a pebble
d
r
o
p
s
into
the crystal-clear mirror
of nature....
gone
after a sudden disruption.
the surface of the stream
reveals
an unspoken wish.
a circle
w i d e n s,
e x p a n d i n g
as though bursting
into flames,
pressing against
the quietness
of the water's surface,
the water holds
whispering
of unwhisperable secrets.
without a tempo
leading its way
without a beat
to command it.
lily pads d r i f t
over the stream
shadows reflecting
the movement of a clear day.
no track to follow,
no reason or why.
outwardly,
and outwardly,
the edge of stream
grows thin,
the starting point
where the line
originally started,
a pulse and silence...
as the water
recedes from sight,
a ripple
with no rhythm
being engulfed
in the darkness.
Death be violent, death be dark.
Death be silent, death be stark.
Death be doomly, death be knell.
Death be deadly, death be hell.
It ain’t the mystery that I be fearing,
but the certainty and the nearing.
I gazed at the tree’s bare stem
alone at the end of the street.
It had aged but appeared
as a twig to me.
Alone, I thought.
an apparition
but I’d seen it before.
In place it stood where it
bore the sun, the wind
rain and snow every year.
Never quite dead
but I could not call it alive.
Burdened with a bag
of rolled up newspapers
I labored, doing what I could do
after I losing a job.
I’d grown to love the neighborhood
blocks staked out for development
when I stayed with my parents
just after college. They passed.
My chest ached and feet hurt
and I wondered how many times
I died, and how many times
I lived. Spring a poetic leap
but now long days of summer
wore upon me. I took a turn as I must
and saw line upon line of houses
that sprouted from wild grasses
and remnants of a farm
lands known when I was young.
Selfish young youth has brightly beamed faces
And beautiful gleaming gold hair as loose lace is,
Like balmy books with pale prefaces
Its intrinsic inceptive and prompt paces,
Soon, sad torrid time replaces
The sunny sparkle with gentler graces
And young youth with those tacit troughed ages.
cellar door afar
cellar door ajar
amber discovered
candle uncovered
cellar door afar
cellar door ajar
candle discovered
amber light hovered
cellar door ajar
cellar door afar
amber light covered
candle smoke hovered
BRAIN FLOW
Dark clouds moving on;
Winds of wisdom are blowing:
Well-breezed mind, soaring:-
Contest Name: 1501 Sept 2026 part 4x4'
Sponsor Brian Strand
******************************************
How I hunger for the connection
that I always break
or fail to make.
Its absence is an emptiness
invading my personal space.
Deafening silence rings my ears
and making my head throb and ache.
Whether surrounded by people or all on my own, there's no change
Though its presence is unwelcome, it persists to overstay.
Insistent that within its grasp
is where, forever, I shall remain.
Imprisoned behind the bars
of its isolating ways.
Feeling crushed beneath the heaviness of its invisible chains.
Wheezing shallow breaths, suffocating and in pain.
Asking, telling, screaming, yelling; it just won't go away.
Neither will it set me free nor permit me to escape.
Sentenced my whole lifetime as its intimate inmate.
It's ineffable...
So why do we persist in it's expression
Bubbling up from somewhere we can't even name
It has to come out somehow, and where and how it does is unexpected
At least by those around us who're subjected to what remains
As a mystery to most... now that all is open
To that nameless hole that fills up with what needed to come out
Someday medicine might pretend to know what autopsies can't tell us
But despite what they'll come up with,,, I'll bet it isn't right
Some fancy Latin name won't begin to explain
How this spring can be continuous yet not have a known source
Just know that when the well runs dry
No matter that we knew not why
We knew it would happen by and by
In spite of where suspicions lie
In spite of who cried, "My oh my!"
A look inside is still worth all our questions
But we'll just have to live with the suggestions
If I knew how to make the clouds dance,
I would teach them to waltz across vast skies.
They would never dissolve into nothingness—
And they would always inspire searching eyes.
If I knew how to make the clouds dance,
I would be a musician of bright notes and vivid colors.
I would take them by the hand like friends,
So they would never grieve as lonely drifters or lovers.
I would teach them how to be like the swans,
Moving gently with grace as they glide.
A composer floating endlessly in the lake of dreamers.
Samael: "The orchard is open to omphaloses the stables are Sable's cheery O's and so cereal of woodwork, is fairy cereal so bold."
Uraeal: "I open the gates true north crashes down, the hell of highwater is where the shark surely drowned, but the westward gate is closed and so is the east and the south closes now, like heathery feasts.
The Pro: "Should be palaver again, the moon bright the brittle bread?"
Samara: "I bred in this fire, I tire of liars who are of the sort who won't kindle my fire."
Gladius: "The other festoon is under thine eyes, like he needn't cross-work on crosswords for prized possession, taken by the ghoul of Mary sent brethren."
Aurora: "If the course if taken by the northmost gate, let golden rakes fill the plates."
Helel: "Should we wait for the north gate to crumble, before he humbug the buggie and send swallows aflutter?"
(Anonymized character) "I created once before now I was become death, the pita bread moon like the harvest moon's friend."
---End of act V---
Peep day matrix,
of willowy fog,
grey sprinkled usher,
to ephemeral epiphany,
frail cloud mantle,
vacuous veneer,
or token inkling,
amorphous tweet,
encoded riddle flimsy,
sunshine arbitrator,
dispells hazy,
symbolism
I wait ‘til the end of the day
when I may have more to say
At times the words come tumbling out
Poetry, a teapot… my pen, a spout
Then there are nights I stare at the screen
Handcuffs on my heart, sight unseen
In the morn I once tried my hand ~
Muse yet ‘neath the spell of the sandman
Accountability is like a signature
that puts one's name directly behind a promise;
When the stamp of fault has left its mark,
the hands of guilt cannot hide the mess.
Accountability is like luggage
that carries the consequences of what we choose;
The suitcase of error exposes the blunder,
revealing what the bearer tries to refuse.
Accountability is like a camera
that captures and preserves the evidence;
When the lens of mistake witnesses the crime,
the picture of proof reveals grave offense.
Accountability is like a hook
that lets results catch up with those who do wrong;
The snare of slips silently sits and waits to trap
with a string of detection, swift and long.
Accountability is like a calculator
that computes the end result;
When the keypad adds every miscue,
on the screen, it will display the fault.
I JUST LOVE AND MISS YOU SO MUCH
Loneliness is as a period
Without a full sentence;
It mirrors a riverbed
That once knew water;
Yes, loneliness can be canvassed
As a dried eggshell that has lost all:-
You were my life’s sentence, water, and yoke:
And this life of mine, just misses you so much:-
I would free a butterfly
Exhale a lifting goodbye
Never knowing where
Or why he drifted
In frivolous flight
I would remember
As he faded slowly
Into a sunset memory
Lost in the now
Slightly forgotten
Her colors would mingle
An oil paint pastel
Dissolving on the horizon
Challenging the critics
To define their meaning
I would free a butterfly
,,,Knowing
That it was the butterfly
…Who freed …me.
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Related Poetry Forms
symbol, image, analogy, similitude, emblem, personification, allegory, hope, metonymy, trope,