lively lumbering lions
meandering muscular mammoths
nightfall’s notorious newts
oscillating ornery octopi
playful plushy platypus
quintessential quibbling quail
responsibly respecting restless reptiles
I must maintain I much prefer poems
which do amuse yet elucidate
with alliteration plus a fun pun
to enlighten and or educate
double meaning yes indeed
metaphorically speaking
a clever endeavour is all I need
for word-play tweaking
and no quibbling I refrain from reading
stream of consciousness scribbling
with neither rhyme nor reason
a smattering of words dribbling
altho' meaningless all the rage
scattering in wobbly lines
Pollock-like across the page
Well, the morons are in the race
A little behind but their keeping pace
Running at a close last
I see its the idiots they finally passed
don’t pull your bets: its not over yet
I see the imbeciles sneaking up on the left
Well the out comes unsure of a race finally won
But of the five judges only three have their thumbs
We look to the other judges in the show
Both of them quibbling so I don’t think they know
Now to the contestants to get their thoughts
Who really won and what was the cost?
The moron explains that the sweat their eyes
Prevented them from seeing, but know the judges don’t lie
While the idiot is sprawled-out on the ground
Their number 1 finger never went down
The imbeciles' eyes were lit by his grin
Their only comment was “so I really did win”
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Ideas conveyed in trails of semantics
Or moving over horse and bars in gymnastics
Tumbling, rolling, scribbling phonetics
Reeling, shrilling, scorching like ballistics
Quibbling over ideas and reams of whims
Rattling odd stories of soul's whines and trims
Yours is the power over lines and grims
Absolution or redemption atop one's dreamed
old gym hymns
quellulent quotatudes
quantify quirky, quiet
qualitative quibbling
quailing questionnaires.
Paula’s partying parrot paraded pridefully past Pete
Particularly poised Petunia pranced persimmon sweet.
Pete preferred Paul’s personality, plowing past Petunia’s pail.
Quizzable questionable quandary quickly confusing quibbling quail.
All nebulous dreams prospecting,
A hideaway in cloud atolls,
A nightly ocean, warmth awaiting,
In quibbling flow, to dawn's aperture
In spectra falling, spectral play crumbled,
Sojourner stars: their lamps parole
In a distance, behind amnesic lights
Razing autumn clouds, amber hues galore!
Cloud heaths, like bosom steaming
Of shying lovers in meeting pour
Whom expectations, sunrays in flurry,
The sky makes dawn red, and Sun allures
The air, in restless breeze cavorting,
By promised things which procure
A blushful pink, on allusion's canvas,
The whimsy sky in homely warmth pleasured
Into a fecund rosiness, its secrets goaded,
Flee from shadowed swathes: staid, demure;
And where played curt poem, autumn moon;
Is a sky by the the bold and brash secured
A good source of Bad Spelling
With the effect Quite Telling:
Sometimes in Serious Writing
‘Capitals’ and ‘Small’ Fighting:
Altering whole passages,
Garnishing The Messages:
Each ‘S’ in Mississippi
Innocently omitting,
Unthinkable letter P
To ‘Behavior’ submitting:
You strike them out he’s quibbling;
A prelude to ‘Plain Squabbling’ …
I’ve resigned from being his teacher
Rather Good Spelling Preacher:
‘L’ in ‘Halo’ not double
Double the ‘B’ in Stubble …
It’s a pain in The Eye:
‘The written made ‘Hopeless Lie!’
Along with their hundred siblings
Desiderate food without quibbling
Devote their intact time leaves nibbling
Molting delicate skin during every instar
Enduring all the pain and the skin scars
These little cuties emerge as flying stars
Stepping into the magical prism cocoon
Hanging upside down throughout sun and moon
Starving and fainting inside, never they swoon
Red, blue,orange, green and yellow
Flying colors are these little fellows
Spread wings,blow wind, play music mellow
Unfurling exuberance around
The kaleidoscope of colors abound
Are the queens of world sans crowns
August-20-2021
An only child, like I was, is
still looked upon askance?
As if I could force my Mom
and Dad to make more
babies, perchance?
Those poets here, who know
me quite well,
Can figure out my honesty, and
of course, that, I did tell!
I wanted a brother or sister,
oh, please?
It's not fun to have no one
to play with or please!
" You will have more things
in life," they replied.
But I kept after them, as I am
not one to be denied.
Alas, God decided to send me
not one sibling!
It taught me to get through
life, with no help or quibbling.
I had and still have friends,who are
like sisters and brothers to me.
Part of the music of this great earth.
In my heart's whisper,you will forever be!
3/11/2021
~3~
Well the morons are in the race
A little behind but their keeping pace
Running at a close last
I see its the idiots they finally passed
don’t pull your bets: its not over yet
I see the imbeciles sneaking up on the left
Well the out comes unsure of a race finally won
But of the five judges only three have their thumbs
We look to the other judges in the show
Both of them quibbling so I don’t think they know
Now to the contestants to get their thoughts
Who really won and what was the cost?
The moron explains that the sweat their eyes
Prevented them from seeing, but know the judges don’t lie
While the idiot is sprawled-out on the ground
Their # 1 finger never went down
The imbeciles eyes were lit by his grin
Their only comment was “so I really did win”
To Hate ... wrenching the world apart
Its forte is transgressing hearts
Pitting a sibling against a sibling
Starving children without quibbling
To Hate... in battles over God
Where 'Holy Wars' are nothing odd
To children renouncing moms and dads
To their young depraved and sad
To Hate... as evil wins the games
Spreading anguish in the name
Of faith and brotherhood of man
To Hate... it boasts the best laid plan
To Hate.. where in the final hour
Those seething souls who give it power
Will answer to the Lord above
For Hate is choosing... not to Love
Two women fighting over last cart
Unsophisticated, brawling, stubborn,
Short. Up rolls a knight, armor shining bright,
“Why d’ost thou fight til the death o’er singular
shining carriage? Mine has wings...fly ‘way,
take thee for thy miscarriage.
i shall tarry for one of my own.”
Their heads, ready to roll, explode, quibbling,
quizzical like two German Shepherds —
ears antennae’d for radar, heads cocked
ready to shoot, surprised, surrendering
to the prize — shoulders like majestic highs
walk into the sunset reprise.
The sun sparkles like diamonds
On the suited knight, night’s been saved
from a ridiculous fight.
What other maelstrom resides in the honey jar?
3/13/2020
Started Scribbling
Started scribbling;
On one more poem nibbling,
About my sibling.
Both me and my sibling
combined write poems.
The latest one which we
had written together was
called,"Rivalry."
Now we have been quibbling
about our sibling rivalry poem.
Whose name should go first
as the author?
Jim
Was it either babbling or
bibbling brook where they
wanted to water board the
crook and also at throw
the book after another
scheme up he had tried
to cook and like Trump
is how he does look?
Poor thing.
Carter Phipps has authored
"Evolutionaries:
Unlocking the Spiritual and Cultural Potential
of Science's Greatest Idea."
Hmmm. This is good rich brown rice,
and I want to stay nice,
cause I like his prime line
but I also like to scribble.
I thought science's greatest idea
was regenerating healthy outcomes,
with alternating slow-grow evolutions
and critical-event revolutions
emerging fertile polypaths
to further polyculturally healthy
wealth regenerations.
Evolutionary ways
toward regenerative means
and kinds balancing unkinds of nature
and DNA/RNA extensive kin.
If regenerate outcomes are evolution's medicinal purpose,
then scientists evolve emerging prescriptions
for nature's fertile unfolding of time.
And, by the way,
why "spiritual" potential of science?
and not "natural"
or is Phipps catering both together,
nondual co-arising emergence?
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