in the frenzy of sheer enthusiasm,
an earthquake felt all over...
Superbowl win, baby!
Its sun is brilliant bright and bonny bold,
a lustrous light, largesse in satin sheen.
Intake of breath sensory manifold,
for a warm, welcoming autumnal scene.
Aurora-colored leaves paint the timber
where mountaintops all dress in ermine capes.
Watch crimson clover wave its arms limber
and mighty pines show off their slender shapes.
Delight in unique season's sights and smells,
wintersweet, artic polemonium.
Rejoice in grandeur of the season's spells.
It’s all pumpkin spice pandemonium.
For all God's tireless efforts let us praise
with appreciative heart and voice upraise.
The sound that shines,
The ray that rhymes
No soul hears,
Nobody fears!
The heart wanders to listen to it,
The sound feeds the heart!
The sound that melts the insolent hearts of many
The sound that makes the untethering minds !
It is a disturbed pandemonium for some,
a blissful melody for the others!
Tis nothing but the sound of light
Of parrots and parakeets, no one knows
now numbering in the thousands
no longer Mexico's bucolic birds
new urbanized citizens migrated
to the suburbs.
If you travel to Los Angeles and county
where hobo avians flock to Pepperdine
hoping to matriculate to paradise..
Pasadenans know the raucous calls from palms
festooned in bright feathers and pheromones.
Should you wish to elicit a response
from a Red-crowned Amazon..
just ask any witch cat which hungers
with an acute accessory olfactory
rife in feline grin and purpose
eye'n the skies cheerfully.
And somewhere Marianne Faithfull warbles
'this little bird who lives on the wind,
this little bird that somebody sends.'
they're listening too, with a coo and squawk
o'er the skies of Silverlake
and Eagle Rock.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This Little Bird sung by Marianne Faithfull - Lyrics by J.D. Loudermilk 1965
~ autumn pandemonium ~
unkempt piles of leaves
carelessly tossed from branches ~
autumn leaf debris
tangled leafless boughs
autumn’s hair in disarray ~
scattered frost crystals
messy season sighs
disheveled threadbare forests ~
rumpled cloak of fall
bands of color float
into shabby sable mounds ~
jumbled rainbow heaps
hollow winds discard
bits of fall hued confetti ~
autumn ignores brooms
unruly autumn
leaves remains of fall glory ~
pandemonium
Green! This is what comes before me when I think of parrots.
Aren't, yet, red, blue, indigo and mix of all their merit?
Mingling midst moss-green leaves; moving like calm breeze midst them,
Parrots have their ways of singing their daily sans-anthem...
Papayas and pomegranates stand so shy when they arrive,
Camouflaging their colors, these, within and midst them thrive.
Careless and carefree...? Nay. They know their undefined freedom.
Amalgamating with the limitless nature-kingdom...
short, sturdy, curvy beak that resembles an antique art,
As though, within it hides austere, authentic earthling heart...
I cannot bear them brooding in a cage, silver or gold,
Every parrot in us should come out courageous and bold...!
25 September 2022
A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
The Pandemic has muddled my brain,
This world will never be the same.
It's driving many people insane,
Human Beings are to blame.
The tightening grip of the pandemic
Stifled the livelihood of many
With the daily wagers losing jobs
Mere survival was at stake.
A benevolent NGO opened an outlet
In our locality to provide daily
Food and provisions free
To the needy and the destitute.
Every morning scores of people
Stood in long tortuous line
Under the scorching summer sun
Until the shelves were empty.
In one such morning as usual
The line was moving slow
When someone proclaimed
Lockdown would start from midnight.
People broke the orderly line
Rushed in panic toward the food bank
Soon its shutters were pulled down
So pandemonium didn’t turn to scuffle.
August, 5, 2021
Contest : Panic At The Food Bank
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
Trump focuses on his banana
So what could he do but dump Anna?
Eight months or seven weeks
Required Trump's special tweaks
So he could blame folk in Savannah!
Trapped inside my house,
Death is in the air,
Fear is catching,
As all of America sits in front of the TV,
Hypnotized by the condemning news,
Until one by one,
We begin to reach out to one another,
Our faces illuminated by laptop screens,
Our friends and family smiling back at us through our cameras,
Our teachers bestowing their knowledge through our speakers,
Our pastors spreading the word of God through our screens,
Sparking hope,
And soon that hope is flourishing,
And I don’t feel alone anymore,
I know this will end,
It will end because we have each other to lean on,
It will end because we have faith.
Super Bowl cancelled.
NBA games played to empty stadiums
Virus has caused havoc
Corona incites fear
America is abandoning her entertainment fields
Las Vegas is bereft
Disney land and Disney World have no tourists
People are at home locked in houses
Neighbors are not neighboring
Churches and schools are closed
Pandemonium has erupted
End of Times
Pan-Pan, the demons have jumped,
Ship on fire, smoke engulfing.
It's Demonium here! But, we're coping
for now. Hoping in hell
we can beat fire back to pan.
Pandemonium packs a powerful punch,
persisting pitifully in its path.
Such a pretentious, pernicious prat,
pilfering everything;
Producing panic.
I’ll make pandemonium pay;
Penning a poem that puts
Pratt pandemonium in it’s place,
permanently.
10-23-2020
Alliteration 004 (I prefer old poems) Poetry Contest
Poet Destroyer A
P anic stations in Labour Ward
A fter the doctor cut the cord.
N urse noticed Mum's tum
D ecidedly distended still.
E mergency equipment
M ust be found, as it's
O bvious after listening in,
N urse has heard a second twin.
I n case this baby need O2,
U rgently once it's born.
M y..what a busy morn!
20/11/2017
For Silent One's HERO contest.
Pan-Pan, the demons have jumped,
Ship on fire, smoke engulfing.
It's Demonium here! But, we're coping
for now. Hoping in hell
we can beat fire back to pan.
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