In quaint quiet shadows,
a flame might flicker,
silken wisp on sight,
night channel wave,
I tap into,
as shrouded ghost,
my vocal template,
dark green leaf cast,
I cagily address,
eerie script nocturnal,
theatre of silence,
begging to erupt,
dim lit street platform,
poignant palette pointer,
fantasy in bloom,
blind seed dispersal,
for furtive audience,
spurred and spurned by,
my whispered rally,
nebulous or novel,
stark wooden benches,
empty chair syndrome,
context, conjure, cater,
traffic lights hue’d symbol,
clueless plots on queue
Mist swallows the edge~
sky and sea blur into one,
no clear path in sight.
Yet I walk where light once fell,
trusting stars behind the haze.
I told the truth
and still, someone bled.
Silence would have stitched us shut,
a delicate, rose-gold lie—
woven into the wallpaper
of a bedroom left sketched.
I thought I was choosing clarity,
but the mirror fogs each morning.
Future—blunted, gray—
looms like wet brick pavements.
No signs, only echoes of footsteps—
taunting like the choices I regret.
This morning,
I climbed the roof before the city stirred.
The sun split the clouds,
warmed my skin but skipped my heart—
Guilt prefers to feast on trembling cold.
Tomorrow arrives in haze.
The city dyed a flowing gold—
nowhere to place my next step.
When under the gun how can one
not be outdone by nepotism
or overcome by favouritism
altho' the norm they're no more
than a form of terrorism
a nebulous opponent none can fight
on the human landscape
naught but a blight
from which we can't escape or run
any self-respecting someone would shun
and as for me you see
I was obviously yet definitely
born in the wrong place
at the wrong time with the wrong face
seeing promotion from outside in the cold
not a foot could I put over the threshold
what with doors slammed progress jammed
out of my depth in over my head
can't get a look-in may as well be dead
blazing russet l e a
v e
s
s w i r l against petrichor
streets ~
nebulous n e x u s
She finds the pink planet, musing Alice Liddell's Imagination is the only weapon in war with reality. Sky's canvas, brushed cotton candy clouds where marshmallow mountains peak and the seventh sun rides low 'til the man in the moon awakens. White light and red, filters a pink-tint, nebulous fringed rose gold. Pearlescent beams lap at her legs, silhouettes blossom as silky waves of jasmine kiss, spiral, and envelop her
open-mindness to
embrace the unexpected
Alice would be proud
realization pink planet
a bountiful life journey
Oh such a mess.
The Scientific nebulous.
Deception, misdirection, misrepresentation.
Electronic misinformation.
The recalibration.
Attainment is futile.
For the vile.
Love and friendships torn apart.
Right from the start.
Traitorous laughter.
Fallen lives a disaster.
Betrayal of Magna Carta.
Distorted facts.
Piracy in their glass houses.
Shattered.
Humanity ridiculed.
Bereft, wayward as criers obligated.
Liberties, Freedoms, to dust.
Memories of trust.
Oh dear, what a mess!
Will they confess.
It’s up to us.
Oh the Scientific nebulous.
Deep restless thoughts that eddied in midnight disclosure,
My old mind shivered in traumatic tribulations.
No treats for dissolute persons to seal composure.
My mind filled with moths and other abominations.
I dreaded the spooky strength of my demon nightmare,
Defying all useless urges of vigilant trance,
Perpetual murmur of unceasing burbled fare,
Moonlit wintry rays indulge in a macabre dance.
Relinquish all dreams that cloud my old illicit thoughts,
Grab sturdy roots, get out of that pit, aim at my goal,
Can't let my senses get dulled but avoid useless rots,
Saunter steadily in love which is life for my soul
What an unusual pragmatism conundrum.
We drum in our kids a sense of quantum.
Then, a few days later, we express our pain,
When we gaze on persons with the same stain.
We maintain tabs on the culprits responsible,
Similar views of the notion that we never boggle.
They also discuss the necessity for integrity.
Possibility of enduring unbearable agony.
Amidst all, we will mainly overlook the peculiarity.
There is a true cure for all our zealotry idiocy,
Our exquisite was driven to beauty, God's grace.
Over halcyon deeds, people in need, and peace.
We view a frail side within; it's a sort of plague.
There is no particular heal; thus, care is vague.
Written: November 25, 2021
nebulous nymph grew
the mystery of a few
wings drawn in faint dew-
February's air is not really that frigid,
I stay warm in my fleece jacket
and insulated brown boots;
I'm also wearing a wool hat
I bought a month ago in Lake Placid,
its color is green and smells of spruces.
I have walked past pine groves
without the glowing eyes of owls,
a light breeze brushes them against
the mystical night with nebulous stars;
their branches are stiff and would be broken
if the wintry wind, taking a snooze, swept
them hard when nobody is woken.
Nostalgic thoughts make the cold blood warm,
their images appear amid silver shadows
reflecting a moonlight unsteady and vague;
unafraid as always, I go past them
not fearing ghosts or howling wolves,
and even less the ravaging snowstorm
about to approach soon. I'm thinking of Prague
where the temperature is much colder and
walking through the cobblestone streets,
one sees the magical Christmas unfold...
snow on red rooftops and Marionette Puppets.
Nebulous angels vacant worth
Foresee no fortunes adulate
Dawn's desecrated, faithless birth
Supine mother to stillborn fate
2/21/20
For 'Poe-etic Verse' contest
sponsor: charles messina
Shared 2nd Place
Love is such an ambiguous emotion
Cloudy as a storm darkened sky in July
To many it brings comfort and devotion
To others, it's the reason why their eyes cry
A nebulous mind hasn't the slightest notion
that hearts are treacherous and will even lie
in its yearning to find passion and desire
Love is a spark, but if lost, will douse a fire
= - = - = - = - = - = - =
August 1st, 2017
Love is actually...
Contest of John Anderson
Nebulous streams clouding my brain.
Nebulous streams clouding my brain,
Oh! this cluster,my mind I have to train.
Release,release is what it screams,
Creativity is upto the brim.
Where have you not taken me fine lines,
Images,imaginations inside chimes.
You invite me to the silent moors today,
We were on the mountains yesterday.
Sunflower beds will blend along,
Bright yellow shade to them belong.
Perhaps the silvery waterfall is desired,
Musical notes all around are imbibed.
Let me moisten my pychological seeds,
Ground soddens,here is so much to breed.
Rhyme Scheme-aa,bb.
Contest: What I was thinking.
Sponsor:Daniel Turner.
17/12/2016
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
Obscure eyelash, aimless your leaf
You ask for rhyme, well, to what end
One way poems, emptiness in ship
Arriving to nothing, blind direction
No door opens, except baffling pain
What a crimson commerce, of emotion
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
Every glass is broken, milk is spilt
Every moment tense, where is rose
In dream we tremble, pain and guilt
In your venom valley, no grass grows
Can’t there be, an ocean for all
In every dreamy eye, a pink waterfall
A little cottage garden, for birds to call
A crystal clear stream, easy footfall
_________________________________
16/12/2016
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