Caffeine vapor billows
blowing with the raindrops
the ceiling says
my body wanders
to a part of nowhere
glowing like a warm air
as if it were true
The reflection of the latte under the yellow light
the foam forms a crescent
like the curve of your smiling eyes
Petrichor tonight is so foreign
because only the gentle wind
between your body is familiar to me
I begin to enjoy the thunder
thundering beats
rhythmically
with the same beats
like an album cliché at my fingertips
jumping from time to time
Raindrops intertwined with nostalgia
melancholic rhythm
irony and romance
instantly combined
now flowing away
Peerless paintings mystically mingle.
Bells of my shrines rhythmically jingle.
Hues of heaven and earth amalgamate.
Logic and love lawlessly agitate.
I see Morpheus moving around my mind.
Celestial scenes are craftily designed.
With wings of poppies Minerva hovers.
Saraswati showers seamless powers.
Monsoons recover all drought-driven cracks.
Nightmares consummate with sweet-dream climax.
Ripples, in the lake of my mind, stir on.
Blissfully, myriad rainbows are drawn.
We poets, writers, misfits of the world
like artist or mystics or troubadours
use our gifts to give insight to others
we offer more pulling back the covers.
We did not fit in with most of our peers.
When young we were often taunted to tears.
We often were quiet in our own zone.
And most of the time you’d find us alone.
We’re awkwardly honest most of the time.
Our minds think rhythmically also in rhyme.
Counting syllables can be frustrating.
Keep the lines in each verse relating.
Through each medium the end is the same.
Sharing our thoughts is the name of the game.
Andy O’(Snaps fingers rhythmically) The air hangs thick with midnight blue/And the city hums a graffiti tune/ a voice cuts through, a velvet blade/Andy O’, where stories are made/Poet, Musician, Broadcaster's soul/Navigating the sonic scroll of a downbeat that will never fade/KUVO Jazz, a haven's light/On Sunday nights, banishing the uptight/The Nightside a whispered promise kept/Where restless minds and tired souls have wept/And found solace in a whispered rhyme/A tapestry woven, defying space and time/Mr. Andy O’ cradles the jazz, a smoky embrace/And invites the poetry to find its place/A conversation, deep and low/Of saxophone sighs and verses that flow/The ongoing relationship, raw and true/Between a trumpet's cry and Gil Scott heron spoken word on heartache, hope, and dreams deferred/In every chord and every whispered word/So tune in to the hip Andy O’/ let the darkness fade/As Andy O’ builds the jazzy serenade of stars on the poetry and jazz parade/ For on the Nightside, the truth is revealed In the marriage of poetry, and how jazz makes us feel to be real in the truth of it/ Andy O’ Snaps fingers, silence/ And walks away to broadcast for another day/
Tony Adamo
“Love can change a person’s life, leave him breathless, either building him or breaking him”~ By Poet
* * * *
Cupid the great archer,
Shoots his arrow heedless!
On some, it cuts through the heart.
On some others, it only scrapes through.
On a few, it misses the target.
Once shot down, it leaves one breathless.
Heart trumpeting, shifting from one beat to another,
Rhythmically, making it pound quicker.
Opens in one the inlets of pleasure.
It makes one ecstatic and foolish,
With thoughts disjointed, emotions running amok.
Spirit confounded and compounded.
It is madness, a pleasant kind of madness!
It comes and goes, leaving one breathless.
Guts highjacked by anxiety or ecstasy,
Always in throes of a pleasant ache,
Making the heart run a race, keeping one on his toes!
Love starts differently in varying intensity,
But it ends in a familiar way, in the same manner.
The sweetness ends,
infatuation dies,
sour taste lingers,
boredom persists!
Temptation
Foundation.
In such a fluid interconnected world, are long-term relationships dwindling in numbers?
Is temptation saturating society, and creating an influx of such communications, subtly asking for a second chance?
The Email to Monique
Whenever I think of you,
I always feel a familiar calling
A soft echo which rhythmically whispers before morning
I can still feel you
And it carries such magnificent tales of us slipping and sliding
Entwined together spiritually
As a new world was dawning
But like all things borne into the bright lights
There are things lurking in the night
Things we failed to see
To pray against and fight
And so now we both live alone
Me in bondage to time and memories
And you
A sentinel in the in-between spaces
Who I still see
A serene face reflected in random windows
“Perdóname mi amor
La oscuridad vino por mi
Y en ese único momento
Olvidé tu nombre"
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Translation:
Forgive me my love
The darkness came for me
And in that one moment
I forgot your name
Image shared under fair usage policy.
.
I came to dance to my song;
to move well and rhythmically, but not for too long
To dance like nobody's watching, just feeling the groove;
moving like nobody's business with nothing to prove...
I came to do my part.
To give, receive, and come straight from the heart
To make a difference wherever and whenever I can
Wandering while wondering with purpose across the land...
I came to learn some vital lessons:
to study to show myself approved and embrace the blessons
To be ashamed to leave until I have won some victory for humanity
So dance, I will, with no superficiality
crystal
she held me captive with her fingers
nails rhythmically tapping on sand-colored stone
like a general marching to war
ready to go but wanting to stay
with my eyes i could taste her sumptuous lips
swallowing words was easy
snacking on syllables and punctuation
spilling juices onto her thirsty tongue before a kiss
i nearly drowned in her tears
weighted words pulled like an anchor
as she recounted her story
with talking hands and dejected eyes
i discovered the birth of tears
when the heart hurts and the mind knows
eyes can no longer endure the pain
and they cleanse the soul with wishes
i could have loved her
during days that allowed a gentle breeze
a quicker step, guilt-free innocence
and a season to nurture the blossoms of love
now we sit, fingers interlocked
the marching general no longer trudging to war
syllables and punctuation consumed
until tears mingle, wondering if love has escaped
why does life unleash prisoners of the heart,
forever trapped in yesterday
in places where seeds are planted
and in the parched heat of the noontime sun
they die?
© tolbert
Come tenacious muse
goddess within
as ourstory month
fades away from them:
Bid us bleed
nourishing words
rhythmically flowing
like a spring stream’s
soothing waters;
Let our pens canvas
ecstatic images
satisfying the senses
exploding into fulfillment:-
May the creative juices
likewise forever come
spewing warm wet awareness
upon calm waiting souls
seeking the glow of enlightenment;
Grant the pregnant wombs of minds
to shed more light upon the darkness
renewed minds must yet penetrate:-
As eggs hatch releasing newborns
so must the poet’s words do likewise;
come tenacious muse goddess within:
Let your cream of wisdom
once more anoint the arising truth
of the blood, thunder and lightning
of ourstory in distorted his story:-
Come tenacious muse
goddess within
Bid us bleed
nourishing words
rhythmically flowing
like a spring stream’s
soothing waters—
Let our pens canvas
ecstatic images
satisfying the senses
exploding into fulfillment
May the creative juices
likewise forever come
spewing warm wet awareness
upon calm waiting souls
seeking the glow of enlightenment
Grant the pregnant wombs of minds
to shed more light upon the darkness
renewed minds must yet penetrate
As eggs hatch releasing newborns
so must the poet’s words do likewise:
come tenacious muse goddess within
Let your cream of wisdom
once more anoint the arising truth
of the blood, thunder, and lightning
of our story in distorted his story.
Still
Still lives a dream, only one, but it is everything
A soul still waiting for the only one, just for you
A heart still beating for the hoped-burning desire
Still, want something somebody. This is buried, love
One of them is a swindler, other is an impostor
Still, they haven’t found each other yet. Friends
Friends from far away. Everything is broken. Shards
Graceful Swan is a stony-hearted magnetic gazelle
The victim is a credulous guy, not an impostor
He is still waiting for the false love. Believed for true
Life is a fraud. Or maybe dreaming makes for blind
Still, a heart sighs rhythmically, A dream still lives
EBONY WE ON THE WAY
Beating our drums
singing our songs
rhythmically
foot printing
our hued feet
with eyes
still on the prize
and the summit
brightly in sight
we be proudly
marching
in blues-jazz
liberty
faithfully assured
no sisyphus-like
rocky rolling
oppression tappings
can get us offbeat
in our sojourn
to mountain to
liberation
awaiting
the dream’s
reality
for the ebony we:-
Just a poem, not life.
Sea's waves roll in and out rhythmically
See a change, now its arrhythmically
Tsunami must be the blame or
Tommy's sleeping open-mouth snore
Amassed tangible wealth did he
A missed taking care of health, you see
Tsunami life lived now explodes
Tommy's health suddenly implodes
A winter night where the stars will gleam
divinely touched with silver beam
Through the floorboards of heaven they sing
with sparkling white robe and folded wing
Cast fragrance in the dim morning light
moving rhythmically in synchronized bright
From the kingdom of the heavenly voice
the probability of their existence - your choice
There is room for a step between man and God
Pearlescent wing ornament bends under the sword
Previous nights were mellow and true –
Love had been tender,
Nights had never been blue –
Gentle as the dance, we swung
I hold Eleanor Knightley in my loving arms.
Crystals, amethyst and pearls she wore,
Around her neck diamonds were
Gold as her crown radiated with luminescence,
Extravagant as Egyptian Silk embraced her figure
Carelessly our bodies rhythmically swayed along.
“May I have this dance?”
I asked.
“Why certainly.”
Eleanor Knightley had manipulated my eyes –
Mesmerized by her flair and natural beauty
I am bewitched by the Madame's alluring charm.
As the night enclose –
I hold Eleanor Knightley so close –
Whisper the following words;
“The night may wilt, I say –
But the English rose blossoms foreverly.”
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