Aster of September, summer wanes.
The shining sky of dusk is drenched in splendor.
Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive.
Too soon, they purloin sun’s last rays.
Aster of September, Virgo aches.
You bloom till your breath is snatched away.
An oyster felt an uncomfortable itch
Caused by a stinging sand grain.
Ten fathoms deep, he slowly made - a pearl,
So that he was free from pain.
A tenacious Japanese ama, dove,
This mermaid beauty 'neath the tide,
Unbreakable, with just a knife and grit -
A pearl - she deftly pried.
A dream of a lovely fair-skinned lady,
Perfect shoulders, flawless skin -
A pearl - to hang between the snowy orbs,
Below her graceful chin.
A plan, a desperate man, a revolver,
Its handle made from - a pearl -
He'd purloin a huge oyster's record yield,
But that's not how his scheme would unfurl.
An oyster turns lemons to lemonade.
Conversely, a man, instead,
Takes that wise and appropriate adage
And flips it on its head.
Were I to swim to the edge of the sea,
what splendid scene should await for me?
Would I behold the legendary town
with glittering brick roads and king’s famed crown?
Could I uncover the truth in the seed,
win a place in the king’s absolute creed?
Anoint my body, in sticky sap drown,
paddle to Guatavita and dive down.
Arise from the waters clean as a bead,
to the fest of El Dorado I’d lead.
No other exists so gilded, hands down,
an existence of gold — building and gown.
I’d join with the Muiscan folk, indeed
take up residence and full life proceed
to build again a foundation so sound
that none could purloin the gold around.
World befallen by avarice and greed,
best forgotten I hardily accede.
To such golden place without up or down
I’d ever exist in paradise found.
Maybe its not too late to learn how to love and forget how to hate;
Quote by: Ozzy Ozbourne
Two sides of the same coin
one hinders you and has no livable value
the other is something you cannot purloin
I'm not a real poet
just as Pinocchio wasn't a real boy
but for our hearts and faith
we live life in full awareness coy
a revelation of ourselves in bold deploy;
with this arsenal of dreams and hopes
we yield a rendition beyond simple idea copes,
and we merge and blend inner secret expression
of who we truly are within our own egressions
living on the edge of time and space intervention;
so let us have our dreams
mindful enterprise and thriving schemes
as we purloin the words and phrases
pretending we contain the wisdom of the sages
in a sequence of interactive rhyme assuages;
so here it lay,
a poetic urge openly on display
that poetry lives in each and every one of us,
it's just a question of appreciation and trust
in the wordings that we say.
It’s joy that rules my pen most days.
So richly blessed, I’m one who prays
when life presents a daunting test
or obstacles obscure my quest,
attempting to purloin my zest.
I write of faith and family,
of birds I hear and blooms I see,
of friends I’ve known for fifty years,
of working days and kindred peers,
of loving life as sunset nears.
But life is more than penning rhymes
describing joyous, peaceful times
and basking in sweet memories.
My other muse does not appease
my need for peace and perfect ease.
When melancholy bids me write,
I tell of loss and heartbreak’s bite,
of lonely times that come and go,
of masks I wear to hide my woe
till joy brings optimism’s glow.
April 10, 2021
written for the Reveal Your Other Muse Poetry Contest
Placed 1st, premium contest
sponsored by Margarita Lillico
April 12, 2021
placed first in Brian Strand's All Yours (Apr 12) Contest
The snow is tumbling
tumbling down
descending humbly
upon the ground
frozen dandelions
herald the day
purloin my thoughts
along the way
silent soldiers
marching on
proclaim the coming
of the dawn
they dash and
dance and flit
and flow
a serene scene
this winter show.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
Slinking silently through the night
on tiny tipped toes, claws withdrawn.
He mustn’t sleep until daylight’s dawn,
prudently prowls, avoiding light.
Clever, cunning crones craft a spell
to purloin his priceless powers,
control them in Eve’s evil hours,
condemn powerless prey to Hell.
Hither, fine ferocious feline.
Soulfully sing your sacred song.
Whiskers hoary, lavishly long
subtle signs of ancient bloodline.
He will not succumb to witches
who wish to control, to command.
Here he makes a substantive stand
to thwart wicked witches’ wishes.
Cruel claws render stinging slashes
slitting through wrinkled, withered skin.
They shrilly shriek their dying din,
melting ghoulish, gray-green ashes.
Objective, Subjective,
which side of the coin
Will the story end up on,
its truth to purloin
“Dimensional borders”
the physicists scream
As life’s hidden fantasia
—plays out in a dream
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)
I have picked up a scent, something's been killed
And I can hear my feline foes growling still
I trot off to the scene with bloodthirsty zeal
Hoping to purloin a fresh meal
At the scene, four lionesses are having a feast
On the flesh of a hapless wildebeest
Others from my clan are gathering now
Laughing like crazy and ready to chow
The felines are not ready to give up their kill
A battle ensues and more blood is spilled
The lionesses have no choice but to flee
My laughter is chilling and filled with glee
Then I settle down to enjoy the feast
Having no concerns in the least
But two lions are charging in to settle the score
My bones rattle at the sound of their roar!
7-1-19
Pick a Title, Volume 6, Personification Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chose: The Hyena
Innocence lost,
virgin hearts often get paved over
by oppression gravel pressure
Hardened thoughts laid cover the privileged lily eyes,
and the tulip pupils of those in poverty
Unjust limestone mixture is hereditary poured
into chromatic fields of vexation
Pretty flowers of childhood purity
rarely get the adolescent chance to maturity see
the petal blossoming of their rainbow dreams
Buried under hateful concrete, their survival stem
still did with tender ease lovingly rose
Asphalt desires ugly ... Purloin dotted lines
couldn’t smother their unmarred souls
Beautiful flowers always will grow
between the stony cracks in the concrete
Pollen truth blown make it cement so,
even as the tilted mortar ground hardens more
My gentle sphere, fitted more, still.... I spared
Spattered words of heart, yet! Not purloin
Bit by bit are words of him, slowly cared
His circumspect steps I look, always in cocoon
Be like a Mickey not to add to your meek
Being sportive and an erect stamen, could you be?
Hand creativity and thinking, would you keen?
Pals and swarms indeed, are there to feed
Classy swell of your cheek, glassy bite is seen
Shy! Hands rub on his chin, even without no need.
I know a hush-hush, your finger up to scratch the head,
A cool gentle sphere you are, that's the world I learn.
An island of memory forms in the
vast oblivion.
Emotions froth with warmth. Minds
are connected
through the broadband of nostalgia.
An everlasting
get-together of old classmates. They
wage war against
vices. They sob over sorrows that are
not theirs. Pics
of triumph get applause, while envy’s
horn protrudes
from a pit. Origin of congratulations
and consolations
is from the same key. Some purloin
from philosophy.
One buddy’s a marauder of wits. This
WhatsApp group is
a life jacket to escape from drowning
in ennui.
First printed in The Literary Hatchet.
Uttering sugar-coated words is one dimension
Promising to love is one aspect, we must love
Walking on the head is crazy, we must embark on the mission
That proves our readiness and willingness to give
Stacks of moons and stars we promise
In our haste to gain social mileage
In the wake of the longing we increase
On our Facebook page
Cos promising belittles the dignity
Inherent in a spirit of true sacrifice
Which gives the little it can both here and at infinity where affinity
Traverses promise chasms and holds that it doesn’t suffice
To raise hopes on sentimental slopes we intend to dash
At the earliest opportunity we exploit then cut and run
Like the yellow cowardice we flash
When partners demand more than the fun
We long to access in the social process
Where we profess to give much
Deliver less than we access in terms of genuine progress
We purloin as soon as hallowed happiness from others shamelessly we snatch.
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