubes up my nose and a mask on my face" My request is for Harry's Family- Poetry Soup to make him promise to use his Portable Oxygen Tank. Chef is assuming I will not run to the doctors and tell them he is not using it He may be right If he asks me to write to any of the responses Positively I know Harry won't break his word to his Family Respectfully Yours, Kenny A Fledgling Poet
Form:
When the leaf falls from a dying tree
in the brisk autumn breeze,
It seems to sprout wings
like a fledgling that spreads its wings
and sets off from its nest to explore
the wide expanse of the free skies.
Riding a roller-coaster ride along
with the free-spirited wind,
the leaf wings its way through
the fields and the plains to find
a safe haven to ride out the winter.
~Contest: "Feel Free Poetry
~Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
(7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, Their only chance to soar.” Owens, Dalia. Where the Crawdads Sing,
Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (P. 124)
How bird-like a new fetus is,
like a chick in an egg,
the delicate spine curved,
all the fine bones promissory wish-bones
tucked into s floating nest.
Unseen embryonic pathways
are not yet cleared, diverse divisions
are still dividing. Genetics uncertain
for an interval, a pause.
In the blood bound sac
a reptilian blastula
breaks through to be human,
a primordial development
reenacted as a timeless secret.
As a young child
I really thought I was Superman.
I would jump off ever higher elevations
arms outstretched
until at last I broke my legs.
Reality was my kryptonite.
Yet like a fledgling
I was just readying myself for flight.
My mothers womb was closed tight
within it still the residue of broken wings;
they would have to be expelled
before I could be forever grounded.
Songbirds now come to my bird table.
I listen to their chipping beaks as they
crack seeds.
None stay long for fear of the circling hawks,
yet they sing on the wing,
to me, they seem to warble triumphantly
of eggs hatched and eggs
unhatched.