Long Soak up Poems
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When December drops its load,
as the season starts its march in spite,
I find myself enraptured
by the ice of time.
That was the time for loving,
as our hearts in bliss were plump and ripe,
and life was passed through the lens
of innocent smiles.
The time for strapping on boots,
as the frost released our minds from strife,
and it was nothing but fuel
for pure rejoicing.
That dazzling powder puffs dreams,
of a place where time stopped in spirit,
and signs of sentimental
giving floated free.
Today I’m here and flying
on the wings of the past and soak up
joy as before, but is there
more than just this rush?
After all, pleasure is here
but for a spell and the bell chimes loud
for reality to break
loose in our worn bones.
True, we often ignore plans
which have been spread out for us with care,
but lessons are treasured as
years of childhood prove.
And though we’re figments in dust,
death itself is trampled in its grave,
so pack your heart with this peace;
embrace time’s wisdom.
THE PROVIDENCE OF MANKIND
BEYOND THE NIGHTS THE DREAMS
OF PEOPLE WHO SEEK IN ADVENTURE
TO REDEFINE MINING OF ASTEROIDS
THEY SPOKE OF THE ONE:1?2 TON RATIO
WHERE ROCK LADEN WITH MAGNESITE TO
SOAK-UP CARBON MONOXIDE FROM
THE ATMOSHERE
SEQUESTERING STRATEGIES
THEY SOUGHT TO FIND TRUTH IN
POSITIONS WERE TRUTH
WAS FROM DATA THE UNTRUSTED
SCEINCE OF BEING FIRST
FROM SPACE THE ASTRONAUT SPOKE
AND SAID SUCH THEN MIGHT
VIOLATE THE TREATY CAUSING THOSE WHO
SIGNED THE TREATY TO
MAKE IT HARDER FOR US TO DO WHAT WE
NEED TO DO TO HAVETHESE THINGS DONE,
MEASURE PUT FOURTH AGAINST
SOMETHING THAT MIGHT
SAVE ALOT OF PEOPLE AND A WHOLE LOT
OF ANIMALS, EXSPECALLY THE
ONE'S WE EAT, THEY CALLED IT
CHEMICAL CAJOLING, USING MINERALS
TO SOAK-UP AIRBORN GAS
I grew up in a rural, seaside spot.
Where winters were cold, and summers were hot.
Spent sunny days on the riverbank fishing all day.
Until the bailiff came and chased us away.
We’d play games on the beach and soak up the sun.
Until strangers arrived and ended our fun.
They took over the beach and shooed us away.
And told us to find somewhere else to play.
More and more strangers arrived every year.
The farms were all built on as jobs disappeared.
The strangers kept coming and were happy to pay.
When our landlords sold out, we could no longer stay.
The place is now heaving on hot summer days.
The remaining few busy on minimum wage.
Priced out of the village where we had all grown.
A winter a ghost town, we once called home.
Our magical haven of tranquillity
Is now full of holiday homes and Airbnb’s.
The farm hands and fishermen no longer belong.
The strangers now own it and the locals have gone.
I watched the gentle waves lapping the shore
And taste the salty breeze from the ocean air
I saw seagulls flying horizontally without a care,
Spreading their wings in the calm atmosphere.
Politics powers reign and lovers claim romance
Parties began, and the united theme stood strong,
Crowds weave merrily in victory celebration dance
On land, demons ran until the spirit caught everyone.
Summer days filled with hazy languid sunny rays
Night retreat stay softly in the moonlight glades,
The heaven displays a theater of stars for our eyes,
Make grassy meadows appears like spikey blades.
Set the stage for the season of nature to mature,
And let out of cages the cocoon time to grow,
Harmoniously into happier moods of pleasure,
Brimming with gaiety, and abundant love to show.
When it's dark the heat goes where slumber snooze,
And search out of our dreams what reality withholds.
Until fantasy throws open the doors that were close,
To make summer days filled with memorable goals.
Beautiful kisses in the sublime recess of relaxing way,
from the ocean floor we make sandcastles on the shore,
Runners jog effortlessly in the generosity of the day
Embrace lazy heat and soak up the change of employer.
Summer days bloom with love that envisages adventure,
Laughter stays longer, and humor lingers fragrantly,
With smiles that turn heads and eyes hot as fire
Summer is a portrait of time to make people happy.
Brutal winds snap frozen branches,
no drowsy Tree Sparrows soak up sun rays;
I shiver wondering if they can survive...
somewhere huddled together to stay alive!
The Hudson River has the slowest flow in several years,
it struggles to reach the huge Atlantic Ocean that roars;
there all the boats are anchored while hungry seagulls
search the icy waves for a prey that fears their beaks!
Playful dolphins are seen often and amaze spectators,
hawks perch on red maples and birches unless it snows;
and watch them with killer eyes unable to defeat these creatures:
they should be happy to catch bluefish and river herring, not these!
Ebbs won't rise, as they do on moonlights, their surface is too bleak,
and the absence of a plenilune surely predicts their imminent doom;
there are six weeks to spring: isn't it the awaited relief we seek,
or the longing for flowing water and weeping willows to bloom?
The fire crackled and spat out embers
that gleamed brightly in the hearth.
Yet unattended they soon died away
to become dull grey ash particles.
Just like a fire need laying and tending
so too does love to help it strongly flourish.
Careful layering of dry tinder and
a few wisps of newspaper tightly curled.
Twigs and small branches added next
then a flame is held out until it ignites.
Take care to nourish your love
and show them sweet tenderness.
Gentle fanning growing more vigorous
as all starts to catch with a happy roar.
Feed it well and soak up its heat
and watch as shadows flicker on walls.
Bank it up well so it slowly smoulders
throughout the night. Fan the embers
and watch the flames slowly revive
just like love does when cared for.
Bask together in its glow
as it consumes and flourishes.
Filling you with love eternal
as you grow old together.
There are some things
deep in the well of my soul
hidden away to keep me whole
down in that unfathomable deep
the experiences that make my heart beat
the surface of the well I seek
soak up the suns warmth and heat
screened off from the light of day
the bottom made of mire and clay
the mortar of my bounds surround me
to keep from spilling all I be
so the surface of my sweet water
must be drawn up by some other
means than a cistern overflowing
swelled by rains and overgrowing
should you draw by pail this water
I would freely offer another
to fill you till your thirst be full
by life giving force from my pool
I am full of life's desires
that which gives growth
and contains the fires
for a simple purpose was I made
to quench a thirst and grow the shade
for the weary soul that passes by
and recognizes it is I
who draws the strength of the sun
to transfer to a living one
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Dawn of man
Out of the night came the dawn a mild breeze
blow petal off a rhododendron, a magic carpet
on a whitewashed wall sunlight and shadow dance.
The dogs were still asleep, the cock had not crewed
Quietness, except for an old man fearing his death
his solace is in the day.
A plane across the sky leaves behind tired dreams
of next year’s vacation.
Alfredo is up starting up his little tractor harvesting
carob beans before it get too hot; he used to have
a mule took a long time back then; the mules made
the landscape looks prettier.
I have been here a long time a tranquil bay far from the sea
leave to me soak up the peace before setting sail
for the timeless ocean.
Written: June 09, 2024 For Ink Empress Contest
“a mute tongue is a slave to silence” - Silent One
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let his eyes, his hug, and his grasp
convey what his mouth fears to say
His mother keeps an eye on her kid
In his first winter, he caught a lot of sun —
and watched the dust and air
Getting to the crib by horseback
Silence —
Through the susurrus sound stream
coruscating crimson spills subdue
whilst words whipped wassail
deep within a stymie pirouette
speaking in scarce slave silence
twisting mental sinews —
wrestle within a tight wooden link
In the recesses of a soft tongue
There is silence and no vitality
spewed utterances induce shame
letting souls bleed silently
Then, fear and doubt percolate.
Silence —
Endless streams of ingots land down
umpteen, rejuvenating, and dewy
signs of trust, optimism, and passion
Innuendo arty souls, albeit poetic syntax
hamstringing people with an arrow —
words convey verisimilitude vacuum
life thrives inside the one with insight
his devotion expands spreading apace
peaceful and fulfilling, ethical goals
erase worries, tears, and years.
Silence —
Lost in a celestial room, in a dream
flicker of fleeting rage
frightening fetching to fall in fetters
unexpected cacophony of sounds.
a wail escaped —
at the beckoning of serenity,
words gushed out forcefully
as if through a sluice
a stunning orchestral serve
was launched —
wonderful whirlpool
of seraphic wispy whims.
Silence —
He broke beyond obmutescence bounds
effortlessly eradicating despondency
and invigorating the once-quiet abyss
silence akin to a servant's shroud
have the courage to voice our opinions
exude confidence and vim
disrupt the enchantment
soak up the language —
let your tongue reflect and respond.
an inner whirlwind.
Silence —
Quiddity of nature resides within
the wreath of gloomy academia
such my final words, pulchritude
words with plumose wings
branch stretching —
whittle vine from the brittle barks
alpine brightness, as speckled embers
as pogonip laden its lair
moments before the kiss perches
snow covered it under Winter —
and forgetfulness blurs my dreams.
Silence —
The sun softly stirs the strawberry tree
Provokes a lovely green bird to hop out
They snuggle and fondle when the cocks croak
A young boy joins them in a smiling spree
A happy farmer throws up rings of smoke
‘Bill, come here’, came from mom a tender shout
‘Good morning’, said the white crest from the sea
The soft morning moves into a dense day
The sea starts conversation with the shores
The light brown wheat fields soak up some cool sun
Fishermen jostle for space at the quay
Traffic jam on narrow roads has begun
The mom is busy in her household chores
They have two kids and the third on the way
How magnificent is the setting sun
The happy bird hops back into its nest
Darkness falls and slowly mingles with light
Mom speaks to the guests at her house in turn
On Bill’s birthday the stars are shining bright
It is indeed a splendid fun food fest
I take a dark chocolate and a bun
Commotion fades making room for silence
In the wake of a bright star and the moon
The green bird chats with the sun in its dream
Bill looks up his grandpa in the lucence
His sister reads on how to become slim
The guard shuts the doors at The Pantaloons
The owl is busy in a conference
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