See ! Non living sources to initiate
living things to sprout ! Please appreciate !
Amazing ! So Surprising ! Marvellous .
Strange Procedure of Nature marvels us .
Potential energy has been conserved.
Nature claiming power and strength to be served.
Continuous Evolution going on —
with trial - error, subject to environ.
Birth to life , then formation - variation-
struggle, survival or even extinction !
Evolution ! A Blind Natural process,
Starting - Existing and Decaying ceaseless.
Through transformation Nature is versatile !
Cycling and recycling is Nature’s own style.
What if everyone was the same?
No difference was shown
We all had the Same opinions
No individual thoughts of our own
With the same life to undergo
What if everyone had the same actions?
No different styles or behaviors
We all achieved the same goals
And set up for the same failure
That may be your definition of a flawless society
But to someone else, it sounds like a perfect tragedy
A world full of people with no variety,
Tell me, would you finally live happily?
But what if everyone was different?
All the sameness erases
Different thoughts
Different faces
Different people in different places
Everybody had their own style
And was accepted for who you are
You lived your own life the way you want
And nobody looked at you like you were bizarre
To some, that’s closer to a perfect society
To most, that's nowhere near a good variety
If we’re the same
It's said to be a curse
But if we’re different
It's said to be worse
Don't you see that we can never win?
Even if we try and try again
sweet smile, bright eyes
own style, street wise,
9/20/2025
In my country
For you to make sense
You need to have money
For you to be respected
You have to throw money around
For you to find love
You need to have money.
Every effect
A cause
A man's wife may either
"Make" or "break" him
Everyone has their
own style of expressing things.
Forgetting we're souls
Not the body
The soul is limitless
And the body is very limited
We're from the infinite source
Never to be limited to substance or things but purpose.
Larvae of certain Butterflies
exhibiting a real surprise :
eating only mulberry leaves ,
though it is too hard to believe !
Larvae silkworms , that special !
Mulberry trees truly crucial
in their typical life cycle,
necessarily means own style.
Larval stage is caterpillar
chewing leaves, so peculiar !
Metamorphosis on next step
butterfly taking its nice shape !
All butterflies follow this norm.
to attain its full mature form,
chewing leaves as caterpillar
but butterfly sipping nectar.
This is the natural story
but for silk worm category
Mulberry leaves : only selection
They were left no other option.
Difficult to speak right at right moment
Words of mouth thrown once can't be taken back.
I try to be polite on each comment.
but sufficient promptness, I must not lack.
I talk pleasant putting proper effort.
Difficult to speak right at right moment
Verbal interaction is sure an art.
After conversation not to lament.
I try to be clear to words what I meant.
I talk to the point if to contradict.
Difficult to speak right at right moment.
Not being rude I talk, yet quite distinct.
Well known proverb 'what you say, say with smile'
Words of my mouth will remain permanent.
To impress listeners is my own style.
Difficult to speak right at right moment.
Into dormancy vines enter
preparing to grow for next season,
as vines have some valid reasons
to adjust with chill of winter.
Vines to undergo some changes
as both physiological,
and also biological,
survival process to arrange.
Leaves take on soft shimmering glow
before shedding off in the Fall .
when Autumn breeze starts to follow.
No photosynthesis at all.
The sap just sinks into the roots
till next vegetable cycle
to sleep getting ready for fruits :
Resting period ! Plant’s own style.
Till Spring plant takes this precaution
Simple behaviour of Vine.
Plant to get Nature’s protection.
In winter survival runs fine.
Not one poet here, should be assumed a poetic jerk!
So when you become Shakespeare overnight, it makes my body twerk!
Nor, have another poet write a poem for you..
Trying to fool us- double shame on you two!
Some here, do it on a regular, shameless basis~
Do you realize, it makes you so very faceless?
And I know, without a doubt, you do not write like that!
Better to write your own style, take off the felonious hat!
And please, do not try to pull that trick on me!
As obvius as an oak tree, growing out of your knee!
If you need help, ask people you trust…to help you with that.
Do not use AI to create your poetry and then expect us, to believe that??
Furthermore, you who do this, need to confess it and make a public apology!
Or if you can’t do that, at least erase the phony poem, restore your integrity!
Maybe other poets on this site, do not care at all?
But I would like to encourage you to return to the Honor Role, of a poet’s
true,creative call!
Pangie
1/7/2027
In the front yard, I see cars,
going places, who knows where.
In the backyard, I see trees,
leaves fluttering in the wind.
White clouds drift in a sky of blue,
butterflies flit from here to there.
The world goes on and on,
and I am all alone.
In the classroom, lots of kids
doing work the teacher gives,
in the playground young ones play,
boys and girls in their own style,
on the playground, year on year,
a cacophony of children's shouts,
sounds, forever, on and on,
and I am all alone.
Jobs, careers, marriages too,
religion, books, philosophy,
life's phases pass one to another -
in one, out one, then the next.
Years, in cycles, years like wheels,
on tricycles, bicycles, and cars,
and one day, wheelchairs,
going places, who knows where,
And I am all alone.
Back from the desert and loving it
both the visit and the return.
The powerful plane deiced in Chicago.
Brittlebush, difficulty distinguishing acacia from ironwood.
Mesquite, and plenty of paloverde.
A good jazz band in Phoenix, their own style, no apology.
Could you also love your cancer? The vicious attack of a hedgehog
cactus?
The winter storm that kept us on the tarmac three hours
followed us home. Used to be
when weather made the headlines, that was good news.
No more. Those melting icecaps and incoming meteors.
Some pray, some stay still, some keep playing.
Anyway, notwithstanding inexorably expanding or otherwise rapidly
contracting universes
I saw cercocarpus, phainopepla, tomentilla, saguaro, and a great guitarist.
Prayers were answered.
What if I got lost to my direction,
When someone entered,
I did not have your attention.
And now I was called to you again,
A sun that shines after the midnight rain.
My dear someone, a green forest, I must say,
I never hated you, my bitter heart I can’t obey.
Found myself guilty for setting you aside,
But my heart was yours from the start, I shall abide.
My sweet Prince whose eyes do smile,
It makes my day even just for a while.
You must see how I admire you from afar,
You must know I love you, just as you are.
I keep doing things I haven’t done before,
Just for you I’d do it twice, thrice, or more.
A hi for a day is my own style, my way,
A hello from you will keep my lovely day.
I know my clothes are a little crazy.
It’s not because I’m lazy.
I do care about my looks.
I just don’t read fashion magazines and books.
I prefer to make my own style.
Even if it’s a bit wild.
How do I explain?
How my style is not so plain.
A leopard sweatshirt.
I don’t like skirts.
I do enjoy pants with stripes.
A pair of shoes that have pictures of kites.
A scrunchy covered in colorful squares.
Socks that are unmatched pairs.
My style is ever changing.
I like the rearranging.
When the wind is strong,
Off comes my hat that I wear wrong.
Some people stare.
Some ask me to share,
Some fashion advice.
I don’t need to think twice.
I tell them to decide with their hearts.
I tell them to close their eyes as they fill their carts!
I believe that at first
I had a thirst for word
As a child I’d create my own style
And make up words to popular songs
Especially when I wanted to sing along
But did not have the vocabulary at age two
By age six I was full of poetic bliss
But only pounding keys on my toy piano
Shouting made up songs as I’d go
Then on a whim of destiny
I became a victim of rape
But I had no word for it
I truly didn’t know what to say
I didn’t understand at age six
That it was a teen and I was just a kid
I saw blood and thought the cool aide
I drank had simply leaked from me
The pain and shame was like a bad dream
But I did not despair for music was there
Then at age seven ironically
A family member, my father began molesting me
This time after years I did speak
To my sixth grade teacher who intervened
But before I could find a way to tell
I used poetry and journalism to excel
My writing was not really the best
But it saved me non the less
So for me music and poetry
Are at the core of my salvation my peace
Years of fears tears and therapy
I am healed and better for it all
Thanks to God and a teacher
Who inspired me to talk.
Colors drop, intermingle, and pop;
A waterfall of prismatic raindrops;
A downpour of prismatic raindrops
bring focus to a filmy mosaic;
See clearly a complicated mosaic
brushed with Earth’s salty tears;
Highlighting spectacular tears,
zig zags paint an umbrella’s design;
Crestfallen streaks an umbrella design
adding a flare of desolation and style;
Thunder loudly echos it’s own style,
bold reminder to always amplify;
Tempestuous storm fades just to amplify;
Colors drop, intermingle, and pop.
Every season a time for bells
handbells in the choir
Christmas bells on tree
doorbells
Taco Bell
everyone their own style and sound
hanging bells mixed with mistletoe
cow bells across the field
some rustic, bronze, vintage, old and new
no two are alike
some ring for Joy
some for sorrow
the sound of ringing bells
how can a hollow vessel
bring such calm and peace?
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