A newty knit a net of knots and thought it rather fitting.
But knew he not, that naughty newt, that nets are not for knitting.
The safety net dangles
blows, twists, and turns
in the increasing winds
cut from its moorings,
and the people fall
grasping for
the shredded and useless
remains
evisceration of social programs
Medicaid, food stamps
consumer protection
job security
cuts to vital research
alienation of long-faithful allies
emulating dictators instead
flouting of the courts
rescinding environmental laws
erasing history and
all vestiges of non-white
accomplishments
making America white again
issuing edicts to silence
all who do not bend
the media universities
judges Congress
art and social institutions
theater and concerts
forcing religion in schools
Constitution be damned!
and the torn safety nef
flaps in the wind
Her grandfather called her to their front yard,
“Come here, my child.”
“I want to show you how to mend this net,”
he said tenderly,
his fingers weathered like the ropes he held,
gnarled and worn like ancient driftwood.
But her gaze drifted towards the horizon
the pull of its horizon stronger than the weight
of his quiet hopes.
“I don’t want to learn,”
she grumbled under her breath,
kicking the dust, a powdery veil
that crumbled and shifted beneath her feet,
to leave his pride untouched.
The old man sighed,
“One day you’ll wish you had,”
and left it at that.
his hands busy with the knot,
hers busy avoiding the duty
as she played with the hem of her dress.
Years later,
when the net sat coiled and brittle,
in a forgotten corner of her mind,
she found herself standing by the ocean
her hands clumsy,
wishing for the wisdom
she once refused to take.
She understood that minute
what he never said:
Some things are not for the moment-
but meant for when the moment has gone.
The thing
about rhyme
is you can’t help
but read it
The glue
in the verbiage
whose tonic
is needed
Uniting
each line
with the magic
of sound
Melding the
moment
as phrases
— surround
(Dreamsleep: September, 2024) O/L 9-23-2024
... Famous Quote By Robert Frost
Coming Out
Comfort and meaning can be found
In the draping of rainbow flags
And the joyous stupor of marching
Alongside understanding strangers.
Absolved of the sin of lying,
She now stands free.
A new kind of love blooms within her,
Big as a bright yellow sunflower
And purer than Alpine snow.
Anxiety
Breathe in, breathe out.
The crawling of the skin is real,
Repelled by the way
Prying eyes touch and poke and prod.
Even if nobody stares, everybody stares.
Breathe in, breathe in.
If she breathes out the skin will crawl again.
Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in,
And hold.
Depression
No difference now
Between her lifeless, shallow-breathing visage
And the stains on the walls
Left behind by negligence.
Tired eyes follow ticking time
As it slips right by her,
Through the crack in the window
And into the cacophony
Of urban joy beyond.
As information is sourced, we knowledge add.
Entertainment is accessed by each ipad.
The cost of research is by the net reduced,
whilst addiction to **** is by it induced.
Banking transactions are by it made easy,
so does the convenience of a shopping spree.
We conveniently send mails by speed of light,
and connect to old buddies beyond our sight.
Its flash of lightening promotes the breaking news,
so does its ill wind the fake ones for our views.
It mocks distance with commercial activities,
and lures perverts to their sexual proclivities.
It does our world flatten with mobile services,
its not by distance hindered for con men's vices,
neither will it the distant swindled protect.
It does the deeds of distant bullies perfect.
Transnational love has by it been produced,
when love birds electronically are introduced.
Global link that binds us all like a cobweb;
Old and young alike, each enslaved by the web.
.....................GOOGLE
quick look
fact book
TWITTER WIKI
quick thoughts free facts
once short unpacked
NOTE:Each of the above is a FOOTLE ,a two line lines,2 syllable verse with an integral title-Light Poetic verse form,witty,pertinent,topical etc (technically a trochaic monometer and not necessarily in rhyme).
Footles on the otherhand(with an 's' ) is a 'hybrid' innovative sequenced variation that has developed over the years (since 2009)alongside the original definition.
Now, I'm dealing with mosquitoes!
All about standing on my toes,
Refusing to accept the throes;
Back to Mosquitoes bad death throws...
Harsh hand claps to just have one smashed,
For if I did not would be lashed
Upon entries into net cashed
Their bloodstains on it shall be washed...
In water troughs would meet their eggs
And - guess the next - use my legs...
I never could be a lover
Of studies of their Larva:
A part of Africa's rude woes
Each gaped gutter that flows!
Not a sad chapter she might close
Or the day she does The End close.
It feels like safety
It feels like home
It feels like falling in love
And all I've ever known
The thrill it brings
The space it fills
We fight and makeup
It's about the journey in the story
This is my life; my happy place
My light after the dark tunnel
Poetry embraced
Her face was twin to a net
It looked worse than a whizzle up pet
Tried all kinds of creams
Still couldn't redeem
So, she wore a plastic face set
time’s sands swirl
the spinners spin, our marionette lines
twisting and entwined
caught upon each other’s lives
loss now stains my mottled
once proud face, scaffolding
slack and slipping ever downward
with fogged eyes failing in their folds
summer’s sun a distant memory
and winter’s icy doorway within reach;
so much I should have said, but
words failed, falling stillborn from my lips
immedicable wounds now fester, layered
scars purple and puckered accuse
as I hum some dreary dirge
to the beating wings of carrion birds
no refuge anymore for the damned
time a long way passed such redemption
I stand staring at that frozen hole
muttering prayers in an angry landscape
.. goodbye old friend
fractured; the angry march
to I’s nexus
red, not gold, tracks.. wired to
perfect black
catastrophic chiroptera
see this cornucopia -
what plenty?
sat in a prison of my making
dark holes in piled skulls
an unwelcome reminder
I am nothing like that boy
so full of righteous ambition
certain of what was just; right
blinded by that conviction
consumed by my fervour
I became the whirlwind
danger swims in certainty’s waters
sirens sing and sailors sink
rapt in passions promise
armour now covers what’s left
immedicable wounds etched within -
right can become wrong
I learned to build walls
to separate and preserve
some salvaged solemn sense of self
a sworn queen’s man
duty done, I sit apart
making peace with ghosts
I did not choose, I was chosen
the gate and keeper;
killer and cure
life not mine for living
walking paths you cannot see
talking tongues you do not know
I am the light burning inside
the darkness at the shore
that shadow in the corner
eyes, windows to be shared
extramundane -
soul searcher, truth sayer, circle squared
I am ancient numinosity
no idle curiosity
- I see the end
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