Mark Toney's Picture Prompt
How quickly time transforms lives
from youthful days of innocence
to having lived through decades
of happiness and burdensome trials.
Fortunate, if in the eyes of our progeny,
we are appreciated as family.
If they see us and hear us,
it means we've earned a place in their lives.
One, that someday will be only a memory,
hopefully one that makes them smile.
One day I pray to meet
My children's children, with my mother's blue eyed glee
Seeing me
My deepest wish
Blessed to see my progeny
Love rich
My child
Hope to see ye
Smile
One day I pray to meet
Blessed to see my progeny
Smile
I remember when children were a blessing
For some, they seemed a burden to carry
Happy mine are all grown up, I’m confessing,
Now I have great-grandkids – it’s scary!
I’ll never have great-greats, I’m guessing.
Written October 12, 2022
We are progeny
of love and poetry...
Men and women
carnations and roses...
We are flower poets...
we ...
are strands ...
they, a strumming, resonant -
notes of an ambrosial
strain that tickles the tympans of
life and enlightenment ...
they are thistle on the breath of spring,
pappus of a bloom, passionate,
set for naught but fruitful
purchase -
ideality, their roots ...
tender tendrils wrapped 'round
dreams that know
no waking ...
seeds and songs let loose
from our hearts' deepest chambers,
with a boundless hope,
and an ache ...
unyielding.
I dream of simpler days
Of chivalry and blooming skirts
Of Innocence
When poetry flowed from the heart
And the love felt there was true
When joy was real…
Take my hand and lead me into the past,
Your past
Let me dream with you
walk in your memories
re-live your experiences
Hand in hand,
Show me the very sun, that lights up your sky
That voice, that smile, that twinkle in your eye
I know that look … Ascending into better bygone times
I love that look, I am ready
Teach me your wisdom
Tell me your tales, advise me
Let me walk that mile with you in your shoes
Let me bask in the glory of Your Life’s Legacy
-'poetry as legacy' poetry contest-
Some years ago,
having more than I needed
and time on my hands,
I deposited funds from
one side of the country
to the other.
Private, closet sized rooms,
sanitized for my protection,
visual stimulations upon request.
Today my progeny are everywhere,
and not once in all those years
so much as a father's day card
from the ungrateful little rug-rats.
They Should Have Been Old Men
David J Walker
They should have been old men by now
Rather than resting in the soft dark places
For so long
They should complain of the
Aches and pains of age with the rest of us
In the afternoon beerhalls as old men wearing
Ballcap identity cards
They should be speaking of grandchildren
Laughing in the backyards
As the happy progeny
And the politics that shall surely
Destroy us all
If not now, then eventually
They should be recounting with us
the glorious days of our youth
And the truth we shared in common
As we remember them
They should be old men
We sow discord,
Yet we're thirsty of peace.
We chant war,
Yet our ears call for euphonia.
Racism infests our world;
Tribalism invades like malaria.
Although we have diverse languages,
With love there is no barrier.
We attack the weak,
And leave them with dysthymia.
We hunt strangers like Tiger,
And replace euphoria with dysphoria.
Oh children of Adam!
We are one family.
Do away with xenophobia,
And put on xenophilia like a regalia
We are Adam's progeny,
But we separate ourselves from each other.
We are no more our brother's keeper;
Like Cain, we are diabolical.
Xenophobia feasts on our heart;
No sympathy for strangers.
We chew hate speech in the home;
We utter hate speech on media.
We look down on other race;
We must have forgotten Pangea.
Superiority complex spawns slavery;
It is psychological.
The disease of the strong is racism;
The disease of the weak is xenophobia.
Shut your door against tribalism,
And seek refuge with xenophilia.
this task to write thee (whom papa dust envy) difficult,
though aye selflessly assigned
thy beautiful daughter, whose sunny countenance
doth doubly (even donning sunglasses) blind
how charming, fixating, intoxicating...
as if an exquisite meal I dined
and lack of summoning chutzpah,
foie grassy us joie de vivre,
a handsome lad will inevitably find
cuz, a profuse heart wrenching
envious emotions seemed to sneak up from be hind
and said metaphorical sparring resulted
in figurative sadness with deep grooves a lined
the contours of my entire corporeal flesh and bone,
but tis no intent, casting darkness,
where your ecstasy under mind
my existence appears so bland opined
from this papa, whose aspiration
to peal back cerebral rind
doth spur only positive words
(courtesy of shari, andy, marleigh...)
a gordian knot within me gets en twined
to explore places far and wide
as planet earth doth wind
around the sun - millions of years from now
twill become resigned.
A butterfly caught
In a summer's hat
Released to freedom
His progeny flies
A butterfly caught
In a scientist's net
Penned, genus named
Now extinct species
This is a Naani Poem but suppose to be only one stanza..
Up and down the line
ahead or far behind,
reality is faithful to a vision,
that is a pathway of its very own.
Any truth engendered is unique;
parallel be damned.
Yet reciprocal of leadership.
it then confirms and celebrates
what was, what is, what is to come.
Always, birth and death
move forth and back in concert,
tumbling, resurrecting, tracing
paradise, then joyfully
advancing once again--and to what end?
Yours to ascend and yours to overcome.
Immortality is yours; the line is straight,
that eternal reciprocity assures your
right to speak, to carry on--the you,
the I, the pulsing, throbbing,
exultant mastery of presence
soaring into life. You are the stimulus,
the dream, the reason for it all.
And so, glasses raised, a toast
...to you!
~
They say the apple
doesn't fall
far from the tree,
but my spawn,
(a better poet
than me) is
an oak of
his own.
for Michael
Sweet creatures sprang forth from her mind.
How loved became her progeny,
For fate with fancy intertwined;
Sweet creatures sprang forth from her mind.
A man’s young wife she would not be,
and yet fulfillment she would find.
Sweet creatures sprang forth from her mind.
How loved became her progeny
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