Momentum is intangible.
So are spaghetti noodles, space, and grand openings.
I have enough time to learn about those things.
Climbing and stuff.
Dangerous for no reason, except they say it’s nice.
Turned my T-shirt inside out.
Shaking nuts and bolts off of me.
Catches on easily and causes people to skate around like a notebook doodle.
So are grass clippings, climbing bricks for no reason.
Momentum took me here.
To graceless sticks being run over by cars all day.
Momentum is sticky, slobbery, and takes all my favorite scarves.
healing balancing
emotional state of being
left my conscious
with phantom grief
hard to explain
the feeling of a despair
of released attachment
to worry stress anger
no longer holding space
to those emotions in heart
gaining a momentum
to feel something
different as a new
way to conjure thoughts
with the feeling of joy
J-ump
H-igh
I-n
N-ew
G-ear,
K-eeping
Y-our
S-pirit
A-ware
N-ot
T-o
O-verlook
S-tillness
©bfa062725
Monocrostic (Birthday of Jhingky Santos)
When you reach
the top of the mountain
remember it is not about the mountain
It is about the legs that did not fail you
It is about the sun that lit your way
It is about the wind that served your momentum
It is about the focus that empowered your stay
It is about the lesson that cleared your vision
It is about the bruise that made you strong
It is about the hand that nurtured your decision
It is about the rain that taught your heart a song
When you reach
the top of the mountain
remember it is not about the mountain
You would say you are no monster,
but you would let anger take over faster.
When it came to slapping you became the master.
Even though you took to an oath to never beat her,
but in her room, she was always there,
crying and wishing you were never near.
Your vows, totally the opposite of what you would do
All your promises, down the drain, they were never true.
She wanted to leave but was very much afraid of you.
She sat metabolised, there, in the rain.
Glistening, hoping it would wash away her pain.
The bruises, the scars, all connect to her brain,
but her tears and screams, all in vain
When you said, you loved her.
What exactly did you mean?
Love? that is not what she has seen.
Just crying till her body became lean.
Is this how it has always been?
Because this is not love, hope you hear……
On the time scale of the Maker
Just the blinking of an eye
But on his latest Creation
Millennia had passed by.
The ko-ko-ko birds no longer
Did their burnished daily run
Circling the World under
The steady square Sun
For they, like the Tigrons, were
Now almost completely gone.
In the Maker’s absence so many
Sorts of things had moved on.
The Adam and Eve descendants
Had long left their garden behind
With any recognisable trace of it
Almost impossible to find.
The destruction of the trees
Now almost complete
Most of the areas of each stand
Covered with concrete
The light from the sun
Obscured on most days
By industrially produced
Acrid pollution’s haze.
No white clouds delivering
The rain as pre arranged,
The once perfect climate
Almost completely changed.
A species set on destruction,
Another experiment gone wrong,
Too late now because the Maker
Had left it unchecked far too long.
Moved to Creation’s outer limits,
Now left to either survive or fall,
Sadly the Maker decided to
Finally turn its back on it all.
Lessons had been learned
For that time if, and when,
New worlds would be created
And the experiment run again.
He returned to his quite recent creation
Just to make check on the current situation.
Tigrons slid in from the plains to lie at their ease
Away from midday sun under those singing trees,
Stretching lazily leisurely showing razored claw
In unconscious reminder of nature in the raw.
The ko-ko-ko birds still made their daily run
Fast blonde flashes in that pulsing square sun;
The fleecy white clouds made the long grass wet
Releasing their loads on that very second preset.
The singing trees moved and swayed
In the breeze that quite gently played
And filled the air with their song
That played and replayed all day long.
And in their Eden Garden the Adam and the Eve,
Still naked in their ignorance, made him believe
That maybe this time this world could be free
From the bondage of that wild knowledge tree.
As the sky filled with that square white moon
The singing trees changed to their nocturnal tune
And under that gentle white light
This world slipped slowly into night.
He noted down his next time of review
And with a small sigh quickly withdrew.
relentless
through the night
her muse
AP: 1st place 2022, 1st place 2022
Joggers and walkers and puppies at play,
Taxis and Ubers and ferries –
All that I saw at the start of my day,
Plus the fruit stands with melons and berries.
7 AM and the city’s alive –
Awakened, refreshed and prepared
To bicycle, power walk, run or to drive,
Some with coffee they quickly have snared.
The energy, palpable as my own face,
Entices us so we believe
That the rest of the world’s at a similar pace
Though, of course, such a thought is naïve.
For New Yorkers do move to a different beat
And you love it or hate it, but still,
It cannot be denied that each morning we greet
That momentum New York does fulfill.
Early on, ere the grassy knoll gathers momentum
huddled shivering against the ground, stemless tops
of yellow dot the lawns of the old neighborhood, signaling
winter's demise without shouting Spring too loudly...
In a wink or a blink of an eye, these wild buttons
mushroom, spreading far and wide, usurping
the green mantle of my lawn, stems now shooting forth
twisting and turning at jagged angles, bizarrely...
at times, wild undergrowth barging into a (civilized) urban plot
when poof! their signature yellow smiles vanish, dispersed into
puff balls, architectural marvels, wind-scattered seeds, ubiquitous
but not before my inner child picks out a lovely bouquet
for my saintly mother
April 07, 2019
Entry in DANDELIONS contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
everything is a division
lol is it my mission
to balance the scales
momentum
is at a
momentary
standstill
state of
frustration
has snuck
up behind
my back
so it seems
at the moment
causing a pref
laps within
this present
state of
being
You have the momentum on your side
Keep at it and forge ahead
Enhance your mind always
And focus on your studies instead
The journey will challenge you
Let it build your inner strength
Move forward in a positive light
Brighten your spirits and do your best
We who are hiding in our second bedrooms,
Licking the silver from the backs of our screens.
Are living in a differently timed zone
Of waking awareness.
Sometimes 2, sometimes 3, sometimes 4 or more
Lives are lived each night.
In our rooms
By ourselves
Sitting too close to our beds.
This is our perpetuity
The lasting legacy of our species:
The glow that now contests the light that once shone from our eyes
Rises up to the razor’s edge of our understanding of
What is Unknown.
What is un-utterable.
What can barely be thought , much less said and
Yet keeps these words dancing so merrily across this page.
Caught in the ballet of silence that surrounds them.
Who are you reading this?
And what are you afraid of?
What perturbs your eternal sleep-walk into this night?
Are there questions you are pondering?
Or are you merely waiting for the screens to pull through for you?
Into your own quiet, private world,
Where the things that count never change.
And no one is dreaming you but your mother
Who has left you now for another child.
More: http://is-she-available.com
Pitter patter goes the heart;
Faster and faster it fell apart.
Dimmer and dimmer all senses went;
A hurried heart now all spent.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.