Long Qwerty Poems

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Anticlimactic Mood After February 18th 2021 Snow Storm Subsided

Anticlimactic mood after February 18th, 2021 snow storm subsided

I hate spoiler alert
regarding weather forecasters prediction,
especially when meteorologist
wannabe spouse doth blurt
out impending blizzard
which never materializes.

Yours truly humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter
looses propensity to wreak havoc
and/or blankets landscape
I fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.

At that time January 1996
me and the missus timesharing
Shawnee on the Delaware
ardently striving, yet
unsuccessful conceiving Blizzard Baby.

Now far beyond procreative age,
(though I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.

Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.

Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
ready able and willing
to doze immediately into deep slumber.

Hungry stomach in tandem
with eventful weather
sends surge of giddiness
coursing thru body electric
crackling, popping, and snapping
(while O Captain My Captain)
came to witty man (me) suddenly
enervating with poignant pregnant expectancy
papa pondering his empty nest syndrome
analogously attempting to offset void

coaxing poem into existence
unsure how literary endeavor
(mine) will thrive
amidst well suited
panoply of prolific writers,
whose unseen fingers
hop lightly and gracefully
across qwerty computer keyboard
akin to heavy armed soldiers
with fearlessness and deliberation
heading off to war to acquire poetic license.

Meanwhile chafed knuckles
of one garden variety primate
previously scraping along tundra
(methinks I espy frozen Mastodon)
(before twenty first century caveman
learned to stand erect)
endeavors to strike letter combinations
eliciting, facilitating, and generating
enticing curb appeal.


hinterlands of thee netherlands

alternately titles: I got noose for you,
Yours truly doth garrotte tee
another itsy bitsy, 
betsy wetsy easy breezy read.

oft times ('specially 
these latter unsainted days and nights) 
in white satin:
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking 
in the twitching mind kampf
paradigm of this atheist 
hence, he betook himself 
to this MacBook Pro, 
while swiss side dull ideations 

for professional intercession, could not wait
asper affecting cathartic, 
purgative, harmonic tête-à-tête
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office 
and let fingers 
(of left hand) do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard 

allowing, enabling, and 
at the quickest typing rate
striving to captcha dismal, gloomy, 
and ill lust tree us 
deplorable mood aye equate
with pitching into 
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO – 
a last repast 
the grim reaper did orchestrate

gluten free, an extra heavy dose 
of monosodium glutamate, 
which ingredient doth 
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need n re:coe fermi to rush, 
where angels fear 
to tread, cuz but better Nate
than lever, the apothegm, 
credo, ethos...Kate
(the caterer maintains 

an open exit from life, 
and cares only 
that each soul doth feel elan, 
joie de vivre, and psalm times 
a leaping lemur chants, ecstatically finally 
gustatory humming don't jubilate 
for your final homecoming, or else 
the mailer daemon lived 
a devilish dervish life will instigate
de coup age d'etat, but such extreme 

measure for measure heed doth hate
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for 
golden age opportunity 
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease, 
when ashes master 
of hell raising 
unpleasant circumstances twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.

A Matter of Creativity

Capital letter …

Right now, please note: it is time to dust, not write.

Dust was eating away this besieged body;
Amassing with all the misery that delights in ambush.
It crept into secret crevices,
Quietly dulling senses, as it blended in;
Softly choking, mimicking flu,
Before weaving a blanket so thick
It embraced and insulated;
Gently burying body under the weight of
An elephantine duvet with speaking tongues.

Write now, right now that house pride has succumbed to ash
As caked and empty cans and bottles decorate.
The dustman hurried by the empty drum
For rubbish barricaded the front door.

The inconvenience: to eat, drink, shop, to pay bills
Without leaving one’s desk these days.
Friends and adversaries seep out of pens,
Alphabetically springing to colourful life.
Who dares miss a thought so precious, so elusive –
Might never occur again.

So grasp it, rack it; right, left lobe battle dire emotions and reason.
Let dust prevent thoughts from leaving from whence it came.
Incarcerate all grey matters. 
Now one can write how it feels to have dust as qwerty companion.
Then fling open the door,
Let light and the world in.
Shout: “I write because I can.”  
Full stop … Exclamation mark!
End.

(PS: begin again.)

Traversing Cyberspace Hinterland

Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.

All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.

Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,

while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads

to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –

a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late

than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate

a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
Form: Rhyme

The Discontented Decade

Dustmen were dirty
Shoes had holes
Typewriters qwerty
Clothes were old
School was tough, kids were rough
Summers were always, quite cold

Three-day week
No power at night
Week after week another union strike
Nothing to do, so early to bed
Wake the next day to no loaves of bread

No central heating
Winters were freezing
No phone tweeting
Less coughing and sneezing
TV was great, watching films late
The Friday night Hammer, the best to see

British bulldog we played,
as gangs in the street
The shop round the corner,
had all the best sweets
And despite everything, when all’s said and done
The discontented decade was still lots of fun!
Form: Rhyme


Hinterlands of Thee Netherlands

oft times ('specially 
   these latter un-sainted days and nights) 
   death doth haunt me zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
 
   crowds out purposeful thinking  
   in the twitching mind kempf
   paradigm of this atheist 
hence, he betook himself 
   to this MacBook Pro, 

   while swiss side dull ideations 
   for professional intercession, could not wait
   asper affecting s cathartic, 
   emetic, harmonic tete a tete

and providing a meaningful surrogate
   to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office 
   and let fingers (of left hand) do talking heads

   to an imaginary therapist
   across this qwerty keyboard 
   allowing, enabling, and  
   at the quickest typing rate

striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy, 
   and ill lust tree us deplorable mood aye e quate
with pitching into a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
 
   a last repast the grim reaper did orchestrate
   gluten free, an extra heavy dose 
   of monosodium gluti Nate 
which ingredient doth BuzzFeed thine appetite
 
   for total mortal exter minate
'thou no need fermi to rush, 
   where angels fear to tread, cuz but better late
than never, the apothegm, credo, ethos...Kate

(the caterer maintains an open exit from life, 
   and cares only that each soul doth feel elan, 
   joi de vivre, and psalm times 
   a leaper chants, ecstatically finally 

   gustatory humming dont jubilate 
for your final homecoming, or else 
   the mailer daemon lived 
   a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat, but such extreme 

   measure for measure heed doth hate
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for 
   golden opportunity 

   to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease, 
   when ashes master 
   of hell raising circumstances twill use as bait
let underground missionary be my advocate.
Form:

Premium Member The Digital Tide

"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."
Quote by Thomas Watson, IBM chairman, 1943


Through the QWERTY maze fingers travel afar
discover where virtual worlds are,
but a digital divide
locations denied.
Modern day
tide,
such dismay
for those left aside.
This is happening worldwide
but we must neither exclude nor bar.
Through the QWERTY maze fingers travel afar.
_____________________________________
18 January 2023


First Place, Writing Challenge - Andaree Form, sponsored by Constance La France
Checked against Syllable Counter and RhymeZone
Form: Rhyme

Circadian Rhythm Flux Shoe Waits

(alter knit lee titled: vita in oculis nudato)

goo goo gaga I wanna yell
cuz, synonymous 
     with other wordsmiths, 
     or...well
whatever will eire'n burr, 

     a sought after creative 
     passionate pursuit aye tell 
ye a boot me own aha...eureka insightful 
     revelation explaining 
     ma quotidian writing spell,

and phalanges skitter 
     across qwerty keyboard 
     at light in an attempt to quell
onslaught tidal wave crashing 

     upon me conscious state pell mell 
which tsunami flood spongy 
     heady gray matter with hell
over high tide heals assailing, 

     bruiting, clobbering this fell
low inducing (me) to play 
     Handel's Semantic Water Music 
     on the smallish piccolo cello

which Sirens of Tighten, 
     (who just appeared out of thin aire - 
     cuz scriveners can resort 
     to prestidigitation to make appear

any necessary entity 
     without rhyme or reason), 
     anyway, this sylph sea Oceanids nymph 
     i.e. mermaids didst dee clear
 
particularly via 
     barely audible verbal communication 
     sotto voce en dear
ring gently beckoning 
     affinity this modest heir

to secret himself within secluded lair
whence, an automatic 
     erectile flickr, kickstarted, 
     levitated, and manifested

an instantaneous jubilant kik 
     lobbed me near
this seductive, sedulous, and sedum 
     scented sir experienced hypnotic stare

charming froto into trance scandent state
as if by magic the tubular 
     testicular proboscis didst inflate 
aptly serving as modus operandi flagellate
thus proving a "happy ending" against being celibate.

Premium Member Typewriter

Papers and ribbon bang on the floor
The onion scent of white turning into coal,
Smudges of lines trail into her veins
Punching QWERTY keys on a chrome machine
Under a lamp light soft as the pink moon;
The screech of blotted pages dangle through rollers
Waiting for her eyes to speak through hands.
There lay the mumbled words curling up
On a teak chair like nocturnal lyrics
hauling raw drafts slowly glowing
Into fresh contemplation, and the melt
Of coffee stains drips on edges as she
Folds  another ream of leaves along bars,
Riddled with ticktocks of a sleepless night.
Then, fresh linings of thoughts bark at the winds
While her lips drench inks of cappuccino
Moistened among burning stars.





259   Contest

The Haar's Breeze

Quyted (to depart from) your arms is an urge I have held on to
Qwerty language got me typing away with you for no clue (reason)
Quenched in your disqualifying love affair 
Tired of being your nightmare twyer and your dream catcher afire
Tripping out because I puffed on my drug of desire - the cigarette of regret and its outrageous results
Trapezoids get paranoid at the sight of your circular ways...triangle angles has shaped your geometrical appearance, your  symmetrical awareness 
I d-don't mean t-to intrude your without-a-trace personal space
Intrigued to see you have moved on with your life's really rapid race
I don't think perfectionists are normal...nor are pacifists to battle friend grounds, going up and down a bomb-packed wall
Damaged drastically by your dismay days and its highest degrees...lowering my confidence levels inedibly 
Do note this - I love your hatred and you hate my love 
Dandelions grow where my lily pads float and it doesn't make any logical sense at all...so I hand you a bouquet of stars and forget-me-nots and forgive-me-pleases 
Empathic emperors are crowned as clever Kings in my town of undefeated honor and elegant dignity 
Empower me with the Haar's breeze for the time being and squander our time like children, chasing around each other at the park and playing following the leader...
Empty your pockets of moonjoy and let it sprinkle upon me spacious, splendid sunrises and I'll be the leader and you the follower this time forth and forevermore 
And I utter risk-taking words of bipolar weather (emotions and the changing effects)
Alienated ambition strikes me on stage with brave potentials and talents alike that is the opposite of stage fright altogether 
Adorn me with blissful blessings that are of the highest quality and will make all crowds tremor with respectful fear 
Rouge roses you tossed at my timid tombstone (doing away with shyness)...now I'm bleeding out Crimson, a vermillion vengefulness you spat at me 
Remitting relief grief upon me, the Haar's blasted breeze oh so wretched breeze once at ease...Dona Nobis Pachem please...
Form: Verse

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