Long Propinquity Poems
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In idle, I am prone to the unintentional siren
yet with obligation, I can pretentiously delude
concealing the apprehension... and the desire
Remarkably discernible from a mere moment glimpse
in her ivory mask with tinges of light rose
looming unmistakably regardless how afar
Yet, I keep my distance; becoming too nervous
propinquity may induce "Untamed Attraction"
in defiance of the restraint that I impose
Amongst the mundane, I unwillingly exclude
in fear of displacing the facade over this ruse
all to hide my veracity from ridicule
Is it in timidity that I indulge this notion?
Incapable to go beyond being elusively platonic;
in favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon?
...
Alas, I bury any sentiment as a mere fantasy
to haunt me within my dreams; as I lay vulnerable.
In favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon.
Written on 02/26/2017
The propinquity of the golden sun
to the ocean of blue is like liquid
butter upon pancakes, and love homespun
Velvet dreams of autumn sunsets limpid
Sunsets' variety of colors bold
Draw many people to slow and pause
Then marvel at the beauty to behold
Let our autumn be worthy of applause
A brillant sunset beaming through dark clouds
A radiant light to lead lost weary souls
to a golden sunset of which to be proud.
Let past be released to cleansed future console
Velvet dreams of autumn sunsets limpid
Fulfill those clear, bright dreams none that's insipid
Finis'
Propinquity__Nearness in place;proximity
Limpid_Clear and bright or transmitting light
Insipid_Lacking interest, lacking taste or pertaining to food lacking flavor
You can
drive your whole life
not look upon the face
of harbingers in spring wet earth.
Remembering the ephemeral warm
Mediterranean summers
clean Petrich or fresh rain
bucolic life
setting.
Yielding
a nostalgic
propinquity city's
efflorescence dress brick building.
The epiphany of an old church as
it sings the echoes of erstwhile.
Redolent warm feeling
Victorian
versed homes.
Yester
years fine brushstrokes.
Trees towering on the
outskirts of the demesne beauty
Unique, intertwined dalliance with the
farmed and the wild a wonderful
serendipity finds
quiet hunger
of life.
3/31/2016
The city's two-block business district consists of the original brick buildings built in the 1880s and 1890s
I use to work in the Oakland School. They have left the very small town the same, it's like walking into the past. It lays in a valley surrounded by mountains. A very old silo still stands where they use to burn the woodchips. Very beautiful old town.
From sunrise in the morning, to sunset at night,
concerning knowledge, I have an insatiable appetite.
For the body and soul, there is ambrosia in a bowl.
Generous servings have me attaining my goal.
Progressive thought, both systematic and arbitrary,
have all of my faculties in solidarity.
I must not succumb to facts with mawkishness.
Tediousness can lead one to soporific listlessness.
I can attain truth and success through perseverance.
The key to the lock is maintaining diligence.
All that is illuminated, I can see through open eyes.
Only with alert consciousness for living can I realize,
I am in propinquity to attaining life’s ultimate prize.
Here are four survivors of a rocket that had crashed.
For a great distance, they had walked through rain that had splashed
so long, and so hard, that everything was turning white.
The downpour continued steadily through day and night.
“Does it ever stop raining on Venus?” one could ask.
A journey through the planet’s ceaseless rain is a task.
It requires the strongest earthmen to endure the rain;
a challenging test to withstand frustration and pain.
Venusian jungles are thick with vegetation.
Survival is usually of short duration.
The torrential downpour cuts through the trees and the land.
It is steady and so strong. A man can hardly stand.
It’s continual pelting of raindrops on his head.
It does not take long before most men wish they were dead.
On this planet, there is one thing that they would call home.
It is a round, yellow building known as a “sun dome”.
Inside, there’s a man-made plasma giving light and heat;
where it is dry and comfortable, with food to eat.
Thirty days and nights had passed since their space ship was downed.
They blindly tread through the rain until a dome was found.
However, inside, it was dark and cold with no sound.
Gashed holes in the ceiling proved there was no one around
Venusians attacked here and killed everybody.
These creatures were infamous for their savagery.
On the map, another dome was shown to be nearby.
Only a few kilometers away, it would lie.
They would leave in search of the next dome they hoped was near.
Their compass readings were off; their position not clear.
Suddenly, their ship with two dead crewmen would appear.
They had traveled in a circle, causing them great fear.
A dark, ominous, electrical cloud they would see,
spewing thousands of lightning bolts, a monstrosity.
This caused their compasses to show inaccuracy.
The group’s leader yelled “Everybody get down right now”,
but one man stayed up and tried to run away somehow.
He was struck by the lightning, and was burned quite badly.
Remains of this man were charred beyond identity.
The raging storm cost the crew another casualty.
The three remaining men continued on their journey,
blindly hoping a sun dome was in propinquity.
Based on the short story "The Long Rain" by Ray Bradbury
A Part of the Past Frozen in Time
You can
drive your whole life
not look upon the face
of harbingers in spring wet earth
Remembering the ephemeral warm
Mediterranean summers
clean petrichor fresh rain
bucolic life
setting
Yielding
a nostalgic
propinquity city's
efflorescence dress brick buildings
The epiphany of an old church as
it sings the echoes of erstwhile
Redolent warm feeling
Victorian
versed homes
Yester
years fine brushstrokes
Trees towering on the
outskirts of the demesne beauty
Unique, intertwined dalliance with the
farmed and the wild a wonderful
serendipity find
quiet hunger
of life
Copyright © Eve Roper 3/31/2016
Written: January 07, 2024
_________________________________________
eyes are soul gates even in disguise they do not lie
visual cues that transcend verbal expression
but it also shares one's mood with lenticular opiates
spanning an effluvium-trail-laden sky
select a person and share eye contact while whimpering
gaze might betray a false grin quoth-trust aegis
stupendous azure eyes! aggregations of night elixir
spellbind the world with an aura of simmering
wispy pearls in her eyes—soul rises without adronitis
I cross cosmic cloisters and Eden's bright bower
I grip men truths in their odd dismal ways
the sheer number of words is overwhelming
once cupid arrows hit a cosmic glow covers the world
glorious as sharpness of your sight and dawn dew
her azure eyes purify and calm me as oceanic waves
no drift inbred ocean fowls flutter feel felicity
ethereal eyes whisper to my soul sparkling with glee
pristine eyes hypnosis a wish for propinquity shine
as the sun rises shards of light reveal her eyes
dreams sap my mind cocoons and eyes beguile me
after inhaling and kissing goldenly—all else is plain
all the grace I skipped—in the sun wind and rain
as dew at dawn chatoyant eyes embrace you
butterfly-like in gestalt despite a sanguine heartbeat
those eyes are as sibilant as the rising sun
they send doves soaring and senses roaring
some eyes are drenched in love until they sparkle
delphic soul shy—untamed my love never defamed
grateful for blue skies—for all—and blue eyes for you
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie faire, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
Yours truly not necessarily romantic at heart
more accurately methinks myself
lame and inadequate sorry excuse
for reasonably rhyming spouse,
but courtesy after sipping
(née - chugging away
like snorting caboose)
Welch's sparkling white grape juice
accompanied with entree couscous
generic and garden variety
run of the mill by the floss husband
ordinarily fancy free and footloose
feigned being inebriated
noisily squawking - imitating
deafening honking lunging goose
creating ruckus whereby resultant outcome,
whereby wife playfully threatened me
to hang me (all choking aside) with noose,
(I needed to gibbet a chance)
as ye can accurately dead deuce
nearly turning unnatural shade of chartreuse,
thus I immediately called truce
after hiring team of animated experts
Rocky the squirrel
and Bullwinkle the moose.
Ring with no feather in my cap only envy
at handsome man drakes with bucks,
who could bank on "hot chicks" willingly
aligned in arrow emitting clucks
fluffing their respective tail feathers amidst
loud squawking out quacking,
yet straight as an arrow nock king,
establishing pecking order like ducks,
or any other foxy fowl billetted
within walled din noisy hen house
preening, each be solder self flux
sing wings and waddling, flirting, casting...
webbed wide good lucks
Written: February 11, 2024
______________________________________
Features: fugacious fascinating beat
I saw smoke, but no flames in sight
I caught a cynosure of elusive heed
Fourteen redolent rifts were recorded
Oddly scripted, akin to grain ears
or stalks of rhubarbs in diaphanous vibes
Love came, wrapped in dulcet skin
Upon palms with comely lines, ceased.
A seraglio within a flesh
Where a vase holds a full moon
And a drape of hues: tan, blue, and gray.
Pink echoes linger in the same vase
As drove of doves drifting down an abyss
I hit a home run with white silk rope wings
And forefeel fountains flowing freely
where my dreams are the hue of spring
In a diamond outfit, I'll reach paradise
Slowly, I caress the lavish swirl of phloxes
Adopt time to hear your dizzy murmurs.
Why is it love-shaped if it's not mine? You query
A vast stretch of soil shrouded in mist
Dawn rises from its decor of the virgin sky.
My love for you remains unwavering
Love is trapped on a limb, suspended in the air
Whether stored with mustard or soy
or fragments of an unfinished haiku
The heart of love calls for a spry stir
by milk-stained palms and sour cream
A heart so grand, burdened by weariness.
Today dawns with a pristine sky
For the scenery and the stream
slashing across ropes of sapphire
A blend of cyan and white.
I discovered this to be accurate
To love is to shatter the gates of heaven
Stripping a night star from its vastness
Only to put it in a desolate roof garden
even if it blossoms for a single night
Only to perish the following dawn
My shears sprang to life, ready to trim
I may have loved the size of the cosmos,
In a fleeting point, unguarded and sublime.
Enamel strings and skeins entwined
In love, everything seems ostentatious
Words extravagantly rhymed, flowing lyrics
Crafted in vibrant shades of captivating art.
(not really, but just wanted
to get your attention.)
Thus "NOT FAKE," but
poetic quasi true anecdote
infused fictionalized
by this ole goat
with prevarication
to enliven of no note
characteristic, and certainly
not worth quote
ting - for any future
reference material, imp poet
tent to sketch a biography
of one otherwise tote
tem mick drab existence,
that happens
moost would vote
as exhibiting blank pages,
which means no ghost
for me life story needed since
no words needing tubby wrote.
thus the crux of foraging
into how the missus
snorts in her sonorous way
the one repetitive sleepy tune,
that doth not
warrant a veejay,
nor and thespian to reenact
a zonked out spouse from
exercising at the
Y.M.C.A. today,
but each increment of time
imposes additional wear
and tear on the body electric,
thus no place...(except...
Swiss Side or
Willoughby), to runaway
from senescence process
so one must savor
to the maximum propinquity
of each moment
analogous as if one received
money for their
existence as being payday
before day of reckoning,
which could occur any
minute, hour, second...
with no noway
opportune time will
provide any leeway,
especially for those
ping folks immediately
at ground zero, where
husband or wife
kept awake from partner
mercilessly growling drones
hell bent on then simply jay
ping, when agent provocateur
awakens only to find
themselves bound and gagged
unable to attend the
Scottish celebration of hogmanay.