"The Flipside"
We write
our hearts out
we pull
the catch back in
slowly,
they read,
we think,
too fast
swallowed
in the hollowed out
hallowed hearts measured
ounce per ounce
we write
our hearts out
stamping footprints
obstinance turning
ourselves
inside, out
stone washing
ourselves
inside
out
written on
lines
wrung out,
expelled
pegged left
hanging
right
left
without
missives,
no doubt
on the flip side
of eternity
gravity
grounds us
toes
touch the ground
neck and face
upwards
downwards,
still life
breathing
eyes watching,
reading, waiting
the mystery
we believe,
or, we sit still
debating
the earthly
volume
a boulder
pulley drawn
backwards
forwards
backwards
in quarters
we are quartered
like poetry
we are,
washed
in clouds
inside
out,
we are
on the
flipside ;
waiting
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
This is a poetry eerily populated with ghosts and mummies and zomboid creatures who go on living though dead from love.
— Patrick McGarth*
ZOMBOID CREATURES
no way out of the well…ceaseless pulley.
forlorn, deep is the grave.
for the dead, love is a bully
no one can save.
doped up, tears dry in somnambulant night.
bones rave toward the cliff.
a blind man’s bluff, i’ve lost my sight -
this zomboid stiff.
love dropped out; i’m eaten up with her scent -
bouquet of floral bath.
i pursue - a ghostlike lament,
off beaten path.
she sat upon the mound, of fresh dug soil,
wrapped up in her own grief,
a mummy terrified - a foil…
aperitif.
1/7/2023
Writing Challenge - Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme Z word: Zomboid
Used Howmanysyllables and rhymezone
*Obtained from Merriam-Webster
I am the tangible wind
the subtle breeze whispering
passionate hints throughout
uncharted mounds dancing
beneath the infamous sun
feeding hungry hearts gathering
missing pieces holding time
in place withered by tainted bliss
I am the rapture magnified
brilliantly over land and sea
a multitude of languages spoken
without listening without hearing
I am the gully the levy the pulley
of souls dazed captured and released
between the meeting of the mind
kissing the shores time after time
True Story
So, I wanted to hang a birdfeeder the bear cannot get to
I took some rope, tied a rock on the end of it, to throw over a high branch
I kept missing, realizing I lack the athletic ability I had when I was young
After many times trying, I threw it again and the rock flew off!
So, I tied the rock tighter and threw it high again
This time, the entire rope flew over the target branch, onto the ground!
So I tied the other end to another tree and I threw it yet, again
- ALAS - IT WORKED! –
I lowered the rock, tied the birdfeeder on and pulled it up like a pulley
Now, I have one out back and out front; the birds will be happy!
Heidi Sands
5/21/22
The majority of mine lxiii years
expended delving deep into imagination,
yours truly escaped, loosed, thwarted...
reality courtesy bookland
roaming cerebral cortex terra firmae
did not amp pulley satiate
seemingly depression found me
(an uncompetitive, oversensitive,
intuitive, contemplative bookworm)
with scrunched pate,
a day short and a dollar late
one dime a dozen lad
hood scrimp and scrape,
a familiar pattern typified fate
viz - hand to mouth bleak
how zing existence aye equate
extant throughout three score
plus three years date
journeys round el sol,
this varsity schlepper, procrastinator,
malingerer did create
current emotional state
mottled with sea henna tint
financial, emotional and
psychosocial characteristics stint
aye serum eyes while
in utero the blueprint
indelibly etched analogous
brand York Peppermint
also analogous to musician
recording tracks upon primed glint
ting digitized compact disc
clear polycarbonate plastic substrate,
a reflective metallic layer,
and a clear protective coating
of acrylic plastic
breakable as flint.
....................................................O
Bluebell
I fall in love
with your purple splendor
that pulls me sternly to your tide
like the pulley pulls the bell to its stride
I adore the marvel of God
My faith
Bloom
30 June 2021
Ring My Bell Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Anderson
Only Bullies are pulleys pulling people down to pride themselves up
to the mountains high, for better view of our sky.
I’d rather lower myself for love to be lifted
since love is low because bullying is high
since love is low because bullying is high
I’d rather lower myself for love to be lifted
to the mountains high, for better view of our sky.
Only Bullies are pulleys pulling people down to pride themselves up
"Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind."
Nathaniel Hawthorne
I sneer at grandfather clock, standing in the hall,
listening as his ticking, leaves my anger spent.
I long to bind his hands and make time crawl,
and if that's considered a sin, I will never repent.
His old brass pendulum swings much too fast,
like a gossip, repeatedly wagging his tongue.
Oh, how I would love to make him gong his last
so I'd have eternal peace when his bell is wrung.
His infinite chime persists at the top of each hour
and in that moment I feel recurring pain.
I must get past the relentless echo of his power.
Headaches from his hammering drive me insane!
Not in the present, but I swear that one day soon
I'll find a way to remove his pulley and chains.
No longer will he gambol that annoying tune,
a cadenced rhythm in redundant refrain.
Time - 8 Word Challenge
Sponsored by A Dear Heart
Posted on July 3, 2020
If the words were forgotten and there's no one to speak
After you're measured in white custom
Resting in silence that will never be revealed
Down with the pulley, inside your nesting you are sealed.
Let me remind myself of the forgetfulness I had
While I look up to you I know you're not mad.
I didn't noticed that I know eversince
All your without presence is not an absence convince.
Those times I wrote about facts of my opinion
Like I visibly see truth out of composition
Slapping right in my face- it doesn't stop there
Leaving is not an option; everywhere is nowhere.
Yes for everything is about me not you
In a matter of reasoning we are two
Letting you go is holding myself too
You may not understand now but someday you'll do.
In this unknown world of knowledge hilly,
You came as a Mozart in disguise dolly
To teach all teachers how to teach fully;
Benefitted though sad – not meeting daily.
Daily meeting not possible, gave a pulley
Of google drive and we see, hear our folly.
Giving a chocolate, taking note of us, O Alley.
A corollary we get makes us gorgeous frilly
No obfuscatory with him: sometimes chilly,
Times cold, but a hunky-dory, a true deli.
An accurate hortatory for English holy,
Teaching precise pronunciation alley
To improve us from state utter nugatory.
Encouraging, gave chances to all my folly;
Novel, pioneering, predicatory. Never did dally.
Blessed to have such a trainer as lovely lily
Had been an orator, excellent energetic filly.
Marwadi University is blessed with hilly –
The persons so high, so intelligent, O Molly!
Wish to have such a guide in my life daily
So that saccharin be added to life’s chili
And lethargy, fatigue, lassitude goes dully.
Let it be Surat or Morbi or Rajkot or Delhi
Dhanajay, Viral and Brij sir be with me fully.
percussion hailstorm
my ears no longer bored
daydreaming about oceans
mixing memories
during power outage thoughts
an escapade my uber sunshine
nodding my head with eyes closed
to some rare 90s hip hop
candy sunglasses tastes like cinnamon
watching lightning threaten me
as i sit under a tree
remembering things like the fiddlers three
now the wind is a flute
from a funky 70s jazz song
my emotions floating on air
now its day 17
the sky has turned purple
paper thin has turned to quick thick
i find myself smiling fully
for good ole music i am a bully
now i push the Good Weight to the Pulley
Napoleon’s men marched on Moscow
And promptly perished.
So did Hitler’s men!
Once the US wanted to ‘save’ Vietnam,
Made life miserable—
For both Americans and the Vietnamese.
Then, Iraq grew restless
And wanted Kuwait back.
For China,
It was Tibet then, Taiwan now,
Anything else tomorrow,
Without which how can the nation rest in peace?
For Pakistan it is the valley.
Back home, now a motif,
Now a topos, some rallying point.
It is all déjà vu, isn’t it?
Perhaps it’s the Law:
Let them be rich and restless;
Or poor and weary!
***
Yesterday , I woke up frozen
In sorrow cubes
Scattered on the ground
To trample underfoot
The certainty of sprouts
Rooted in the fear of crowd
That is sorry , tired
Of the designs of a dream
Of peace and freedom
Embedded in the pulley
Of brotherhood acts
Today , I woke up frozen
In cubes of certainty
Which the sun no longer melts
Even if elevated
At higher temperature
The reality of the scourge
In cubes of certainty
I will face the sober of the whip
i'd wandered again staring
into streams of livid pools waving
raptures of rushing currents startled
beyond such graveness however tempted
to explore even more than before i'd missed
your pondering about awaiting my dashing exit
away from the flock that scattered sparingly
my temperament craved so much more
why the gravity along led me by surprise
with curiosity and grace your demeanor
seemed to shield my immature nature
calmly beyond a single sphere a certain
chastisement lingering gently between
the stone pavement a white stick hidden
gestures being heard only throughout
the babbling brooks gnashing against
large pebbles into solid foundations
henceforth creating distance an yet forming
a pulley blending mind body and soul into
thrashing madness mingling timelessly chafed
and bruised chanting i'm back
Like an inner child running wild
Where age now tells me no
An ancient beautful fame, now
In an old woman's frame
Like a spirit so grand
Just waiting to expand
Locked in it's infant cage
Waiting for death to turn the page
Like a butterfly snug
In a cocoon getting ready
The shell is crisp
And wings are spreading
Like expressing myself fully
Raising myself with pen as pulley
Breif but universal
All with in the parameters of a poem
Screaming "Let me out!"
(A rewrite of Caties poem)
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