Rinses Poems

Silver Threads

The wind billows the trees with god-forsaken draft,
And rinses the limbs with splashes of rain.
Zephyr's raging bluster brings forth storm's chaotic craft,
Blowing silver threads to new starts again.

Sailing without order, the threads land where they may----
On fence, on plants, on a patio chair.
The small spiders, thus carried, will emerge in a day, 
And crawl past your toes to find a choice lair.

OTHER TASKS

You probably won't believe me, These rumors you hear are true.
When I'm not at my job, I have other tasks to do.

I don't care how long it takes,No matter what I think.
It's time to scrub those dishes left soaking in my sink.   

No matter how hard I try. 
Dirty clothes left to themselves will nether wash nor dry.

I hope I don't sound I'm lax.
but my kitchen sure could use a wax.

There is no housekeeper that is paid for by the hour.
That scrubs my commode then rinses down my shower.

My plight is very simple, as you  plainly see.
No one else will do these other tasks for me.

mourning mausoleum

“When trust is a walking phantom, 
draped in dying dandelions, 
let the wind blast forth its shattered promises,
as rain rinses away piercing pain of memories lost” Quote by Poet

the sky is a catacomb
of faceless promises and ghosts
clothed in tangled treachery
as trust is a wilted tulip~
embalmed in golden tears…
O’ deceived heart of the eclipsed sun
you were once glazed in jewels…
now a mourning mausoleum~
chanting a moonless requiem
resting in ashes of skeletal lies….

Existence Enshrined

The rhapsody of rainbow 
melts in morose mélange,
the concoction of colors
bleeds bland in 
shattered silence,
sucked out 
of crumbled core 
of sensuous cloud,
soothing rain rinses 
the stains in broken hearts,
shades of grey paints 
the frayed linen of love,
redundant.

The requiem 
of longing patina
of repentant rose 
resonates melancholic medley
in the portals of petals, 
the faded gloss
turns into tears 
in pearls of mourning dew, 
desiccates uncared
under the summer sun 
of the desert mind,
the wilted flower falls
on weathered gravestone 
of spent passion,
departed.

The cacophony captured 
in the melody of forlorn music,
chaotic symphony floats
out of tune
on disharmonic wave,
strained smiles displayed  
with elusive enactment 
in ostentatious podium of life,
songs turn into echo
of convoluted noise 
in hollow souls,
pretentious.

The intriguing facet  
of listless life 
seen entranced 
through liquefied layers
of cynical stratum,
configures pessimism
in the sunken essence 
of living exaltation,
the apparent aspect
refracts defiled expression 	
of warped existence,
enshrined.

The Mist

The mist washes the hills
In a hazy comfort,
Soothing away every thought
Releasing the promises
Worthiness, like the dewdrop
Silencing fears, tears

The mist, like a heavy fog,
Caressing oak and pine
Stardust falls, pouring out
Rhymes, rhythms
Poetry on the emotional
Ride through eventide

The mist rinses the peaks
Destroying darkness
Erasing the mysterious 
Coloring creation
Blinding the elation
Whispering intimacy, joy

The mist, reminds me
Like a vapor, my life is passing by me
Rich in blessings, fading
From the seas of enchantment
Relieving me of doubt
Promising that I will always bloom

The mist baths the mountains
In shadows of dignity
Faded reasons for faith in dreams
Promising wisdom, peace
Cleverly hidden beneath the gray
Steam that shrouds faith

The mist, alive like the wind
Dancing in the spirit
Whimsical, wishful, wistful
Praising a God who is alive
Singing through the spray of love
Poured out on all flesh…

From His breath, His gasp
Exhaling blessings
On the ones He accepts
Through salvation
Saving grace that admits
Jesus saves completely!






July 14, 2022

Varying Radiance

Tweedledee surfs tides the fingers decree 
Tweedledum rinses the melody lyrics gum
As I gently strum 
My guitar took me far where I can never disagree 

In the dreamland of peace 
Where brothers trouble sisters like breeze 
Everyone fears the waves of seashore 

Through smile, love travels miles 
In agony, love takes patience to subdue hegemony 
Love begets love
So do hatred begets hatred
But two wrongs can not make a right
When he emits hatred; to learn him love, display it. 

© 2020 
® Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá

Journey From the Sky

The fountain is opened,
The sky is rent apart,
They take their journey,
A purpose is to be fulfilled,
A mission is to be accomplished,
The journey of a raindrop,
Can't be wholly fathomed, 
Its existence as an entity,
Is incomprehensible,
What we know is what we see,
What we see is what we believe, 
It rinses clean the atmosphere,
It drains away the unclean substances,
Some float,
Some are deposited,
Harmful substances to an all-embracing host.



April 30, 2022.

You Can'T March Dirt Out

You can't march dirt from soiled laundry – 
one needs a strong detergent, and several
cycles of rinses.  You can't vote dictators
out of office – they do the counting, generally
counting the people out.  The world is in a
fix; America in the mix.  We need our, so called,
representatives in Washington to gain a backbone...
and not just ring their hands while pontificating – 
or are they all so conflicted themselves, that they 
dare not do their jobs?

Evil devours Evil! In time a powerful, 
ruthless person, decides to do good for 
the people – just to get the masses on
his side. So the seat of power can be
transferred.  Sometimes a group of well
to do individuals, tired of politics 
as usual, have an epiphany...and an
America is born!

Mister Joe

Mister Joe, would-be muse, 
jangles loose change in his pocket.
Memories jogged and garnered as he walks.
Mister Joe in contemplation, 
washes, rinses and tumble dries, what pops into his head,
in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
to taunt and flap jangles for him, 
for his readers, and strangers who happen to pass on by.

Mister Joe, would-be muse, 
casts charms, jangles and sparkles,
to jog in the minds of his readers.
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and serendipity dips,
in the minds of his readers with word play, puzzles and twists.
The catch netted, is prodded, poked, shaken and stirred,
to inspire twinkles, sparkles, hums, aahaa's, grunts,
and perchance, nods of appreciation and delight.

Mister Joe's catch of memories, once jarred and jangled, are returned to reader with care.
For the reader to add jangles to their pockets, 
and gems to their lockets and charm bracelets. 

Mister Joe, would-be muse, and his reader, now walk with jangles echoing within.

A Becoming April

Mossy thresholds open,
mud slips into small lighthouses
on the shoreline of the season.

Backyard rockpools 
become repositories of sunshine.
Roots and puddles 
congregate in underground weddings.
Lost towns emerge to be found.

A raining wash rinses the deep surfaces,
teases the earth ajar,
the ground surrenders to fulfill a promise, 
a warming breath patches green sleeves, 
plants green vowels
in the sylvan silt and the softening.

Camping

In tents some great adventures dwell.
Intense are nights where flashlights swell.

Sites are intimate and spacious.
Sights agree, the Lord is gracious.

Peeks of heaven's breath surround us.
Peaks within trek's reach astound us.

Wood is obtained for bright campfires.
Would the stars contain more desires?

Chilly's the night's bite, but fire's hot.
Chili warms in a blazing pot.

Bear tracks establish remote paths.
Bare your heart and permit it baths.

Tales are told with a stirring hush.
Tails are hidden in every brush.

Close the tent door, starve mosquitoes.
Clothes are laid out before we doze.

Creaks pierce the woods; we turn and toss.
Creeks trickle nearby trees with moss.

Dew rinses clean night's unsound fears.
Do saplings emerge from your tears?

Cents are exchanged for a shower.
Scents of nature overpower.

Deer prance upon nature's backyard.
Dear mom, enjoy every postcard.

Write when something touches your heart.
Right here in the midst I must start.

3/11/2021 (homophone beginnings)

Fall's Wonder

September
rinses
my skies blue

October’s 
streaked sunsets
will have me
awash with wonder

Sept. 22, 2020

Simplicity

fluid arc,

   gurgling of hose,

giggling of little girls, with long hair.

     strawberry scent dizzies the air -

       suds are everywhere.

            waterfall rainbow rinses

youths cinnamon strands,

            chubby cheeks jiggling.

sunshine dries soaked hair

   as they continue to play

            in my fresh air memories.

3/16/2020

Pristine

Oh, jungle, deep ...
hug me close your jade breast -
I long to hear a thrum within ...
let your warm whispers tickle
the tympans of my ears with
sultry songs of your essence ...
and your tangle of mysteries.

Face-to-sky, I breathe ...
heaven's warm weep patters -
rinses, bright, your petals
and paths, echoing tender
through primal magnificence,
the labyrinth of rills and falls.

A breeze born of orchid and
paradise, presses your breath
to me, and I wonder aloud of
blessings as pure and perfect,
of moments as divine,
of this, the bloom ...
of life.





~ 1st Place ~  in the "Any Poem You Want To Write Exactly 100 Words" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.

( Words = #100, counted at PoetrySoup.com )

Renewing

Listen to the tap…tap…tapping; the music of falling rain.
Sky rinses out it’s watering cans; It’s sprinklers are the clouds.
Gaia’s children are thirsty; roots stretch and heartily drink.


Gardeners collect water for the drier days; the children drink.
Rain barrels freshly filled; gardens will flourish; grateful for the rain.
When it’s all over; plant bellies full; time to move on, to the clouds.


All life needs water to replenish itself; happy to oblige, are clouds.
Nothing survives without such refreshment; life needs a drink.
When heavens display a temper; be glad that there’s rain.


Celebrate the rain, when the clouds of life roll in; your spirit needs a drink.

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