Long Mustering Poems
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Seasonal HARVEST OF LOVE:
Dry August and an abundant harvest,
fattened the cows, not to mention me.
September's mustering clouds
and cool winds rustled my mind in preparation.
October leaves rattling in the winds,
astounding breaths of life,
these colorful trees of fall
through my window kept me in awe.
Quickly, time started stealing,
shortening days to keep me on my toes.
Wandering through the light snow covered fields,
the morning's hoar frost shivered me and my icy fingers.
December blizzards and mountains of powder
wrapped me in a blanket with a steaming cup of tea,
seated by my window,
as it continued to amaze me.
March thaws and wet days promised the strength of the coming year,
but matters not what it say,
I will sow again,
praying for yet another dry abundant harvest of love.
9/25/2015 © Al Juman The "said" poet
Type In (Al. Juman) For A relaxing and astonishing moment with all my POEMS
In skies of gray I dwell
inside of clouds,
keeping company with mugginess
and sweltering heat.
People who labor underneath me
perspire profusely; some curse.
Others pray for me
to cut their labor short.
Yes, they pray for rain.
I hear their cries,
for I’ve been mustering steam
during days and days of dreadful drought.
Pitter patter pitter patter
Their plaintive pleas I answer teasingly.
Starting slow. I dole out droplets
drop by drop by tiny drop
The droplets increase . . . plop plop plop.
Wind joins in - wailing.
Trees tremble as I splatter them
with wonderful wetness for the prayerful.
Swoosh! Ker-plunk!
I’m drumming and drumming,
pouring myself down
on thirsting flowers with heads bowed
to reverently receive me.
Umbrellas appear all over the streets.
Gleefully, I pound them, hammering away.
I pounce on the heads of uncovered people.
Soaking grass and soil,
filling rain gutters, and
sliding joyously off many hard surfaces,
I saturate every place that I’m able to outside.
I am rain, and unceasingly
this summer day,
I reign
supreme.
Who ever invented French Kissing?
Certainly, it’s nothing to be missing!
Open mouth – let alone
Other mouth – duplicate clone!
Two open-mouths lock so close
Lip-to-lip and beak-to-beak like two crows!
One tongue encircles the other
Round and slow, hearts churn butter!
Wet and slithering saliva swap
Heaping exchanges in drooling glops!
Taste the gallons or taste the drops
As heart beats race and minds all flop!
No…No…Whether gallons or droplets of drips
I’m certainly NOT missing saliva sips!
The pecking quick peck
Of a Woodpecker’s peck
I’m certain won’t make me gag nor sick!
Keep it clean…Keep it gentle
The Woodpecker’s peck is more sentimental.
Like two young “kinders” on Valentine’s Day
When simple cards are handed away
And both are bashful and way too shy
Mustering every courage to bypass both their “Shutterflies”
And the card is quickly handed with a quick closed-peck
One-second peck causes no harm, no foul, or even wreck!
Cute and quick
is the Woodpecker’s Peck
Such sensational expression of innocence exchanged between two
Our Heavenly Father may better approve
Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn write (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and
tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances
found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled virgin
love whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,
whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft (nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yields scant
satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer could solve,
where living off the grid could remedy
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.
Envy the green eyed monster
can be harnessed to achieve a goal
I currently have a want for fitness
it's eluded while my life was on hold
So I am mustering up my health
and working on my stamina
And feeding up my ego
because in the end its chutzpah thats its anima
You have to attack with vigor
and have a plan you adjust along the way
You have to be single minded
and self congratulate to make it stay
For envy does not really serve
and it can actually deflate your cause
Because you don't ask for advice
and align with those who have achieved what you want
For those that have blazed those trails
can tell you their recipe
It may be the thing you can exactly do
or it may be an energetic zing
But use your emotional energy
to fuel your restless tide
And keep an open mind
and move ahead with pride
Turn Envy the Green Eyed Monster to you can do this!! You can! - Artimus (C) Susan Manley 3/11/24 8:43AM
He sat beside her in the park bench,
On a beautiful balmy morning,
Breezy and pleasant after a drizzle;
Birds came out of their temporary shelters,
And chirped and chattered and whistled.
A pair of butterflies in a tree nearby,
Fluttered their pink and purple wings in joy,
And danced around each other: a moment
So perfect, he assumed, to propose to her!
She sat gazing at the distant gulmohar,
He took her hand mustering courage
To face her bold and beautiful face;
Then he muttered, stuttered, and finally uttered:
"Will you be with me forever?!"
09-29-2020
'MAX 14 lines Poem-Inspired Prompt' Contest
by Line Gauthier
Second Place
As I see your name flashing on my phone,
my heart beats faster.
I can feel those enchanting eyes
looking at me intrigued.
Flustering like a gilded spring sunflower,
my shaking fingers pick up the phone.
your voice rings like an angel
music humming in my mind.
I speak without knowing what I'm saying,..
I want to keep listening , as you keep talking,
I sweat in your scent spreading within me.
A cheereful façade of fluttering butterflies
it's not a crush, I want to name it love
An eternal fire, in film songs, I have only heard of.
I wait for an excuse to phone you back..
mustering a frantic courage,.. I lack.
Till then I keep you safe in my dreams...
No longer excited, feeling of deja vu,
where clichéd I can say, " I always love you."
Date written 26th April 2019
Contest-I am crushing on you
Sponsor -Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Attending a Greyhound Dog race
Blowing dust in my face
Placing a bet
Hoping no regret
The race was about to start
Soon it will be a race of determination as a depart
The gates will soon hound’s maneuver
It will be swift and quick
Chasing an electronic rabbit encouraging them on
Those Hound’s never catch
They are kicking up dust in the wind
The speed using their legs
Every ounce of endurance
The Hound’s going around bends with assurance
Mustering who is the winner to be
Keen eyes like an eagle and wise like an owl
The race will soon come to an end
The victor will be announced
The last stretch
The winner is “BOUNTY”
Best of the best
Champion in cheers
Won my bet
Right choice having no regret.
"He won the war outside but lost the battle within"
_____________________________________________________
Criticism after criticisms were hurled at me,
I bore it all silently,
I cried endlessly...
One day I suddenly realised,
to take care of my body was my duty.
with this thought I became a warrior.
Next time they criticized,
I shouted back,
all my thoughts I shot at them.
What you are doing is not right!
Stop it outright!
Henceforth I will not keep quiet!
Everyone became quite, scared of me.
They gave it every day but when it came to them,
they couldn't handle criticism!
I fought like a warrior mustering all my courage,
it was not easy but I gained victory!
Since that day they were careful,
their criticisms were minimal,
even that were answered back politely,
I didn't cry unnecessarily.
But my conscience kept pricking me,
I was hurting them!
I was sinning!
I had become bad.!
I changed again.
To fight or not is an eternal dilemma,
it has no solution.
Where once verdant rolling highlands...
Spanned into infinite vista
far as these myopic eyes can see
now yellowing Whitmanesque
leaves of grass encompass field of vision.
Nary a dark dreadnaught cloud in sight,
nor unbeknownst if/when threatening storm
looms on horizon slaking parched land
delivering precipitation quenching thirsty terra firma.
I too experience vicarious dehydration
during bonafide dry spell
constituting theoretical string
hoop fully curtails weather beaten
flora and fauna
conceding blindingly bright
cloudless summer days
across disc (sky)
to amply liquidate shriveling assets.
Unbeknownst when spate of rainlessness,
(i.e. I pray for moderate soaking precipitation)
thwarting immediate indications
meteorologically signalling onset
regarding definition of drought.
Nothing more humbling
than cacophonous thunderstorm
nsync with jagged bolts of lightning
accompanying drenching downpour
analogous to downed wall of water
cascading from upper atmosphere
intermittently pelting landscape
albeit immediately, magically, quixotically...
transforming parched land (Highland Manor)
into profuse lusciousness
harkening Edenic denouement.
Impossible mission (this simple bumpkin)
(one local Schwenksville yokel)
(Civil War union soldier incarnate)
to forecast today/tonight
eventide of June twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty,
when Zeus will doctor
animals and plants courtesy
of requisite life source
also known as H2O,
comprising above mentioned
two hydrogen atoms
and one oxygen atom.
Ironic, how approximately
three quarters (seventy five sense)
engulfs planet Earth,
yet many environments
suffer inadequate deluges,
more so now with climate change
(global warming) increasing temperature
across oblate spheroid
compromising habitable places,
yet methinks coronavirus (COVID-19)
gave mother nature
much needed reprieve
cleansing heavily polluted urban areas
courtesy partial lockdown and restraint,
whereby *****sapiens
deterred, jackknifed, prohibited...
spewing noxious forth fossil fuel byproducts
encouraging, mustering,
plying, telecommuting, zooming
avast array of activities
augmented by virtual reality
technology supplanting mass transit,
thus diminishing deadly toxins
absorbed by all creatures
great and small.