In younger days, if in a rush,
I’d race right over frozen slush
Without a thought of danger there
Of which I should be made aware.
Yet nowadays, I view the street
When there’s been snow or hail or sleet
As someplace where such dangers hide,
I might be better off inside.
I’ll venture out, but take each step
So gingerly, without the pep
That usually propels my gait
Each day when I perambulate.
Around me, all the younger crowd
Still walk like doubt is not allowed,
Especially since city folk
Most always seem to go for broke.
At least I know that once the ice
Has melted, I will not think twice
Of moving with my normal strut,
No fear of falling on my butt.
To perambulate walks of life you need -
Calm common sense, clear vision and a creed.
A bit of luck, a lot of zest and hope
For glowing lights in your kaleidoscope.
Last but not least, your bright and vivid hue -
Translucent and transportable IQ.
July 1, 2022
The Perambulate
David J Walker
(Bach Cello Suite N1 in G Mischa Maisky)
What part of me
Was lost
or
Never was
I see
Refracted
reflections
In a turbid sky
I feel the
Dryness
Of a desert
Cracked in brown skin
I see a crown
Muddied
Bloodied
Without a head
I read a calendar
Faded
In a boarded up
Skelly station
I visit the home of
Discarded
Treasures
Called secondhand stores
I watch reruns of TV
Shows
I never watched
before
I remember every Teacher from
Elementary school
And forget most of the rest
On purpose
I drive an old car
I’ve always
Wanted
But could never afford
I married and
Buried myself
In a love sworn to
Last forever
I’ve lived a long
Life
And wanted more
Through corresponding Orphan Gates,
Taken out One by One.
Adorned with a Tiara,
Sisters apart, for years.
The first carried out,
Feet unable to perambulate.
First princess over the threshold —
Flies feet first into the carriage.
On each side, adoptive parents.
The second in royal pace,
Glances behind, only for a second.
Takes her place beside her Sister.
Sweet hug, kiss on forehead.
The Pumpkin Coach marches on.
Delicate orange curtains, gentle wind,
guides them forward from the Ukraine
to the promise of America.
What that is - is a mystery to the girls.
Each step will further Freedom.
What freedom is
A home to call their own
A place to run free
Choices, choices, choices…
Celebrate your own
Freedom
What many lack
Is in their own imagination
Turn up gratitude
Find someone
Less fortunate than you
Spend your love on them
Choose
To give abundantly
From your goldmine
Godspeed ahead
10/18/2020
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload quads of queries
Lumped and dumped on our battered bodies by blister berries
Spiced with slices of suppression and subjugation
That in the end neither mend nor amend our conjugation.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload wads of whims
Whisked and kicked into reams and streams of our dreams
Spiced with slices of surrender without a defender
To prevent vents and tents that land our glands into a blender.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload squads of sentiments
Sneaked into tricks that kick our caveats and comments
Said with the aid of braids of dread and lead
That pound and ground pain within the brain in our head.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload triads of tribulations
Located to allocate lots, plots and slots of sneeze speculations
Marinated with cellulite, marmite alongside territory termites
That undulate and perambulate in our tenderness satellites.
The sound of Jazz fills the night
People perambulate under City-lights
Looking for luck where they might
The young hunters keep out of sight
Those whom never back from a fight
Whose knuckles have been worn white
Tonight she's the one they stalk
She strolls along the sidewalk
Finding her way down the blocks
Weaving with grace through the flock
Passed the line at the Blue Fox
You'll see her in thigh-high socks
Sitting there, feigning small talk
She hides herself in dimlight
and clouds of nicotine
She's no stranger to the night
or the social Bar Scene
She can set the mood just right
with black hair and eyes that gleam
She takes romance to new heights
and to some, she is the Queen
With hands that wish to grasp
Like smoke, that fail to clasp
This pain is her invention
This void is her intention
my words, inspired by my muse, others too.
nature, her biodiversity, vast
to venture out, recording all I view
all joy, my never, ever ending task
creatures, not oft the public chance to view
pseudoscorpions, tiny, pin head small
mostly brownish, some red, and pink ones too
tiny wasps that hatch and form an oak gall
my words inspired by my muse, nature too
my muse, for nature, also has inklings
in her jungle, nature, she doth pursue
a tad more splendid than my tinkerings
together we often perambulate
on my shoulder, my invisible mate
Is Donald Trump not essentially American,
An exemplary icon of quintessential America?
A normal man to the loud, confident American,
The pride of the burly, bullish pedestrian?
Freedom of speech is understood by Americans,
To mean that diversity is the consequential result,
And that all can perambulate along vocality’s road,
Without fear of scathing, of the eloquence catapult.
Bigotry is rife in the States and you can’t criticise,
Harshness, coarseness or brevity for anything,
Because if you do a snide remark with cascade,
To sedate your narrow mind and morality thing.
So here’s the thing: the president is not normal,
But is a speciality without symbolism of the norm,
So maybe it should be harder, languages required,
To become a presidential nominee with silk form.
The warm glow exaggerates,
Cafe coffee cobblestones,
First birds gather, comatose,
Infusions fill the empty ears,
Weathered couples perambulate,
In cozy, happy atmospheres
Winter grins and bears
The end he knows is near.
The wait is almost over,
Not that it matters much,
We met on the horizon,
And now we almost touch.
Yes it's more than just a moment
Our spring will soon be here.
People in the history
Make a different story
People in the country
They are called mystery
A gradual change happened
Living beings of not pulsated
Life is a struggle of extended
Without stick of blind folded
Having captured a snapshot a profile
Perambulate like aimless animal
Aggregate and run for the life of final
Become a destitute in elite dark tunnel
Someone wants to halt and to look around
To see the motion of world everyday around
To make a concrete direction forward
How it is mad to judge people mind
Udaya R. Tennakoon
Watch the people walking –
Check their bodies, not their faces.
You can tell a lot as they
Perambulate their paces.
Strutters filled with confidence
Step lively, arms a’swinging,
Silently announcing
It’s their “A” game they are bringing.
Trudgers tramp with labored tread –
They’re carrying a weight;
Dispirited, they have no place
To which they might be late.
Tourists amble merrily;
They traipse on guidebook treks,
Jauntily meandering,
Their cameras ‘round their necks.
On any city street, observe –
Analysis awaits,
For there’s a lot to learn
By scrutinizing people’s gaits.
FOREST OF KNOWLEDGE.
Wisdom is this brown pin,
Found on the gigantic
Almond tree
Close to Egypt.
A big relive to find this
Leaf named believe,
None would understand my
Grieve,
Time we breath is brief
But rich with deceives.
I scatter the earth searching
For the right key to
Unlock this evening.
The forest is rough, but
I never try to play corny.
There are no bees without
Honey,
Significant rhyme to show
Man isn’t funny.
Hey must sweat to create
Wealth,
Torment sits close to involment,
Sun has no son, at this specific
Event he has to disconnect.
As your thoughts lay to rest,
Instantly, he would rust on
This bed.
Winning has no end
Neither does he have legs,
You should never beg to
Learn,
A marvelous teacher is
Willing to help.
I would perambulate
This forest till am rich
In content,
This is my pledge.
AKEWUSOLA HABIB.
The first automobile I ever had,
I bought when I was a sixteen year old lad.
Since it was numerous times pre-owned,
Its gears and innards groaned and moaned!
It was a nineteen-thirty-seven Ford Deluxe,
And as I recall it cost two-hundred and fifty bucks.
It had sixty-five horses under the hood.
To keep apace of traffic, I pedaled as fast as I could!
The great Barney Oldfield I tried to emulate,
As roaring about town I did perambulate!
I made intimate acquaintance with many a cop,
And as a result had some serious chats with my Pop!
It was known by its sobriquet, the Blue Goose,
And although I put it through lots of abuse,
It got me and my dates to movies and proms,
But I suspect it was a bane to some anxious moms!
Since my youth I've owned finer automobiles,
But I've never been prouder of a set of wheels!
The Blue Goose got me everywhere I wanted to go,
And compared to prices today, sure cost a lot less dough!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
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