the invitation was put into my house anonymously
come follow me
no signature
I had no idea whence it came
my guesswork could be spot on or spot off
I thought I should accept it
since they figured out how to get into my locked house
how would I get my acceptance accepted?
it was a quandary
Call me fickle
no doubt about it
I’m in a pickle
a firkin full of gherkin
quite a quandary
tho' still a dill
the question isn’t funny
it’s ridiculous
others may tickle us
yet I don’t see
for love nor money
why I can’t tickle me
As Neanderthals, you must know
that, wherever you may go,
you will be hunted by the blokes
who describe themselves as modern folks.
With culture and books, they're so chill -
until...they begin to kill.
The wheels fell off my thingamajig
as a thingy
came loose in the whachamacallit
or perhaps it was the doodad
on the wotsit
which was the cause to stall it
and it'll take a few odds 'n' sods
plus a new doodah
and some hoo-ha
to make the gizmo
or doohickey
go again so
not to take the mickey
but prep the whole whoop-de-do
to look like new
I'll probably plop
for purchasing the gubbins
or bits and bobs
in a thingamabob
shop
and possibly more
at a whatnot
store
an enigmatic
world
of solitude
introspection
hints
with
inklings
suggestions
indications
sign
&
signals
intimations
insinuation
innuendos
with
a
trace
or
touch
a
tinge
to give
a
taste
of
intrigue
to
contemplate
the
allegoric
symbols
&
hidden meanings
woven
with
undisclosed truths
unsaid
for
the viewer
to weigh
upon
the scales
of deja vu
experience
The xenop* is a kind of frog
That loves a sub-Saharan climate.
And though I don't like being terse,
I must cut short this froggie's verse,
'cause I've encountered the poet's curse…
With xenop,
Like orange,
There's not much to rhyme it.
*Pr: zee-nop
Mumbling, stumbling, inaudible rambling,
The pity, the pain all but Biden now feel,
A spent man bereft, resorting to grumbling,
The fishing line out for opponents to reel.
How did we now reach this insufferable place,
Where a once wily Joe spun his fine web,
Enticing, enveloping with street gotten grace,
His mock Irish banter making folks fall in step.
The ravage of age, that indiscriminate scythe,
Lacking compassion, blind in its grasp,
Cutting down poppy's both lowly and high,
Never once stopping to ponder or ask.
So it falls to the man, with loving advice,
To know when to pen those few final chapters,
Leave it too late and it's a roll of the dice,
A legacy lost and good name in tatters.
Blind pride a sheer folly at most times in life,
Obscuring the path that shows us the way,
The one to traverse with safety not strife,
Avoiding its grasp, not falling its prey.
Country the goal before lowly ambition,
Wisdom and service the call for each day,
This is America's greatest tradition
The foundation from which no leader should sway.
light
waves
cycle
in
their
multitudes
indigo
violet
red orange
yellow
green blue
are but just a few
God's rainbow
ever present
promise
to me & you
intense
subtle
intriguing
a complex
stimulii
subjective
& selective
heard
felt
& tactile
comlementary
colour
to colour
Feel you not, inside as out
Pretty, til so wrapped about?
Winks? Kindly worded reminders?
Kisses? "No; still left in doubt".
What goes up should always come down
The reason the laws of physics have shown
What takes birth should someday surely die
In the precepts of biology the reasons lie.
Nature functions following formulated tenets
Life drifts in time like cloud of changing facets
The dreams we spin the storm surge they face
Some live, some blow away, we can’t ever trace.
We toil and try to take life wherever we want
Can’t reach the goal for the bridges get burnt
The reasons of wreckage we can’t reckon at all
That’s when we hear the sound of fate’s footfall.
The mind likes to fly on fragile wings of free will
It can’t change the shape of life, it lacks the skill
Unsure, if it’s an arty artifact of intelligent design
Or an ordained expression of ancient coded gene.
_______________
October 25, 2022
Contest : A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsored by : Brian Strand
1
When u don't know what to feel, think, say
"Thy Kindom Come, Thy Will Be Done" is prayer
2
Repeat slowly, Thy Kingdom Come. Watch within
Savor: Thy will be Done. Not ours, the King's
He is a King, He has a Kingdom & Court
It has word power, to transplant & transport
From this earth-bound domain, even when one can't
Understand Thy Will, why it should be done ...
Thy kingdom come ... The urgency, the waiting
A Kingdom, a Kingdom, it's no political thing
To get the big prize I have to die
I can get myself there rapidly or die a slow painful death.
It’s my choice; my parents did not choose wisely.
They both had lingering, sad, painful “I want to die” deaths.
Unfortunately, by the time they got there
There was nothing they can do about it.
Heaven is the prize right?
If I off myself, some people think I will not make it.
I will go to the frying pan place instead.
Not being super sure about it, I consider it.
Part of me knows if I get older and infirmed
My children will resolutely keep me alive
even though I feel dead.
I do not want that!
To go now
or to wait and see
That is the question.
And what if there is no heaven?
Is being a particle of dust in the air the prize?
Will a cat or dog chase me at least when that happens?
Such a quandary.
I'll never have you, but i must find a way
The longing, the dreaming, it deepens each day
I made a decision a long time ago
To never look back, though I'm missing you so
I can't let it go, all I need is a taste
But if reach for that moment, it will all be in haste
So how do I live with this aching desire
When my attempts to extinguish just add fuel to the fire
October 4, 2021
Midst quandary in choosing what is best
Among varied alternatives offered
My soul seeks God, Author and the Source of light
Toward optimum functional pursuits.
Perplexed with guilt causing unrest of heart
Condemning me to languish in failure
I beseech the Saviour for His mercy
Toward another start with renewed peace.
Overcoming confusion woes and doubts
My faith clings to the Lord Who illumines
Anchored upon His immutable truth
Toward steadfast commitment, smiting doubt.
Toward triumph against dilemma’s pain
I thank Christ for stewardship’s wisdom* gain.
*James 1:5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
September 29, 2021
Modified quatorzain with blank verse and couplet
2nd place, " 'Q' Contest, NEW ONLY"
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 10/4/2021.
What's a mother to do now?
Monster of a dilemma.
Shield or give up young son for
Fatal hit and run?
"Q" Contest, New Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Quandary
Date written: 09/27/2021
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