Two or too provoking thoughts
A safe place i write of and at
We both travel throught
And in the invisible line
I am not found
The civil rights protests
Doth though forge ahead
Inside the building as I?
Outside of poverty, all night
The watching of blind
The picket lines of before
Your grocery and your store
Am i stored in place as safe?
Tolerant to entrance and cake?
To check out the freedom
Taking home no reading
Behind you i must climb aboard
Slaveries vessel ever toward
Another defeat beneath the heels
Furious and patience rarely fields
Inner city, inner doctor
Slumming transpiring caustically talking
Duality’s diagram to read and reflect
A lens and inspection, mapping intuition
In the war, in the cold, leading quietly
Awaiting snow
The crane’s lurking plunge
Hello in painting spunge
Again, once more, my defeat
For yours
Show them the ropes
They tighten the nuse
Then roll up a smoke
Decline all the food
Smoke up some dope
Buy them some booze
Nowhere to go
But tying their shoes
Going for broke
Dice that they threw
The goal is a joke
No smiles from you
Gone cold as a coat
Or ice on the roof
That's totally froze
And too high to go scoop
We are together
and apart, like hyenas.
You demand to be captured -
roped to a pulse;
we still know
how to knot blood.
After the questing
tenderness arrives quietly.
My lips brush the wet vines
of your hair.
Roar’n of the lion, silence of the lamb
O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o*
In pit of despair, color robbed from his face,
Joseph loosed from his coat, sold as a slave.
Roar’n of the lion, silence of the lamb
O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o
Swallowed by the sea, whale amidst the waves.
Jonah no longer pouts, he’s in a dark cave.
Roar’n of the lion, silence of the lamb
O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o
Bones imminent crush in this den of fur.
Daniel smells the cacophonous blood.
Roar’n of the lion, silence of the lamb
O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o
Splinters his hands and his feet.
Jesus punished on a crucifix stage.
Roar’n of the lion, silence of the lamb
O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o…O-o-o-o
8/11/2021
*slow meditation of the gravity of these words.
The lion and the lamb - both represent God
My bug out bag would include my grandchildren.
It would have to be large, because I have ten.
My cat and dog would go in and my wild raccoons.
They count on me for their food right?
My husband could stay home.
I have had him so long we are redundant.
We can watch eight hours of TV
And laugh at only the same things
And say the same words
For the entire time, and only these words.
I would take a jug of red grapefruit juice,
and a five tires and a large bundle of rope.
Matches for a bon fire.
Wait! I am taking the cat out.
She is ordering the children about again.
Making one cry.
The dog gets to go; she is laid back.
Is that a rat? Who brought that?
Okay. If it has a name,
How can I say no to a pet?
I'm not a fighter but,
I Didn't come here to play
I go the distance like Kim Duk Koo
So f***ng walk away
You'll have to kill me
Before I go down
So you better be ready
To go another round
Proud I came from nothing
Proud to be a man
My boy Luke said
Sometimes nothing
Can be a real cool hand
We are together
and apart, like hyenas.
You demand to be captured -
roped to a pulse
but I have forgotten
how to knot blood.
Love arrives quietly.
My lips brush the wet vines
of your hair.
On a wooded path next to the sea
Three strong ropes dangled from a tall tree.
They were hung there for swinging
So guess who was clinging
To one for dear life? Yes, 'twas me!
Seeing them brought me back to my youth
Though I rarely indulged then, in truth.
Still, temptation did beckon
And thus, I did reckon
I'd try it, though long in the tooth.
As I grabbed on, I laughed like a child,
Feeling silly and giggly and wild.
Somehow when I'm away
Other forces at play
Draw me to them and I am beguiled.
Frayed Bell Ropes
Time
did not
disfigure her
nor disillusionment
disarm the strike of clapper’s tears
shed in the agony of renewed peace.
fraying bell ropes forgotten joy
calling
home
6/4/2017
submitted to – New Form – The BELL – Poetry Contest
I move, I move,
My wheels turn like wild things
My hands cry the rims
I run in my dreams
I jump with style
I dance
I move, and dance
My eyes sing like sopranos
My mouth uses color
Like a rainbow
Behind me
I run
I run and I run
The drip lines in my arm
Are parachute ropes
I steer them alone
To land here
I stand
I dream, I dream
Nothing keeps my mind
Inside my faltering
Little loving body
With dancing
Writing pen
***
January 13, 2017
Turning and turning till I turn through myself, then into myself...
Don't know what I'm doing.
Trembling I learn
to express my thoughts
and feelings with
new exciting words.
Innocent yet mindless
to poetic etiquette.
No disrespect
to the masters
of it's grace and elegance.
Couldn't really tell you
a stanza from a blitz.
Hoping you'll all guide me
just a tiny bit,
so I dont look a fool
and can find my little niche.
You done me
mosaic.
The rover has landed
on Mars.
Will you come
tonight ?
Circa.
I was searching
the white ants
on the blackboard.
They had drawn
a map
of the moon.
I would not
cry,
for the fallen tree.
It had left
the legacy
of ropes.
Satish Verma
Full of passion; it's here I
stand,
with two ropes taut in each
hand;
neither yet worth to let go;
how long must I grip until I
know?
Mighty Atlas, I wish I could be,
for the earth it feels weighs
down on me;
the pain is torture and it's only
the start;
for now I can't let go but it
might tear me apart.
chained
it’s animosity
and i know he is not mine
but the wolf longs to be free
i feel his agony in the form of anger
the ropes that hold us down
in every way keep us bound
and i hear his cry to be released
still what can i do
nothing
what forgiveness can he offer
to me a passerby
that wont loose him
it’s as though I’ve committed a crime
and that’s how my heart feels
if they refuse to claim him
tell me then
why do they shame him so
with guilt when he’s done no wrong
and now he can only sing the saddest song
a song of longing
and a song of loneliness
already held down
worsened by rejection
lack of affection
he is now weighted by depression
and no one else will listen
so i mourn along with him
the days of running free
i miss with him too
hearing laughter
and feeling loved
now long gone
by the binding ropes rubbing us raw
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.