Like scramble eggs wanting over easy
Life bounces
Go with it, Bounce high bounce far
Bounce for bouncing
We are here once at least in this form
Today human
Tomorrow sparrow
Yesterday butterfly
Sitting inside my front screen porch
Mellow is the mood of my neighborhood
The sound of shoveling echos in the distance
I taste the day and savor the calm
Sunny and warm with a giggling breeze
And a lonely cooing of an turtledove
The sound of shoveling mixes into the moment
scraping the sound, spreading gravel
tap tap tap, it ceases
A lazy car moseys down the road as if nowhere to go
And my eyes transfix on the lovely figure
of a young teen girl walking slowly and surely
With no modesty of clothing or vibe
Indeed youth is wasted...
Troubles or pleasures life goes on
The night will shade
The day will shine
Life bounces either way
back and forth
high or low
Bounces
Categories:
moseys, life, symbolism,
Form: Free verse
Eight million people living here
Yet on my morning walk,
Deserted streets provided
Not a thing at which to gawk.
Behind each window there were souls
In various routines –
Asleep or in the shower
Or engaged in breakfast scenes.
I marveled at the emptiness
In such a busy place
Where no one moseys, but proceeds
At a frenetic pace.
Yet not in early morning
For it might as well have been
Any tiny U.S. city
As the huge one I was in.
Categories:
moseys, morning, new york,
Form: Rhyme
Their one lone cow has broken down the fence;
we see her trundling down the dusty lane.
Milo's mind remembers 'bout the milking.
Dad's face, a fiery-red, storms from the shed
where feisty kittens spat and sparred o'er cream.
Milo's feet meander back to the scene
as words of fire enflame dad's bulging neck.
"You'll wear the shoes that spooked the cow!" he roars.
So Milo moseys off to dad's bidding.
The cream a'squish-squish-squishes from the seams
of shoes like steam escaping old train wrecks.
Milo mumbles, "Guess I'd best be moving
along that dusty road to bring back Cow,"
with no concern for who will mend the fence.
written March 13, 2018
Categories:
moseys, 11th grade, 8th grade,
Form: Blank verse
Bathing on the mild mid-afternoon sparks sun-charmed,
Reclined on a wave lounge, the pulse of the landscape warmed
My mellowed sighs mollified by colognes of fragranced jasmine,
The scenery enchanting slumbered, its pulsations pristine.
Pliably surfing through the air, with a rustling symphony
A swishing ensued, rocking the willows in tuneful synchrony,
Infusing the stroked atmosphere with its breeze contagious,
Like a sedative morphine, its flowing gust harmonious.
Birds stayed aloft, darting, weaving and swooping in flight,
Swimming in the calmed gale crests, relishing its raw might
Seamlessly suave as a reposing sea, the aura imbued
A chorus of trills recurrent echoed, while trees slued.
The surging wind ambled the aerated skin of nature,
Wandering like a regal gipsy, clad in mistless moisture…
Immensity of efficacy lies within veils of intricate purpose,
Like the invisible textureless wind, moseys to self-repose.
© Maverick Nyambu
Categories:
moseys, imagery, nature, peace, places,
Form: Rhyme
In a colorful shade of brightness
on a winternoon;
with the shadows hardly bothering, at all;
the air's got a bite
as day ready's for night,
causing mercury levels to fall.
~
There's a chilliness inside the brightness
on a winternoon;
continuing to persist to convince;
on a journey Sol goes
causing shadows to grow,
one can watch Sol retreat, if one squints!
~
The colors all fade from the brightness
on a winternoon;
the day trades all it's clouds for night's bright stars;
with family member, or friend
when the day finally ends
we'll animate our winowed restaurants, and bars.
~
So we slide through the squint in the brightness
on a winternoon;
and vividly night's canopy gets raised;
time, moseys on
quietly yielding the next dawn,
then, we'll all start all over, unfazed.
Categories:
moseys, adventure, fantasy, imagination, life,
Form: Rhyme
I’m wondering when
next time we meet,
what form we’ll take
in the next heartbeat
Will we be the rays
that blaze from the sun,
or could we be sprays
from when time begun
Maybe as nightingales
we’ll sing to the moon,
or maybe as wolves
we’ll sing our own tune
Would that we shifted
dimensions and time,
maybe our hearts
would beat the same rhyme
Maybe as echos
through deserts vast,
or maybe a comet
that moseys on past
Will we be leaves
that glisten the trees,
or will we be wind
that blows to the seas
Whatever we will be
and wherever we become,
set our spirit free
we are one anthem
Categories:
moseys, imaginationtime,
Form: Verse
I'm wondering when
next time we meet,
what form we'll take
in the next heartbeat
Will we be the rays
that blaze from the sun,
or could we be sprays
from when time begun
Maybe as nightingales
we’ll sing to the moon,
or maybe as wolves
we’ll sing our own tune
Would that we shifted
dimensions and time,
maybe our hearts
would beat the same rhyme
Maybe as echos
through deserts vast,
or maybe a comet
that moseys on past
Will we be leaves
that glisten the trees,
or will we be wind
that blows to the seas
Whatever we will be
and wherever we become,
set our spirit free
we are one anthem
Categories:
moseys, life, love, nostalgiatime,
Form: Verse