Because I could not love for Love,
it did kindly love for me.
Pausing to love, like a Love does.
With an oddness, a frailty, consumed.
A goodness, however hard it tries,
shall always be caring.
A goodness is ducky, is favorite;
a goodness is dear, then again...
A friendship, however hard it tries,
Will always be temperate.
Do friendships make one quiver?
Or do they warm a soul?
I cannot help but look at the white dove.
All that is little is not romance,
romance, by all accounts is big.
Compassion is, in its way,
the emotion of fellow feelings.
"Staring", said the compassion,
and "staring", then "staring" again.
I saw the pious dedication of
a generation destroyed in the name of love.
I travelled down into the darkness of devotion,
Gently it goes - ghost-like, weird yet sacred.
Yes, like a sinking ship into a black abyss.
You see, I could not love for Love, but,
it did kindly love for me. Love is everywhere,
Yet, not a drop of love upon my lips.
Love or Bust Poetry Contest
2/1/2026
Sponsored by: Karen Jones
The brain is an instrument of improvisation
With its white and gray byways
garnished in electrical blood drops.
Creating refined works, although pressed for time and pressurized.
It suffers in its bone cage.
Like an octopus in a jar, always planning the grandest escape.
It is also a weapon of mass deception
pods of oddness, always plotting.
Endless deep blueness and innate jealousy.
A DNA staircase decorated in ornate self-centeredness.
Prone to God-mocking and demon-envy.
Overall, the brain is a hieroglyphic glass ball.
Bursting with dead-end riddles and black troughs.
Perched on a flint-and-paper faith pedestal.
Written: May 14, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your dewdrops are bedazzling on dunes,
Hides enticing sparks so haphazardly fumes.
Your eyes, akin to honey, exude an inner charm,
Love embraced your fragility with supple calm.
My love, time has tainted your obsession,
Captivating every pulse is magnetic affection.
Your aesthetic evokes divine Greek magic,
Dazzling draws blithely on peaks, ecstatic.
Enduring aromas soothe my random fondness,
Pushily puzzled by odd bond built by oddness.
Magic is real yet scary as seconds tick by.
Fear incites harm as sharp shards cry.
Prayers to all those trapped in this maze.
No one is or is meant to be scathe or graze.
Mist emitted by crashing waves may stay.
"It is only me," I whisper as tears of hope dry.
If my usual wasn't so ordinary
And didn't span great feats of generic
It may just be shy of extraordinary
A mediocrity so bland I'm hysteric
Enormity in normalcy's highest gear
Worked out so hard and never got abs
Without an ear my regular cannot hear
I'm the base tested against in labs
An everyday, workaday, 10 of a kind
Fantastically, head over heels habitual
Frequency, ooze from me, for oddness I pined
This middle of the road, uniform fool
An average in math I lack sum of the fun
My highest point is the peak of just typical
If my usual started with "un", not a prefix of none
This run of the mill status is biblical
I'm routinely symmetrical time and again
Burst at the seams in familiarity
A dullery so wild it verges on zen
Like a quietness without any clarity
I've searched the great depths of the known
Looked for an in but found not a trace
For my explicable or scrutable down to the bone
Destined to be dazzlingly commonplace.
Today I saw the woman
who seemed missing of her smile.
I watched her there
and we started to stare
at each other for a while.
I looked at her mouth
and heard her say,
“To thine own self be true.”
While in her eyes,
so tired but wise,
my every thought she knew.
She’d felt every feeling
and she understood my pain,
just as if she
were a part of me,
with somehow something to gain.
I wondered if she might go on
with seemingly much to say,
but matching my stare
she just stood there,
so I guessed it would not be today.
Feeling the oddness we looked away,
then I reached for the door.
When I turned off the light
she had gone from my sight
and the mirror went black once more.
~Jeannie Cronin
nature thrives on bestrewn oddness.
earth is tame in its fresh safeness.
the same for the rest of the world.
yellow, black, and white are all furled.
The geese there on guavas feed.
Cows may swallow the grass and weed
ripe cornflowers peep from the rows
Whelps and brats on each other's paws
From the loud roar of the flood tide
A swell choir of birds bourns each sighed.
High-pitched sparrows nod while they sing.
As crows with coal-eyes play pied string
calm and cool waters of the bay
clear and blue in the light of day.
but when darkness begins to fall.
it is the root sea's soothing call.
Written: March 30, 2022
I woke with moonbeams in my eyes,
feeling oddness had passed this way.
Opened a window, with surprise,
saw wee faeries, clear as day,
some rode on dragonflies in play
They danced and spun on moonlit lawn.
That's when I spied a Leprechaun.
As Dawn painted faint crimson gleam,
I saw her colors spilled upon
each wing, and toe, and crooked seam.
Adding to my intriguing spell,
voices, sweet, from treetops poured.
Songs were haunting, almost of bells
Each word singing lightest chords
and not one word should be ignored.
As Dawn's magic turned into day,
quickly my spell just fell away.
I search each day, and, yes I grieve.
I saw pureness in their brief stay.
They come but once... if you believe.
March 11, 2022
for A Magical Spell Contest
by Robert James Liguori
syllables checked with Syllable Counter
That cacophony of little, irritating noises inside me
Finally, tell me how we would pray for forgiveness.
The reckless condonation of a wickedness spree.
That cacophony of little, irritating noises inside me
We have no reason to suppose we possess an alibi.
Lamentation amid spasms of crying and weirdness.
That cacophony of little, irritating noises inside me
Finally, tell me how we would pray for forgiveness.
The reckless condonation of a wickedness spree.
That cacophony of little, irritating noises inside me
We have no reason to suppose we possess an alibi.
Lamentation amid spasms of crying and weirdness.
Finally, tell me how we would pray for forgiveness.
Insanely brave devotion that is never oddness.
Written May 08, 2021
WRITE A "TRIONET" FOR ME Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
It all makes sense
The Visions she sees
The Pain they inflict
The Insults hurled like stones
They all think she’s mad
A Crazy girl
An Imbecile Teenager
A Weird goth
She is the queen of an empire of beauty
An empire of Pain
An empire of Genius
An empire of Oddness
They need to subdue her
With Drugs
With Force
With Abuse
Alinina lies still on the hospital bed
Her visions, true
But those who were unable
To accept them had to subdue
The Mad Girl
Artist of the butterfly realm
Dancing a dream others dare not follow
Enticing your dendrites to play
Enjoying your imagination in the best of ways
Earthly silence in every day commonality
No one sees what you are about behind intelligent eyes.
The genius within, dares not growl during the day
Not showing herself to the masses
Keeping her butterfly realm inside,
Safely tucked away where imagery
Beautiful poems and paintings lie dormant
Waiting for her to open the door, and throw them to the skies.
In her silence, others worry, discuss her oddness.
Having no inkling at all of the wonderful world she nurtures
Rejuvenating and replenishing her world nightly.
To many recycled tears
We are spinning on mary go round
Round & round
Our relationship is at the lowest ebb
In retrospect i feel our old skool serene flow
Deep in your brown eyes is emptiness
Homless heart ache can relate
Lost someone Or something so valuable
Faith is outdate
Oddness in cold air
Flashback to your cold stare
Cold stare, icy eyes
Spinning, love sick, nauseous
Detox your semen from my veins
This love
Blossom beautiful
Dies vile
Please quit pullin me back
Im your little *****
SPCA cut the chain
Im humiliated but inn denial
This love is sickening
Free Me Free Me
From our insane cycle
It may be just a portion
Perhaps a small detail
To get your fire scorching
Or lift your deceiving veil
One tenth of a second
The pressure of my finger
A tangible gift beckoned
It will forever linger
My quirkiness is a blessing
Oddness birthed beauty
Ingredients in my dressing
Don't harm, but rather suit me
I don't anticipate riches
At least, not by formal currency
My prize is within the stitches
Sewn together for you to see
I'm humbled by the art
I have the pleasure of showing
On your wall, Pieces of my heart
A gift that keeps bestowing
As i sit and read your work, I ponder on it long and hard, think to myself Do you know me. Have we meet . this oddness is fair but with the many games I explore . Lets play those cards you say. I look upon your hand and feel a loss. I wonder why my cards are not good enough .Maybe they are, I whisper for it is not cards I play. I throw them in the air, smile and declare i’ve won. Life can be many things but a thought thats delivered can be fun. Whether I know you or not , what you wrote it traveled deep .My face was within your words my heart was bare . The game you played was never fair. and once again I threw it all up in the air .
Far Beyond
Far beyond the stars and morning dew,
Their are things know man will ever do,
Even as the morning does settle,
There is that invisable tone of battle.
A battle that makes love see God,
And those many whimicials that seems odd.
That oddness that makes love feel,
That most important part that heals.
For if love had a soul to hide,
It would surely make sadness my pride.
That pride far beyond sadness that seems stalled
For sometimes sadness makes a man fall.
Meet the crazy with the lazy;
Enter a space that feels hollow;
Time marks hazy oddness sickly;
Await new face as time swallows;
Misty moments minding message;
Open pages in cold mellow;
Resting movement reaching passage;
Pry life stages in odd shallow;
Here a spiral way of looking.
Intuit a glow that fashions more;
Dance a tribal pace of living;
Enjoy a show in glimpse before;
Appeal to form that functions well;
See the whole norm in art that dwells.
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2014
Singapore
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