Long Metaphorical Poems
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I Theme To List Toward Secular Humanism ©ø¥
Mine excel leant
powerfully pointed
nonestablishmentarian
outlook accesses
prolix laced threads, whereat
aye weave with zeal
spinning, sans metaphorical
loom min esse
cent invisible wheel
finagling, incorporating, and lurching
sesquipedalian ward webbing,
sans existential warp and weft
asthma trademark seal
begetting poetic offspring
for no rhyme, nor
reason and less real
than an actual progeny,
(das papa percolates,
per predilection toward prolix)
as poor substitute
to apply seminal seal
if only...grace with
a younger fecund wife,
where becoming
pregnant would ap peal
and be chronologically viable
plus said mother
hood ambition would,
(asper this
hypothetical scenario)
might warrant me to inculcate,
and if necessary
take a knee to kneel
yet stopping short
of any Machiavellian
(cut throat...er rather
umbilical cord) tactics to activate
no explanation why
hankering to create
additional "NO FAKE"
fallacy aye in inflate
cuz, nothing compares
to sire (with love)
heir or Harris heiress,
and coveting father hood again
a son or daughter
even though pushing late
fifties, which age finds me
to instagram, shutterfly,
or snapchat with disbelief
aware that divulgence to experience
such poignant pang mate
be attributed to absence
of mine deux darling daughters
ah...juiced a small
pipe (petty filed)
whet dream wracking ma pate
no great expectations
by dick ends
for any physically
intimate tete a tete
thus assimilate call
of the wild crafting writings
with my huff firm mitt heave
gen till loin that doth undulate.
Salvation
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you believe in absorbing esoteric supernatural impressions
To clear your pathways
Of all mental or traumatic depression's
To then walk down life's metaphysical runways
Like a young Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel or an inspired
Paul Poiret
If so
Because I believe
In you
Always be optimistic and open to being positive when exploring newer experiences
For true belief
Lies in the right mindset in all you do
To transform your soul into your best version of a sage or mystic
Allowing you to chase stars and wild Middle Earth dreams
To bind old mistakes and fears
To white metaphorical feathers
To throw them into the healing fires within your mind
For their old powers over you
In the unconscious rising smoke retire
As you learn which new bridges to cross
And which old bridges to burn
For sacred self-knowledge and empowerment is ubiquitous
A chimera
A conjunction of wild beasts
Roaming wild
Living life through
Eight letters called Salvation
Which to the child of the Revived
Like you
Cannot never ever be denied
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Childhood is a ship,
preparing to set sail,
but not all harbors are kind
the ocean a mysterious enigma.
Not all inflictions are visible,
some bruises remain invisible.
Not all trauma can be expressed,
so the past is buried - still breathing.
Ghosts resurface, with subtlest of hints.
When we are born,
we are 'freshly decorated' boats.
Preparing to set sail through unknown waters,
longing to venture to foreign shores.
Yet, what is hidden underneath deep ripples,
is not innocent, like my childhood heart -
powerless, helpless, defenseless.
An anthology of a villain and his victims
Sins of my father,
once plagued my mother's tears.
Her anchor became a burden of heavy fears,
so drought, dehydrated her river bed.
To escape constant waves of rage,
my mind set sail to seek safer shores.
On my boat, I was my own captain.
Steps of thunder,
followed me through turbulent tides,
yet, spirit found courage to row faster -
to this day, I've never known how.
Maybe, I could not let his blood define me.
I watched, in horror, as his terror,
drowned my petrified siblings -
I wonder, why they did not sail away,
were their anchors, consumed with reality?
When words struck like metaphorical daggers,
sirens of the sea, serenaded with songs of sorrow.
But, my soul knew the sun would offer redemption -
finally unchain me from the darkness of adolescence.
Through passages of life,
what was once a boat in troublesome times,
is now a ship, settled on stable seas.
Example for Inflictions contest.
Silent One
8 August 2020
Star-Gate is illusive, as Genesis is evasive
EL-OH-AOW-ARE-U, can this be true...
"first human words"
In Earth's beginning, we begat to know, *WHOM*
was this keeper of our Star-Gate...
who then is WHOM? perhaps this answer lies
deep within a Tomb...
Einstein only lost his scientific atmospheric papers, this
has pushed us far apart, it would appear, while
(This is True}
Ivis Cartisha Archeologist provides a New Start
his trained-eye is caught by another tablet of
Hieroglyphics,*OUR FIRST WORDS* from our Heart
man uttered... Ra-M-ss also Th-Uth-M-s!
(This first word is Ramss, his beloved King)
Metaphor:
Through our Star-Gate blacken hue, our Black
moon... blocks your View...
your science takes you past our Sun, this is...
not Bright my Son's...
Star-Gate may be found off their opposite direction
that dark-side of your Sphere, it has no reflection
We are *WHOM* you seek, from your start, Why...
look in sun 'Bright space' when you depart...
pointing you over here WOW through...
Our metaphorical Star-Gate, Rates!.
By George P. Lumayag
https://georgelumayag.weebly.com/
During the exploration period,
Treasures were the biggest routes of great explorers.
And, now, a treasure is the reason
Why I speak before you, Sharlaine on your debut.
It’s my pleasure to speak about treasures
That I wish you may have for a lifetime.
I have offered you a metaphorical jewelry box and a jar
For you to keep all your treasures.
Be open-minded, be compassionate, and loving
‘coz treasures are not only precious stones.
Try to consider good words
and sweet memories are also your timeless treasures.
You should share to all that such lofty reasons reside
To their minds, hearts and souls!
Happy 18th Birthday, Sharlaine!
Sometimes my soul
resembles distant horizons,
like burning stars
abandoned between
dusk and dawn.
When the
sky hangs
as heavy as
my hazy heart,
I search for a sign
from heaven
to soothe
the somber sequences
of nature blanketing
mountains of misery,
as the spectrum of
colors is full of deception.
Maybe the universe
illustrates splitting
sunsets within
my murky thoughts,
As I'm oblivious to
the rhythm of
riveting songs of spring.
I sing
tunes of autumn,
orchestrated in
black and white,
grey refrains remain
locked as an encrypted
mystery of winter land,
within
esoteric hieroglyphics
blowing as
tornadoes of hurt.
I am envious of the
sound of comforting rain,
and clouds
carrying chaos-
weeping reveries of angst.
But what if these
translucent tears
and the anxiety I
try to hide,
fall like
mists of
haunting memories,
to follow the moon-glade,
ruffling along
sterling ripples,
unravelling
jasmine compassion
across rivers of
scattered gems,
would I then feel
the light of love,
synchronize
a eucalyptus lullaby
that sketches
amethyst amulets
through
midnight fears,
to embrace these
fragile dandelion wishes,
behind metaphorical
fields of periwinkle flowers.
My dreams are fading,
whilst darkness whirls
in unending circles.
I am barely breathing,
as the silhouette of
a pale sapphire
shatters into a
sea of sadness.
For you have
cast a shadow
upon the sun
within my mind,
and all that's left
in this eclipsed realm
is the petrichor scent
of healing,
amidst
the dying petals
in my balcony,
that mimic flames of
life and betrayals.
Maybe, it is from
the aftermath of storms,
we flourish rainbow
roses soaked
in redolent incense-
roaming through
an opaque canvas of clarity.
Commencement writing this poem
began December 24th: 08:04:03 PM
ended December 24th: 09:23:17 PM.
Soon Auld Lang Syne
sung bidding goodbye
adieu two thousand nineteen
uttered from every gal and guy
transfixing living mortals
with good cheer well nigh,
while awesome pyrotechnics
light up night sky.
All across world wide web
hope springs eternal
rocking and rolling creatures
woke out their hibernal
phase, where new year
rings optimism jockeys
to thwart diabolical, infernal
offal, venal... bare beer bellies
race with full bladders
elbowing way to nearest urinal.
Infinitesimal metaphorical eye blink
yet,... utopian wishes
transcending personal resolutions,
while champagne glasses clink
booze legitimated, liberated
to quaff another drink
who knows mankind, and
all species may become extinct
climate change if anthropomorphized...,
a party spoiler rat fink
aye bet same phenomena,
that also caused human missing link
wild hypothesis, I admit
yours truly did misthink
merely speculating as
fingers spuriously plink
MacBook keyboard
upon completion, I will uplink
rhyme without reason,
than succumb to zeeland,
where dreams conjured courtesy
rapid eye movement lidded wink.
Though veritable stranger
to thee dear reader,
I read dull admit,
nonetheless hope ya summon true grit
threading thru maze of life adhering
to credos, dogma, ethics... mostly legit
yet take to the activist streets
if necessary and ABSOLUTELY vote
if prior to election day,
ye complete eighteenth orbit
cuz, commander in chief,
he will not concede nor quit
power monger loathe
to relinquish presidency
grounding country into
Grade A s*¡t
(use your imagination, and
sure call this mister a twit.
All joking aside,
yours truly wishes ye well
write and share, cuz
no doubt you got lots to tell
plus the writing process
cathartic, fantastic, therapeutic
to express concerns, emotions,
far out predictions... eke quell
or greater than mine,
an ordinary garden variety fell
ho...ho...ho... within Schwenksville I dwell.
Circus Life
Inside, it smells like death and pain.
And two beasts guard
the heart of my brain.
Puzzles and pieces
scatter from the hilt.
My spine breaks under
this mountain of guilt.
Colors and feelings
are nothing compared to
believing
The awful stench
inside my head.
Bleeding with ink
and clouded with dread.
Beast number one rears its ugly head
and says my dear, what do you most dread?
Well, that's metaphorical
and certainly quite volatile.
But let me sit and think.
I suppose, she replies, that what causes that stink
is my brain one day
running out of ink.
Beast number one
guards feelings and reelings
Beast number one roars
Day after day, guards cycles
and riffles.
But beast number one, to me
he just says
'These thoughts, they are
just all in your head.'
Beast number two,
well, she is rather blue.
About all this pain,
you see, she has it too,
and above all she is
most difficult to tame.
But each day from her head
Reels the stuff that she dreads,
And lands in my heart, each day, it can't start.
But each day, it's the same.
But past all the beasts
And tricks and applause;
Sneak under this tent,
and do mind the claws.
All mirrors obstruct her
from the crowd.
So she sees all her flaws
and her thoughts are so loud.
Too loud for the number one
circus attraction.
Step up, step two, gents,
she loves the attention.
Watch her preen and
watch her prance.
My dears, lead her
in this next dance.
Her mind is far gone
so she is your pawn
to do with whatever you please.
But inside, she roars
And she fights and she pleads
For her mind to stop spinning
so loud at the beginning
And she tries too hard to fly
Away from this mess,
away from distress.
The funeral beds
are laced with her dread
and she wonders just when
she might die.
So she creeps from the tent
and she blinks in the sun.
And she sees people round her
preying off her for fun.
But free, she can never be.
For her mind is where
she seems to be
Till her very last dying breath.
Only she will be the master
of her own death.
Friday the thirteenth, (September
tooth house hind nineteen)
dark shadows winessed scads of bats
(base sic cully lobbing soupy Matzo balls)
eyeing yours truly as seldom seen
human sacrificial cuisine,
which dime a dozen story true story
red within tabloid National Enquirer 'zine.
Minus blood sucking mammals more averse
than bill collectors or insurance companies
bared fangs greeted yours truly courtesy
of bloodthirsty nurse
triggering instantaneous qualm
ordinarily, I dune hot feel averse
nor nain availing one arm or the other,
wherein needle tip doth stick
prominent vein, yet an idling hearse
unwittingly induced heightened alarm,
on flip Wilson side... sense and sensibility
awoke regarding no impact upon purse
anyway death could never as worse
compared to hand to mouth
dirty deeds done... dirt poor curse.
A deep inhalation induced relaxed state
courtesy ujjayi breath
filled lungs to alleviate
(yea right slim/fat chance analogous
to one sniveling, mutering, groveling...
writer wannabe called upon to curate)
quirky rhyming scribblings
attempting to pass muster
easily, joyfully, worthily...
declared poet laureate
hence hastily erected castle
in the sky fate
meeting divine heavenly lorded
tailor tete a tete
gradually alleviated helter skelter
mental condition within pate
experienced sudden calm
displaced initial panic, thus great
ecstasy donned "FAKE" trumpeting guise
knowing within short shrift
death would assimilate
me, while providing fancy feast
where Desmodontinae
would undulate
this vampire weekend,
aware I prevaricate
and horrible anecdote purely
meant to demonstrate
how believability easily
wrought to fascinate
(ha) captive audience,
he/she exhibiting skeptical trait
might doubt claim (mine), who as inmate
within human zoo forced to risk death
defying daredevil metier height
figurative tightrope walker I gyrate
balanced on iambic foot in toto
all the while able to coordinate
vaguely flowing continuity
eventually metaphorical
erythrocytes coagulate.
Just for the sake of saying "hello"
Courtesy garden variety/generic common Joe
who strives to achieve becoming
(even posthumously)
an esteemed writer likened to outstanding poe
whit – perhaps illusions
of grandeur must be reined in
courtesy horse sense and Whoa!
A short time ago today
(the ides of March 2021)
upon returning from nearest LIDL
(located at 1831 E Ridge Pike,
Royersford, Pennsylvania 19468
Latitude: 40.1845 Longitude: -75.5360),
I realized too late the opportunity
to exchange pleasant greetings
with another resident (a young man,
who shares a similar physique
to yours truly).
Preoccupied removing comestibles -
predominantly nine plastic
gallon jugs of distilled water
(tightly packed within large suitcase,
which luggage formerly
belonged to Boyce Harris - papa)
the notion occurred
(ex post facto).
Cursory aforementioned observation,
(viz forfeited interpersonal opportunity)
unexpectedly impetus awoke
regarding said unnamed bloke
(who I've seen scant
number of times before)
friendly exchange thus didst evoke
idea to craft poem,
cuz pleasant demeanor
generates figurative chain reaction
livingsocial among other
(mostly elderly) folk
here at Highland Manor
this credo to befriend others I invoke
(by Dickens) with little
or no great expectations
motivates me to risk
playing game of life no joke,
but good humor a masterstroke,
one generic American notes tis oak
kay for yours truly not to poke
intrusively, (albeit rudely
he thinks) and possibly also stoke
antipathy by ignoring
formalities of pleasantness
in either case saddle and yoke
me with unflattering
nom de plume.
Additionally I will allow
enable, and provide tolerance
if recipient of mine genuine
companionable intent
declines overture as potential
future bosom buddy
and/or sounding board,
plus will defend self
against blistering, excoriating, scathing...
metaphorical nonetheless hurtful assaults
against mine brow
will not figurative undermine
paltry self esteem, but endow
redoubled effort to risk
making acquaintance(s) and consort
with persons who cross my path
their nose in the air
trumpeting arrogance and how
never be deterred toward livingsocial
such personal promise I vow.