You have come mightily upon my brows,
Yet blessing my folly when I had cried nude and
Watery,
My vagitus loud with the frenetic timbre of wartime
You have swept through the corridors of
Silhouetted stalks, fanning lean, vertical leaves that shield
The nakedness of the African seasons —perched
And soggy,
And at waking time, when November bares its
Thunder-whetted fangs with the ruthlessness of a Puff adder.
It is cold and skin-whitening.
Streaks of flaking, dancing rods descend on femurs un-pumiced.
Dehydrated throats accompany ancestral hymns on the
Humming bees’ melody, stifling the courage of the Tchagra.
Drab, and cracking the serrated softness of heels and
Stale, moss-ridden kernels, the waves of the storm,
Blinding, besiege our common sempervirence,
Long lost among the blurred firmamental gaze
And straw-gold material upon this prostituted earth.
Snuggly warmth comes by the power of woodsmoke
When dawn, shy from the raillery of the rising sun,
Hastens to the coronation of sacred rain beyond
Our limits —a pomp of relegated and flustered seasons.
At this stage in world history...Are the past acts of demonic ritual events still being debated as relevent
to causing detriment to humanity.? Was it harder to be obedient God of the Holy Bible.? Or see and know what we see and hear of in the twenty first
Century.? Do we embrace such.? Depravity upon depravity..Obscene teachings in schools and in media sources that have medium overseers.' How does it work? Whrn the Creator is relegated to a figure of
Myth.' And we do not reach for renewal.'
Soaking up the sights, the smells
A drizzly autumn day
Stepping through. Unheard thereafter
For myself, to answer:
"What became of him?" Rumourous.
"That door of mist, beyond?
Relegated to realms, ghostly
For lost souls, none can free?"
I emerge from echoes, from a dungeon so deep,
To erase the ink of inner turmoil you keep.
Thy mollycoddled soul, relegated to bits,
Here's tulsi for the bruises where life's pain sits.
I'm the crucible's fire, shaping an alchemist’s design,
An emotional release, making every space divine.
Having counted wooly sheep
was woken from a deep delta sleep
in the middle of the night
thought I'd heard a pig snort
but no that can't be right
tho' kicked out of bed
and landing on my head
knew where I stood
for delegated to the floor
then relegated to the room next door
when in no uncertain terms she said,
'You're sawing wood, you snore!'
Not as such a silk purse,
but a sow's ear would be worse.
Not so much a pig in a poke
(jiggery-pokery),
more a poke at a pig in a joke
(piggery-jokery).
All in all,
Sy-hokery!
No one knows what he had done,
but the curse could not be undone.
Could it be, when he was a child,
by some witch, he was beguiled?
Bound, he was, to a life of insanity,
relegated to mindless inanity.
Whatever was his awful crime,
he could only speak in rhyme.
What makes it so much worse
is that he cannot write free verse.
You say see it your way
Trying hard to convince
Me repeat what you say
Each word I painfully wince
Memory has sharp twists
Heavy mind candidly speaks
Reasons counted off lists
Your narrative has leaks
Nonsensical tremors control
The levers of guilt pulled
Relegated to a desperate role
Your idea of brainwashing sold
Alone!
Big Cat is trapped inside a cage.
With every passing hour, up goes its rage
Deeper is its growl,
And more menacing is its scowl
The fight is strong as it yearns to be free
Far, far away from this shameful place of captivity
Out of this place
Out from gloom and disgrace
The beast scratches and claws incessantly, but to no avail
Distant ephemeral reflections of a savanna, its sullen heart longs to bail
A king of valor relegated to a diminutive, cold space
No grasslands for play and no prey to hunt; trapped in a foreign place
Soon the cacophonous growl wanes into a feeble murmur
The beastly, commanding sound has lost its ferocious fervor
Bewildered, weary, and defeated, it starts cryin'
No place to roam and far from home, in the cage lies the lion
How did he, she, they, and them come to be?
Diminished, reduced, and ignored in society.
Relegated, or perhaps delegated, to busy city streets and desolate byways,
Street souls somberly paint landscapes with a myriad of overlays.
Barely decent soles, or none at all, cover these souls' feet,
Yet they endure daily tramples on sordid sidewalks and weather-beaten streets.
Cold nights meet cold stares in the daytime,
Oftentimes, the human connection is disjointed and can be quite unkind.
How did he, she, they, and them come to be?
No one knows, but compassion and love should be the reality.
Believing
Miracle Man
5/26/2023
Start with doable goals and in faith believe,
for greatest knowledge we can ever achieve.
If rooted in choices from everyday living,
taking risks isn’t bad; most are forgiving.
One only excels when right conditions prevail,
so know your target and pay attention to detail.
If something isn’t working be bold and retry,
we’re relegated to failure when we cease to try.
The loftier the goal, the greater the price tag,
Losing your focus is like raising a white flag.
We’re assured of failing when effort is lacking,
So focus is vital if you think you’re slacking.
Focusing on goals helps make them forthcoming,
Believing is mile one on the road to becoming.
Here we go again -
another crazy form to try - this time
a 'Yabba Dabba Do' or so it's called.
The jury's out; I can't say I'm enthralled.
I've not made a connection to the rhyme
or figured out how best with such a silly form to dabble.
I guess it truly is no more absurd
than having wooly mammoths pumping gas,
or dinosaurs and humans there en masse,
or roasting pterodactyls like they're birds.
Wilma, Fred, Barney and Betty, relegated to the past;
methinks this jab will do the same, and will be my first and last.
----------
Probably ought to give it a better shot, but this one is a 'Yabba Dabba Do'
12 lines: xabba xcddc ee, with 5/10/10/10/10 15/10/10/10/10 15/15
The form description at poet's collective was not that clear -
repeated the abba in the pattern, but then the example did not
When I threw the wee unhandy gloves away,
The smiling little cold hands watched the display,
And the clock struck ‘high five’ and chimed ‘hooray’
Putting gloves on small hands can cause much dismay,
No more small fingers to get stuck or go astray,
When I threw the wee unhandy gloves away
Mitts slide gracefully upon small hands without delay,
Grown-ups - think of the precious time saved in a day,
And the clock struck ‘high five’ and chimed ‘hooray’
Before, ten minutes less coffee time – not okay!
I wrote to my local politician that same day,
When I threw the wee unhandy gloves away
In a fiddly box little fingers cannot sway,
With Mitts there is space for growing hands to sashay,
And the clock struck ‘high five’ and chimed ‘hooray’
Gloves relegated to the bin to stay,
Consignments of mittens now on their way,
When I threw the wee unhandy gloves away,
And the clock struck ‘high five’ and chimed ‘hooray’
Date: 05/01/23
Contest: Of what use are gloves to fingers that only understand mittens
Sponsor: John Lawless
The very essence of my cells vibrate with exuberance for his love, grace, kindness, and blessings.
In conversations during the day, the creator is my roots and faith in the doctor that provides all my dressings.
An innate source residing in the heart, the center of all centers, and connected to everything.
We all as one, are here to experience, develop and expand to find your loving purpose for which angels celebrate and sing.
We all are one humble ingredient, each a drop from the eternal, an ever-expanding ocean of abundance in union with all.
There are no lines of demarcation, never a disconnection, no delineation, and never a separation, and will always answer the call.
The veil has been lifted uncovering the degradation of separation which must be eliminated.
Those dark forces that rule, manipulate, and control the masses will be uncovered and disgraced, and new positions in government will be relegated.
Beneath stars, moon crescent
friends naughty, decent
agreed to meet in an instant
no agenda, no time limit
no titles, no inferiority insult
all candid, all explicit
all soaking in buddy spirit
Emotions unlocked
Memories rebooted
Serotonin unleashed
Life battery recharged
Enthusiasm rejuvenated
Bliss Therapy engulfed
Personal grief relegated
Pure joy elevated
Friendship incense burnt
fragrant smoke spiralled
enveloped stars, moon
stars winked, moon blushed
signalling our re-union
no less than their constellation
Stars re-aligned, formed pattern
In sky flashed divine visual, a lesson
'Friends are heartbeats, keeps you alive'
__________________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta
Around 2004,
my family and I started
going on vacations to Erie
twice a summer.
Accompanying us on these excursions
were the Jenkinses--
family friends who were more like actual family.
In addition to our typical week at the beach,
they joined us for a sneak peek weekend
earlier in the summer
where we stayed at a hotel by the airport.
We'd sit on the lawn,
watching planes,
us kids running around,
the adults drinking beer.
The outside pool was
our home.
Cole & I would jump into
the deep end ad infinitum,
never ceasing to find the utmost joy
in so simple an act.
He commented on the blonde
strands of hair on my head,
I lied and said that was my natural color--
just wanted to be blonde.
But now the hotel is relegated only to memory;
the long, entrance hallway;
breakfast area where I burnt my mouth
by sipping hot chocolate
through a straw,
like a dumbass,
in 2005.
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