On the day of the Lord the human shall fear,
A terrifying god whom will Christians duly Peer,
The dead shall live again - the Christian tear,
A monopolising Christianity that cannot hear.
With, or without, all people are flatly, truly loved,
Without malice or tub, to jingle coyly ungloved,
Whatever the decade, decision, rubbed, tugged,
A transcendental god shall ring these beloved.
Talking clouds blown by earth’s graphic might,
Pose for the distant, scathed by a distinct light:
Enemies rise n’ fall as if tugging the dark night,
Offsetting the juggernaut of the ready birthrite.
A thought for people, bound, wet in eye-glare,
Principles, claims and chains won’t be the fare;
Nothing will work except behaviour and blare,
To suggest an ascent coloured by another wear.
All people are of inherent and fully equal worth,
God dies again for the decliner’s identity of birth,
Inside - not as proactive, with his mobile hearth,
A blacklist deceives those fleeing their childbirth.
Dominique Webb
Wouldn’t it be nice if every moment was just rainbows and roses with worries fading to dust
But snapped back into reality once we realize this fairy tale is not going to materialize
Yet can find peace in the pockets of time when joy and mindfulness intersect and combine
They'll come in a hurry and move on fast so hold onto them tight before they pass
Since those are the slices of life that keep us going offsetting the tough days to fuel our growing
It befalls on me the intensity,
Catapulted with dire immensity,
Within which lives the sensitivity,
Of them emotions built, the lightest.
Then befell on me, the beknownst,
Whistled in hymnes and in absence,
The peculiarities in offsetting balances,
Them unknown like the remnant strands,
And today rejoicing to the kinds of sounds,
Evilly tracked and maximum on commands,
Nursed the grievances forthwith,
Right so denied the chances to doeth,
Fight for agreances to heal and find worth,
Midst the punches on all ends and broken.
Breast of roses where her femininity used to be.
A scent of blossoms milled out by mastectomy.
The clippings praise and curse at the same time.
Her petals falling, weeping, assaulted, past prime.
Not fair…not the way she wanted to lose weight.
She ambles, learning to walk with this offsetting gait.
They were ample, with a perfect curvature, round.
She used to complain…now her buddies can’t be found.
With this primeval bouquet she’s not lost her life.
She’s more alive then ever after she’s been under the knife.
She’s a different scent, more vibrant with the love of her life.
He’s learned that what he would truly miss is his wife.
10/19/2022
TRANQUILITY
figurative
permanent
a silent
meditation
for a
nuanced trauma
a spacious
view
offsetting
the decorative
patterns
undulatng
expressive
yet mundane
concerns without pity
an idyllic
luminosity
in the
foreground
space in
harmony
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Is there something about grass
Close-clipped
On lawns and playing fields
That’s blithely overlooked?
Its qualities seem simply put:
Offsetting herbaceous borders
And yielding underfoot.
Or is every blade like everyone
Quite different from up-close
Unique and undervalued
Unsung and lachrymose?
SW, 2019
Sol struggles to peek through curtains of rain,
as sporadic sunshine pierces the gloom.
And yet, His persistence is not in vain,
His light fueling wildflowers to bloom
spread out before Him in their spring costume.
Droplets glisten in the air like jewels,
offsetting the dreariness of the day.
And rippling rays reflect off mirrored pools,
inviting the songbirds to come out to play
and participate in Sol's spring ballet.
Gloomy grey clouds no longer bar His way
as He glazes the sky with liquid light,
and colored blossoms are put on display
as their petals open in the sunlight,
reaching up to heaven, no clouds in sight.
A brisk breeze rustles the top of the trees,
burnishing their leaves an emerald green.
The air is abuzz with foraging bees
ferrying sweet nectar back to their Queen
while blue butterflies beautify the scene.
They listened
They listened to you cry
They listened to you scream
Fists bloodied from beating walls
Scars forming in your dreams
They never loved your heart
They never loved your being
Their tortured, corrupted souls
Offsetting what they’ve been
All of their hate
The memories of their screams
They never let it go
Until they could unseen
Your life is their excuse
For something to hurt
Exorcise their suppressed selfs
Your minds a toy to pervert
They listened to you cry
Never asked why so much hurt
They listened to you scream
Never realised what they’d been
Goodbye people of this blood
Goodbye now you can’t steer
The path open to me
Will never come back here
When the noisy city streets morph into a cacophony:
splintered sounds affect my psyche.
And anxiety overshadows the edge of tears;
until I feel, I've got to get away!
When my psyche needs time to recuperate,
I instinctively turn to Nature's tranquility;
offsetting the hustle and bustle of the city.
I love people, but sometimes,
I need to be alone with my thoughts,
listening to Nature speak in whispers of silence.
Leaving the city behind, I pitch my tent in my favorite spot;
a place of quietude and solitude,
serenaded by the murmurings of a babbling brook.
At night, as the stars bathe me in celestial light;
I feel exhilarated, rejuvenated, and refreshed!
Nature's serene spirituality embraces me;
penetrating every cell of my being.
And my body releases dopamine, which numbs my hurts,
and leaves me at peace, feeling one with the universe.
7/28/15
Actually
It's not the way it has to be
Another casualty
Inside the galaxy
While the wind blew diagonally
Offsetting several strategies
And physicalities
Across any region
Things will happen without a reason
During every season
Regardless of if many terms were ever even
Or there never being cohesion
Concerning religion I care not about what any believe in
And the same goes for any discussion about how much we sin
Don't fret or pace with nervousness
This place in space can be rather merciless
With or without great turbulence
Strange occurences
Across a vast amount of changed surfaces
And nearby where almost all ran into the same terminus
By: Dalton Ogletree
Contracting iris, I split my eyes
Pouring forth gold from a can opened sky
Globular syrup thickens the glue
Canopy black turns to canopy blue
Erasing the stars and so tragically you
Conducting the birds in an orchestral play
Rolls out red carpet that heralds the day
Baptising the sun, offsetting the gun
A kiss breathes my cheek ...
Her promisory gust goes to ruffle the leaves
In mischievous dance a dry leaf she twirls
Invites to forget and does a pirouette
My poetry pages she turns to ballet
Good morning miss... dismissive girl.. I say...
Grabs the news from my feet
Blows me away - three of us chase down the street
Further days are passing, lapsing long
Upsetting to unbecoming
At dawn, always loneliness undaunting
That continues on...
By inward breaking in
Will it ever come to fruitions end
The offsetting, untiming, to complete unnerving
This I ask myself, as the sun and I are quickly becoming
Sinking, drowning friends
Deep into each others night of nexus, merciless and unrelenting
The drag of it, an exasperating friction exhausting
By this not forgetting, beneath the spotlight of a taunting moon
As too soon, again the beginning
Of, the into giving
Another phase unto going through
And hence, once again to my own undoing
Upon this orb I do not move, but yet I am spinning, drifting
With a consequence left of, more of nothing, more
But, creeping cracks eroding, what once was forever yours
Of this tattered soul, that now must face its first inquisition heartbreaking
About a love in a tilted world, serendipitous it seems, only when it's still
Or, a branding upon a human’s fragile heart
With "why's" which one will never be fully comprehending
Or rather a hope that may never even be fulfilled
Today I shined very bright.
I added the fuel to ignite.
I gave it my all and hoped for the best.
I went in and faced the test.
Sitting there waiting, my pits sweating.
The quiet, lifeless room was offsetting.
Time taking so long I might grow thin.
Just waiting for the teacher to say begin.
She speaks and I dig in and give it my best shot.
I might not be the best but a quitter I am not.
Almost five hours later were done, I can barely see.
Minutes go bye, we get our score, could this be?
The teacher nods as she walks down the aisle.
1530 out of 1600, I'm in the 96th percentile!
Above the clouds today is where I flew.
Because today, I achieved a dream come true.
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