Remedy Rhythms
Sometimes writers block
Sunrises at dawn
Sometimes secrets revealed
Render revolver
Rivers soothing recedes
Reckoning subsides
Rain randomly pouring
Sometimes a hole in the sky
Life ripens rosaries
Good deeds to kindness remedy
Rent is paid
Giving is a good day
Better to give than receive
Knowing to reasoning
J-eepneys
A-re
N-ation's
E-veryday
L-ife,
L-etting
E-ach
E-xpedition
S-atisfy
P-assengers
I-n
N-ormalcy
O-f
S-afe
A-dvancement
©bfa053125
Monocrostic (Birthday of Janelle Espinosa)
Who am I?
I'm that star in the sky
that remains
when all the other stars have run away
I'm the last raindrop
that dances on the rooftop
at the end of a stormy day
I'm that leaf that clings
to the tree
when the other leaves have accepted their fate
I'm the last second
of that minute of that hour
that urges the soul to wait
Who am I?
I'm that call
of the wild that renders
the roar of the lion into sacred art
I'm the last embrace
of the fleeting sun
before the day departs
I'm that note that resonates
with your soul
before the music has a chance to start
I'm the last melody
that trickles into your head
and demands the first payment from your heart
Who am I?
If you know
You know
Have you ever pretended a guy was interesting?
Have you slow danced and let him sniff you up close?
I gives you somewhere to go, if you decide to.
Or given a little kiss—nothing slutty in that.
You know, a 'person' isn’t a good kisser - it takes two.
I’m not talking about me, of course.
There’s a two-way interrogation going on
complete with our own internal narratives
—we reenact it’s rituals in the strangest places
like quiet libraries or the lerch and spin of a dance club
we process by analogy and approximation and it works
until it doesn’t, like cold water poured into a glass.
Then we settle back into the dull rhythms of study
I’m not talking about me, of course.
.
.
Songs for this:
Loveland by The Blenders
Human Nature by Mitchell Brunings
RHYTHMS NEW AND OLD
There are many rhythms I’ve been told
Hearts beating time, either fast or slow
If connected, it can be like a symphony
And feeling mine with yours pleases me
There is at least one thing that I know
All rhythms are welcome, new and old
As her eyes are rehearsing those unspoken words,
Her mind is trying to sync with the rhythm of her soul, yet unknown.
With tunes unsung and plays rewritten,
She finds herself swindling between different worlds in an array.
With lullabies sung and voices embracing in unison,
Her soul still yearns for a place to retire.
As much as she enjoys the domineering adrenaline rush through her veins,
The thrill of chase made her forget the warmth of a quiet embrace.
She wants to experience the softened kiss of oxytocin.
Where numerous words can be communicated, within an untamed silence.
A dimensionless canvas to paint words,
That cries out the rhythms of her soul.
With silence ripping her out of the race,
She wants to put herself in solace.
With tears of laughter and cries of joy,
Her soul is in an unwavering dilemma.
As her eyes are rehearsing those unspoken words,
She realizes she needs a burst of dopamine,
For her lesson practices yet to be sung.
“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg.
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Stirring souls, poetry just knows,
Love, fire, boldest winds of desire,
Rains blessing, song without a choir.
Words pouring out soft, gentle prose,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Glistening dreams, love to extremes,
Beckoning from silence that screams.
Dance of dances, fluid verses,
Poetry that grace coerces,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Poems who don’t just tell but shows.
Rhymes and rhythms, tenderly abide,
Singing of light, sometimes wild-eyed,
Hearts might remain in the shadows,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
The rhythms of the night
Sounds of a dark symphony
A mysterious cacophony
Sends chill up and down the spine
Shadows chase the light of a full moon
Across meadow and forest green
No stranger to nocturnal life
Where life plays it’s game of opportune
The voices of the night
Many and strange they may be
As the majestic screech owl in flight
And the fox howls beneath the pines
Night creatures scrambling in search of food
For themselves and their kind in nest and den
Ever willing to take a blind chance
To survive Mother Nature’s food chain
The noises of the night
The yelps, screams, the flapping wings
Sound so vicious ‘til the break of light
When the sun chases the dark away
And the dawn brings a freshness of calm
Welcomed as a consoling balm
And finds some respite from all the fright
That’s found in the noises of the night
The choruses of the night
An eclectic choir of ancient song
As from winged angels in hasty flight
Prepping swamp and forest again
Continuing the cycle of life
That most never fully understand
For it’s not easy to hear in daylight
The insistent rhythms of the night
Wandering barefoot,
whispering sweet sentiments
of haunting pleasures.
A touch that never phased me -
a kiss from her heaven lips.
Tangerine horizons,
appeared like flames in brown eyes.
Lovebirds gazed in awe,
as her lust soaked my passion.
Night rhythms sang to the stars.
We lay until dawn,
adrift in love's melodies,
under moonlight's shroud.
First blink to our morning skies
was wrapped in her angel wings.
A Tanka is a type of short poem, similar to a Haiku, of 8th century Japanese origin which are often written to express self-reflection, love, or gratitude. A suitor would compile a Tanka and send it to a woman the following day after a date. The woman would then reply back in kind. The poems were like short, secret messages expressing gratitude, love, meaning, or desire, and often climaxed in a persuading message.
When her love,
and dress,
Is in slow motion,
Your love races,
To kiss the moon,
With a hymn,
So it may kiss,
And caress,
Her soul,
When her Beauty,
Is a beam of light,
And glides like wings,
Your love slows down,
To sigh with the moon,
With a song,
So she may hum,
And sigh,
Sensuously,
Within her sensual being,
When the rhythms,
Of her,
love and Beauty,
Is still,
As a seashell,
Upon the shore,
Your love,
caresses ,
the sun,
The moon,
And its sparkling stars
Reynaldo Casison
O how had I always fallen back;
With days full of retrogressions, alack!
I was degenerate;
Surely a youth of no notable rate.
My existence was like an ungodly song
With defiled rhythms was it sung
Wherewith I dreamed no dream
And saw no, not a gleam
For there was no light in me to reflect;
So my star could take no effect.
I was consumed by the darkness
Of mundane blissfulness,
Which was deceptive to inward madness.
I thought I was living happily;
Alas! I was dying virtually,
Forgetful that Life could wane out for itself alone
And hand over me to my Maker whom I never knew.
But there came an hour
At the Annual National Campus Community Congress
Of the Deeper Life campus fellowship
Entitled `Excelsior`
For bringing Life and Hope to intellectuals
And equipping them to reach the utmost height:
Where I wholly got transformed.
I was taught to be purposeful, and not lust to be conformed
I could then soar to the farthest height
And ignited became my light
Revived to live for Christ the Saviour
After which I farewelled failure.
Wind,
look how
wild it blows
across the waves;
Ancient melody;
A song of catharsis,
whitecaps wash the pain away;
The innate noise bestowed on you
it cancels out the internal drum;
Ocean breezy circadian rhythms.
Bass blues,
Live crimsons,
and wild orange!
Then loud twilight purples.
Sun days.
Thinking of you
The world outside
Waiting for the lockdown
To be lifted
The lonely moon,
The stars and the clouds
Know my hearts
Yesterday suddenly everything
Come to a standstill
Less night back man
Less morning jogger
Less cars and pedestrians
Less hustles and bustles
But lights and humps
Can never block us
Going out is a song
Singing rhythms of life
Road is a river
Flowing out to a greater sea
Home is a gloriette
For people and backpacks to rest
Thinking of you
The mountains and the sea
The youngsters and the oldies
The drawing of the famous Chinese art piece
Hundred sons and thousands of grandchildren
Upbeat or downbeat
Yet all in a heartbeat
Joy or sorrow, today or tomorrow
Happy or sad, good or bad
Harmony or strife
All rhythms of life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bite Size Poem #35 Poetry Contest
Honorable Mention
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