! Alas when I am often frozen, and or so cold;
I feel my skins sparkle, a risen
My state of my skin in excitement, chilled or in pains;
I a risen
Small bumps appear on the surface of my skin
As my hair erects, by this effect
Rounded dots do emerge stimulus neurotransmitter;
The cold has just given me goosebumps
Spiritual chills often directed from guided Angels;
transient paresthesia confirming an underlying truth;
Spiritual chills one of the first psychic senses to open up skin tissue loose
skin tingling, tingling, tingling hair erecting microscopic bumps risen up
and goosebumps are often for those on a spiritual path
whether they done something wrong or right
2/25/20
For N-A Rerun 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
written on 11/6/19 entry date
For original "Goosebumps Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by: Delilah Ventura
Categories:
neurotransmitter, analogy, anxiety, appreciation, confusion,
Form: Free verse
Beastly burdens of life
Millstones round my neck
Not that I malign my wife
For in my eyes beastly burdens of life emulate a sneaking snake
Writhing on the hard road
Through life I travel
On my head perching an abnormal load
Of which I never cease to marvel
Although pressure my neck oppresses
Enjoying a free ride
As twinges of pain pressure stresses
With unabashed pride
Driven to extremes
That hurt, hurt and hurt
So sharply they satirize dames
To whom sweet nothings I blurt
Not that to me it matters or flatters
Whether dames don long or short
In gild letters that decry fetters
As they snort
Raising my ire
With candour
Warmed on a cold night by the fire
Fanned by the parallax of pain odour
A neurotransmitter smells
Telling me I’m lying
When burden spells and scales
Confirm I’m sighing and flying
Despite averse appearances
That on the grapevine seem to glorify and aggrandize gossip
Inferences on my circumstances
Which in a vacuum peep, weep and fall asleep.
Categories:
neurotransmitter, poems,
Form: Free verse
Hello, this is beyond the, the voicemail.
This is the brick corner and ribbon road.
Goodbye, bygone, this is no real detail.
This is falsetto time and lost signal,
miles away, minutes long, and God’s load.
Hello, this is beyond the, the voicemail.
This is the neurotransmitter that failed,
forced friction burning holes in the Orr cloud.
Goodbye, bygone, this is no real detail.
This is the hand placing coins on the scale.
This is the ear searching by stereo.
Hello, this is beyond the, the voicemail.
This is no go, no context in Braille.
This is the cryptic man and woman’s code.
Goodbye, bygone, this is no real detail.
This is me. This is no love song that wails.
This is the only bluff I know in town.
Hello, this is beyond the, the voicemail.
Goodbye, bygone, this is no real detail.
Categories:
neurotransmitter, social
Form: Villanelle