Magic waits in books
for young girls reading at night
in their cozy nooks.
In moon glow and candle light,
imagination takes flight.
As you run at speed
release, for fluttering flowers
printed on your skirt
THE PROJECTED VERSION OF ME,
THE PRINTED IMPRESSION OF YOU!!
Beep beep is the sound of the room,
when the fantasy turned into a fraction of pain!
Fine fine is the voice I heard,
to a freaky father who was in chaos for months!
Boringly bathing, naively speaking,
took years of my life doing nothing!
Never thought of being a nerd,
ever stopped of being heard!
I was ten past one, I heard the sound,
it wasn't the hell, wasn't the heaven!
Wandering like a vagabond,
wondering where I was born!
Smugglers noise sensed my breath,
neither dance nor defense I am skilled with!
The wetness of my underpants told me I am not okay!
If I wish to survive,
I wanted to drive!
The hoarse voice of a bruiser woke me up a little!
Fortunate or unfortunate,
I got to know I am being soaked and dripping in blood!
It gave me a hour of consciousness,
to explore how heaven looks like!
Hardly Harassment's Happen, However Hundreds die,
Hunger Of Feckless People Never Die!!
Send us one hundred and fifty dollars
And we'll send you a year's worth of gayly printed boxers
They will make you proud
Prancing around in a crowd
Oblivious to the stares you'll get at the doctors
Forever will their alacrity to commit development and success
To our country remain in our remembrance
Lets ajar the curtains of the world of the dead
To plead for their unfinished visions into our palms
Salutations of mountain Everest
Won't suffice their required respects
Their agog to feel and fondle success in their country is aggrieved
By their limited life span
Their names is being mention even in the world of the fishes
And the forest of apes
Poverty and under-development are agoraphobic in their midst
Their legacy of good vision and selfless attitude is crown king
Their pictures remain in our views
Our motherland will hail loud their names around the globe
Beneath and above the earth
Their works are kept in the book of forever-remembering
They are the printed footsteps of the past
Is the logic of a lioness the same as a dogfish? Or a display in a shop window of pretty pink kittens? Very definite is a definition of derived detail. Oh look over there. Quickly. The window in the furniture store has become quite alive. The chair is moving away from the table and the table leg is attempting to snare the chair but it isn't working. Oh such commentary of the wall clock. Standing proudly on the street. Admiring the sun clad people in shirts skirts and shorts. Ready for a little time in the waves. But waves are not wiry nor weaves. And a polish arriving is a main line attempt to break into a glamorous mermaid glass. And so it has a day in the country air to dash up and down. Chasing sticks. Sticks sticking salivating salty sprat of spray. But not in a yawn is a yard and no harsh hound is a hateful hasty hairbrush. But hairbreadth is said to be useful for a comb to attempt keep fit and therefore remain toned. Ha the undertones of an untamed unfathomable unicorn. Ha a beak of a silver cup chatting. Xxxx intoxication z z z z at nineteen peeled grape slices to zero ground driving drips. Z z z z z
Life isn't a white sheet,
It comes as printed plastic,
You can't write one damn thing,
You can only tear it in pieces,
Stretch it, deform it, burn it,
But no, it won't even make a paper aeroplane.
-Pin Dew (01/05/2017)
From the look out of a sun stained window
The bottom half of thick misshape clouds
resemble the motionless hilltop tree line
which stands beneath waiting to connect
Cradling mashed regret
from an inverted credence
The mystic pause between
overcast and sapling bleeds.
The strain of caged expression
leaves a trail of mocked kindred
As the sun sets on shush
Heel and toe mark the shadows.
Fear muzzles the sorrow
A dense moisture fills the air
Birds pass by unsettled
to the rumble of thunder.
One apology that is blind to see
Rough voiced with words that mean nothing to tress
And clouds with a space between that seems bottled
with connection breathing, "we can't be".
it's freezing/ the eyelids're drawing near pavement/
leaving the orange blurs on the street/
never thought that the ptinted kisses/
could be ever so tender and sweet/
The Highest Denomination U.S. Bill Ever Printed
By Elton Camp
If on Jeopardy! this question should arise,
The correct answer might be quite a surprise
“What’s a hundred dollar bill? will be wrong
To a larger bill that distinction does belong
Only 42,000 of them actually came to print
And for public circulation were never meant
It was in the 1960s that they quit being made
Outside government use, they were forbade
And only a few still in existence still do remain
A sample certain government agencies did retain
Realize that all 42,000 have been accounted for
Despite Internet claims, there simply are no more
Reports recur that more of them have been located
“We have a certificate of authenticity” is stated
They are nothing but cheaply-made counterfeit
It’s a scam and they aren’t worth the tiniest bit
Lives We Have Printed
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Lives we have printed
were written greatly with rhyming thrust.
When wreaths of laurels scented
beguile the richest dreams with lust,
fragrance glorified bows to trust.
Poetic form English Quintain: rhyme scheme a,b,a,b,b
Written for Brian Strand’s Poet Laureate contest
October 24, 2009
Books
Well read
On my desk
And by my bed
Friends
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