Long Foray into Poems
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The Antics Of A Would Be Mama's Yoyo Thief
(now a penchant with less Zionist trenchant ululation to vent.)
Not a peep passed thru mine -
aye vaguely attest
what ten? eleven? twelve? age
of following anecdote at best
guest, but no
doubt yours truly
with figurative heart in chest
scared puny meek boy
tight lipped silently confessed
to foiled attempt, sans trying
unsuccessfully to steal a yoyo,
inviting tummy prepubescent
unbuttoning, a substantially
sprawling Holy skype sizing breast
of mine upon be nabbed,
thus aye didst detest
foolish kid ploy, and
(prematurely nipping
in the bud) messed
up potential life of crime
with first and only
shoplifting heist jest
for getting caught no a pest
key yoyo, mama would
(IF FOUND OUT)
axe me no quest
chin, but whack me itty bitty
teensy weensy derriere lest
quickly putting to rest
any Robin Hood
fantasy life of
high stakes crime pressed,
and squeezed out the noggin
with apropos punishment addressed
thankfully, neither parent
got wind, nor ever guessed
their beautiful darling
boy did test
petty theft, never
matured nor didst crest
into a profitable "yoyo
string Ponzi like
scheme," thus ballsiest
dare devilish and bitterest,
and laughably noble lest
act yours truly ever attempted
immediately ceased to shelve bravest
sleight of hand find
delve during broad est
daylight, I immediately
didst shelve, when clumsiest
initial foray into
the world wide web
tubby come cleverest
lad, this side of
Lansdale, Pennsylvania
many damnedest
yesterdays ago, never
took another earnest
tempting gamble since security
detail nearly wrest
head possible zapped feeblest Ames?
to pilfer from other
Department stores if pressed
for money no matter,
I might miss an enforced
hated ballet class,
with abs salute zest!
Continued one of the angelic aliens in earth’s close orbit,
‘Thus we’re given this task by our CEO at universe Milkit.
All you need to plant the flora umpteen
Until we create a fresh ozone layer clean
It takes for us a light year for sure.
Just stop all industries that are not pure.’
OMG I worried a lot
For I understood what a great havoc
We have done to this mother Earth
And its solar system trillions worth…7
A light year is what we need to revamp the Earth
It means we created in several dearth
Like water, food, and climate change
Well that cost to bring celestials to CEO arrange
Wake up my Earthlings it’s time to rebuild
Not just the Earth but solar system with guild
Green belt needs to be increased a lot
Besides stopping the factories impuring slot
Let’s stop vehicles on the road
Encourage carpool in load..8
Otherwise the nature will take its own course
Sending its CEOs to even the Earth I endorse
Let me remind you all the aliens are not humane
Some are violent and cruel inhumane
They may dismantle even Earth’s core
Bringing the upside down like lore
Before they foray into Close Earth’s Orbit
Let’s do refine our Earth to make it fit
Love our planet and pamper it much
As if we are going to die tomorrow such..9
Now our orbit is their new abode
If we don’t mend then they will be on road
To teach us a lesson out of box
In a different way I shout (not a hoax)
Future danger is not afar
Let’s save our system star
Follow all virtues and be a human being
Citizen of multiverse in a way amazing
Beware of a predator or an alien
With mysterious background and acumen
In the Close Earth Orbit
To make us perfectly fine and fit..!! ..10
This is my last foray into self expression
There are things that I don’t mention
But if you look closely
You will see that I am broken and lost
No matter when you see me
If I have a smile on my face
I am lying to you
I am in excruciating pain
What became of her
What has become of you
You are slowly slipping into the void
And you just don’t know what to do
There are days when you cannot wake
But the sun has risen above the hill outside your window
And you’re tired of this ordeal
There’s no reason to start the day
You miss the brilliance in her eyes
Which used to lead you through each hour
It pierced through your outer skin
And led to your inner tenderness
And now it is all gone
You can’t pull yourself up
You have been leveled by her leaving
And your maker has turned against you
She is the ghost that haunts you when you wake
The shadow that stalks your as you move through the city
And the one you long for your in your slumber
And separated by the stained glass at night
You can see her clearly when you shut your eyes
That day you were barefoot in the sand
At that Carolina beach in the twilight
Feeling whole, by the lifeguard stand
And her voice breathes in your ear
It has brought you to your knees
It shakes you at the core of who you are
You feel the gaze upon your eyes
And your imminent decent as she turns her back and walks away
It is now cold and silent here
You are truly alone in the haze of these days
It never played out like you planned
I wish to sleep forever
Where she will meet me in my dreams
Cause even if she won’t speak to me here
At least I can see her
Upon making
the treacherous
undertaking optimal
poetic theme to write
dangerous, and
arduous foray into
spooky catacomb, I in vite,
where fear doth
dill liver worst
trek to our mailbox tonight
risking life and limb
at very right
angled turn
summoning em mon ent
mettle pluck quite
for quotidian plight,
asper hiding unseen creatures
sealed in dark shadows
along the edge of night
way after deep
into nighttime hours,
I cautiously slink
with steely might
thru barely adequate light
even for this healthy
as an ox good knight
relying on a Jack o'lantern
designed jacklight
with superb vision,
and supreme insight
steadily held above
mine five feet and
ten inches average height
espy spilling thru underneath
securely eye
booked deal lee shut tight
locked heavy metal doors,
a faint glimmer
sans gaslight
possibly from blaring,
flashing, and placating
television screen se
essentially keeping curmudgeonly
aged residents company,
while reminiscent nostalgic
"FAKE" memories take flight
as such wistful
foregone reflections
upon the gift of
a watermelon pickle excite,
viz the cobwebbed
whirled wide
give "tearful", though
pained years gone by
blinkered back teary delight
a hermetically sealed story,
one will never
get ghost written, nor
affixed with a copyright
depressingly clamped
down inescapable
emotionally stagnating
autobiographical blight.
“Youth has no age.” – Pablo Picasso
As She Found A Way To Dearest Life Meet
As she woke, Light streams down
Dawn then spoke, Love your gown
Rise to day, its glory sweet
Find a way, to dear life meet.
As she rose, morn gave call
Her bare toes, long cold hall
So alive, Love asking more
Born to thrive, sumptuous score.
As her heart, beat in time
Day's start, her life sublime
Never late, Light's softest gleam
True her Fate, passion her dream.
As she sang, soul did rise
Music rang, no surprise
Red sun came, its glow so sweet
Love no game, its truth she greets.
As she knew, eyes were bright
Her Love grew, hours of night
When sleep came, Love its gifts gave
Sought no fame, his Love did save.
As she woke, Light streams down
Dawn then spoke, Love your gown
Rise to day, its glory sweet
Find a way, to dear life meet.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-11-2020
Rhyme, ( Basking Within The Light Of Truth And Love )
Syllables Per Line:
6 6 7 7 0 6 6 7 7 0 6 6 7 7 0 6 6 7 7 0 6 6 7 7 0 6 6 7 7
Total # Syllables:156
Total # Words::: 144
Note-
First stanza of this poem came to me
in a dream last night. I woke 1:42 am,
got up and jotted it down, then rose this morn
at 5:30 am to start to compose the rest of it.
I recall writing poems in the 6677 syllable form
back in 1972. Maybe a dozen or more poems.
Those poems were stolen and burned in 1975.
So this is a rebirth of a youthful foray into creating
a new form to play in.....
And yes, the "she" in the poem was a real person
that I once knew and once so truly and deeply loved...
Hope you may enjoy reading this new piece..
Am I a phenomenon of procreation, or an accident
Of birth? Arriving on my chariot of nativity I spent
Three trimesters in the sanctuary of a womb, and now
I am a child in this world of human.
But curiosity is plenty and questions arise, is my fate
Written or am I free to follow my own course on this
Journey through the enigma that is manhood, and as
My foray into maturity evolves
I find things that sweeten me, moments of childish
Enjoyment, the discovery of teenage bliss, and the
Times spent in twenty-something ecstasy, then came
The awaking of my soul,
And I find men immersed in the place of darkness where
Jealousy, greed, deceit and religious exploitation breed
Death of soul and conscience in a perverted sense of
Existence, as if by some rite of passage,
As some men live in fear of a never emerging tomorrow
Others strive to kept their dignity, but as I submit to the
Blows of fate I feel trapped in a destiny that is not my own,
Yet, as I embrace the moment I am free
As I segue through this state of being I contemplate my
Journey and come to a place of consciousness, in this
Instant of truth my fiat to live is unfolded in communion of
My heart and soul, and I hear music, and I am heavenly
So dance with me, through the rest of my being for the
Melody that is truly divine is you.
Earl S Jackson
April 5, 2011
Copyright © 2011 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Woke up this morning feeling fine,
looked in the mirror at this body of mine,
Said to myself, you're such a disgrace,
I can hardly bear to look you in the face.
Get out there, get some exercise,
Said I'm not fat, see, my shoes still fit.
OK I said, now joking apart
The bloke in the mirror is a sad old fart,
My trainers I found under the bed, on the floor,
The shorts had somehow shrunk in the drawer.
My vest, for the running, gave me no mirth,
Just about stretched round my widening girth.
Now dressed and ready, baseball cap on my pate,
With a determined look on my face, I got to the gate,
Had to rest and wait for my breath to abate,
Oh dear me ! I'm in such a state.
Start with a short walk I think that is best,
Anything more could mean cardiac arrest.
Just down to the square will do for today,
While the Taverna is shut, it's safer that way.
Three short hilly roads I had to traverse,
Now I have to go back, the same in reverse.
Easy downhill thought it was a doddle,
Harder going back as I started to waddle.
Out of breath, I had to stop and wait,
Again for my breathing to abate.
Onward and upward I said to myself,
You know this can only be good for your health.
Managed to get home and and hadn't expired
Sat on the porch, I perspired. So very tired.
But I did my first foray into this exercise plan,
I hope I can live to be a fitter old man.
© Dave Timperley 25 July 2018
Life is lived as a book, so I’m told
and we live out this story in chapters.
And we even write of the stories we’ve lived
and regale with tales of our adventures.
Our childhood is a myriad of stories
filling chapter and chapter with discovery,
wonder, angst, joy, everything in growing up.
Our teens are chapters of pain, confusion and
experimentation. Temptation. Rebellion and growth.
Young adulthood … ah, sweet love. Career, family.
First foray into independence and building a family.
Then chapters for kids, school, braces, college …
Then they grow up and move out. Weddings, grandkids
retirements and IRA’s. The book is expanding.
But this book is predictable. This is the Brady Bunch.
Where is the crisis, the divorce or the addiction?
Where is the mental illness or the adulterous affair?
Where is the poverty, the abuse, unknown calamity or death?
If life is truly a book, then we write our chapters as we go.
There is no cookie-cutter life to stamp out and imitate.
Life is fluid, moving, changing, consuming, powerful,
destructive in its unrelenting, impersonal path.
This is the end of this chaotic chapter, a fresh page awaits.
Too many of my chapters are chaotic and destructive.
While the next chapter can’t be written until it has been lived,
I will make it a chapter worth remembering.
One I will want to read again, and again.
You were in the rear view mirror of my life
That one chance encounter to last a lifetime
What a wonderful day it was
Frolicking about the pool two strangers in a foreign land
The ocean waves beckoning us to foray into unknown territory
Sea urchins, star fish, and shells waiting for us to join them in dance
The heat of the day matching the rising temperatures in my heart
Overhead the sun baking our skin like a toaster set on high
Glances were exchanged but only for a moment
For any lasting looks into those deep brown eyes and…
All clean fun our laughter speaking for itself
Until the setting sun and a waiting plane ticket ended it all
Back home my thoughts would return to that day and you
Though I knew the city you lived in I didn’t know your name
Or the street you resided on but the memories remained
Like a haunting which would not go away, a ghost only imagined
On that rare occasion passing through your town
A watchful eye for the woman who now held my heart hostage
But it was for not, the years multiplying like an adding machine
Days would fade into night but not thoughts of you
Of that moment in the sun when all felt perfect
And then…it happened
A twist of fate
A phone call from a friend
A dinner
A date
And everlasting love
Andreas Simic©
My whole life waits, just this moment, the ink still
wet; for sunrise this clear May morning.
My shaman up already,
hair askance, dancing and trilling his flute
to the crescent moon face,
lit by the blue iron square welcoming
the sun.
The Sun appears now...my expectations grow...
A foray into the secret riverbank forest, hunting
for Morels with my hobo friend ( by choice,
wishing not to support 4 ex-wives) Clark,
he with his walking stick adorned with colorful
talisman ribbons accumulated from a life spent
wandering....me with my crafted Yucca stick
a friend made for me.
Then...off to pick-up heirloom vegetable plants
a master gardener has nurtured for me to
grow in my community plot, where my friends
are happy to see me.
Amidst all, I'll have Ma accompany me,
(not in the woods) but not far away, her
smile always eager to share in my discoveries,
a comfortable sitting bench at the garden awaits
her, the smell of fresh-turned soil enriches her.
Later, I promised her we would grill at one
of her favorite places she remembers going
with Pop, alongside Minnehaha Creek, the
water gently flowing this time of year, birds
singing and Ducks playing,
The Sun is up further now,
this poem must end,
my destiny
awaits
5/2/15
7am