virtue is nothing claimed
nothing but acceptance
weary roads of unstable
to reach out to my mother
inherited sadness, taken-on imbalance
derangement of two, nobody understood.
the so-called wise woman said "ignore,
ignore the signals"
how could i be so ruthless
and oversee the madness
tying us through this long hall of the past
no one takes a step
neither could walk away
to break the curse and be brave
inherited cowardice, taken-on petulance.
I am poetry
An unheard whisper
Shadows
Conspiring
A tear
Soaked in laughter
Anger
Molded in metaphor
Humor
Wielding the axe of angst
Whispering
A farewell kiss
I am poetry
The invisible heart of language
Beating a near silent drum
A quiet vibration
Teasing the moonlight
A cool breath of air
Drawing lovers closer
A metered heartbeat
Quickened in passions petulance
I am poetry
A dream yet unformed
Stirring the ink of dreams
Weaving a wondrous web
Awaiting unsuspecting words
The waves kissed the shore
again and again and again
the waves kissed the shore
every second or so
to remind her
how much
she is loved.
-petulance poetry
To say you would unblock someone if they can be civil
is a crock of BS that I'd categorize as narcissistic drivel.
It's just another veiled shovel full, meant as a dig
but it's quite clear that some people don't give a fig!
Oh, the impudence of one who has an arrogant nature.
The petulance of one without disciplined nomenclature.
van Gogh did not have to sign his work, it is immediately recognizable
he had a petulance for utilizing emphatic pointillistic brush strokes
van Gogh danced to his own flute, giving away all of his worldly goods
“they think I am a mad man because I wanted to be a true Christian”.
He had an up and down life, but his downs were deeper than most.
His paintings, signed Vincent, exhibit a madness that exudes a rare brilliance.
He was an artist who threw his feelings into every canvas he painted.
An artist who died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, unfortunately.
I’m a firm believer in setting goals in life,
Then striving for attainment every day
Avoiding undue petulance and strife,
Balancing time between work and play.
Looking to a future of accomplishment
Building on foundations you carefully laid,
Not always seeking acknowledgment
For everything you do you’ll not be paid.
Often, a good feeling inside is sufficient
No tangible reward will be necessary,
If in your heart, you’ve done a good deed
Within yourself you’ll feel salutary, [and]
Think about it, that’s all you really need.
Written October 9, 2022
This is who I am; I achieve peace in simplicity.
No petulance in my kind heart but faithfulness.
This is who I am; I suppress sorrow from others.
And smiled notwithstanding my gentle sadness.
Also, love life, its sweetness, and its bitterness.
The lovely sky is all I desire, for my relish fullness.
And assign my life's rosy colors into poems.
I intone alike rare birds and dream over prowess.
unfathomable
all contact lost
beyond reach of umami
petulance 'tis impenetrable
sonar blips blubbed, unopened as dead mail
pings re-echoed dispelled, quashed
peripheral smiles cast-off in scows
shipwrecked eyes lashed with umbilical sighs
all at sea, adrift hand-paddling
willy nilly circling in coracle cradle corral
round and round the driftwood dry-rot
spins in whirlpool hole, nebula black
awaken not stirred the cast-away
alights from sleep alone, prone and dripping wet
self-marooned, ring-fenced on atoll beach
in cuckoo's nest
I'm tired of
the preening
the posturing
the posing
I'm fed up with
the pretending
the petulance
the pessimism
Time for a new mirror
~ or perhaps a new me
Time past
Now that I have stopped writing I can say
I never cared for rhyming poems, that tend to make me irritable.
I have tried to overcome my petulance
by not eating a bottle of aspirin but the furthest I got was haiku
which need not rhyme.
I can´t stop my head from writing sometimes it composes poems
in my sleep which I could have written down, but refrain from
doing since I have stopped my verbal creations.
From my window, I can see the petrol station not a work of art,
but I can see children splashing about in the pool and long for home.
I prefer to see children at a distance, near they make me nervous,
which is wrong I remember my childhood with trepidation
Arguing adults and bombs that fell at night, a flash of light scanning
the sky and the darkness were total. For bathing children, life is better,
but they too fear the adults.
I came in to your apartment entrance
In someone's clothes to celebrate a happy
Circumstance.
Even though you didn't finance
This reliance
There was complaisance
No definance
Because of your continuance
I soon had dominance.
When you didn't have me you showed petulance
And discordance.
You had no chance
Of deliverance
From the death dance.
Gone from your face is the radiance
Of life as the ambulance
Team loaded up your body with no utterance.
You sent a message loud and clear as life
Goes on that there are people who will always
Want to enhance
And advance
Their life for an empty significant extravagance.
O' flatulence
tis human
to air
*co-written with my hubby
Restless rebel, control the ball on the gregarious ground
Looking within and hooking dignity to the home
Where a restive riposte resurrects the meandering mound
Detriment and its cement sediment groom
In search of answers and cancers
Growing without control and throwing mud on the room
That without mercy plays into the hands of bouncers
Primed to jettison the happiness for which you crave
At the time and in the clime where pesky pouncers
Storm forth and chide the wonderful wave
That steers stability and versatility in the home where
Your truculence and petulance dig the grave
Where your treasure trove and freedom measure dare
To resist the onslaught of seething thoughts brought on board
To confuse order and disorder in your home, slaying vestiges of care
In the wake of asinine attitudes that accord
Dignity and sanity to restlessness which your home can’t afford
As your restive riposte resurrects the meandering mound
Restless rebel, for the sake of stability, control the ball on your gregarious ground.
twerking minds rain,
sins are a-flame
aloof corset a-blame,
and fame...
Grandfather
I know
You wanted
The best for me
So I will take your advice
And leave alone
The petulance and vice
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