Rotates Poems | Examples

How I Am With Clothes

This is how I am with clothes:
(Most won’t relate’s, what I suppose)
I purchase something that I like
(If it’s on sale, a lucky strike).

If in a store, I try it on,
Or if it comes from Amazon,
I grapple with the box or bag
To check the fit. (Return’s a drag.)

Then in my closet or a drawer,
I neatly place it, waiting for
The perfect time for me to wear it.
(Might be weeks or months - I swear it!)

Once it’s worn, it joins the crowd
With which my wardrobe’s been endowed
And rotates, as each day I see
Which outfit most appeals to me.

For years, most items I will wear,
But when they’re old or need repair,
They transfer to my country place 
Where, in my drawers, I find some space.

To do that, other things must go.
I fill a bag of items, so
I have enough to donate to
Collection boxes (which I do).

Of course, some things I have to toss
And doing so is no one’s loss,
But maybe someone I don’t know
Wears something I bought long ago.

The way I am, I know is strange,
But at this point, I’ll never change,
Although, in logic that’s reversed,
I’ll wear the clothes I least like first.

Noctuary II

Echoes of summons ring on.
With them a sonorous clamour for painted lines.
The rim of night stretches and holds fast to
a colossal nocturne hung on furs-and-clouds walls,
and a concentric image of life rotates on
edges of weak silver.

Long-dead poets campaign openly for verses –
among them Wordsworth and Eliot –
each putting a swagger to his arrogant gait of lines,
sauntering towards a nest of whited papers.

Initiation signs, nebulous, line the torso of night,
and are etched deeply into the black bosom
of distant whiffs of ceremonies, like faint
stars of a tumultuous galaxy.

Awake within the dream

A gentle breeze blows, commingled with light,
each morn greeting our presence without fail,
our senses coming to life with delight,
in thought rested calm where no fears assail.

Nodes within form are suffused with cool heat,
God’s disc of light rotates over our head,
with energy peaked at our palms and feet,
our vibrant presence is by bliss beats led.

In this manner, in but not of the world,
with all doings on earth done by God’s hand,
we breathe in grace, in the nest of heart curled,
in witness mode, imposing no demand.

Innocence plays, heart prays, awareness stays,
in time stretched stillness in form that decays.

as we metamorphose

grazed by spirit, our form is magnetised
we vividly sense our aura expand 
the stillness point within is realised
soundless thunder mind cannot understand

bliss rises from a centreless fulcrum
each node the epicentre of this storm
rapture renews gong of the cosmic drum
our pristine presence chooses to conform

a disc of light above our crown rotates
the staff of power within stands erect
between earth and heaven soul bilocates
that with God’s mind we seamlessly connect

is-ness of being-ness has a new name ~
tempest of delight, God alone can tame

Neon God

I do not want a neon God
Orange bright
Flourescent pink, glowing light
For all to see
In darkest night

I'd rather have
The subtle charm
With strength to hold in every arm 
Or patient hope
And solid calm 

I do not need
The flashy stuff on garish stage 
With visuals on every page
As life rotates
Through human age 

The wisdom now
To soulful dreams
Is silence it seems 
That reveals
God's delicate schemes

The inner room
The heart space, clear
Where gratitude for every tear
Is soaked by love
Replacing fear

The worldly clamour
For my mind
The buzzing lights so unrefined
Revealed deception
Cruel, unkind

I neutralise
With heavenly truth
A mystery disguised to youth
Of settled soul. Of peaceful rhythm 
Released control

A rhyme untainted 
The ancient rule 
Of beauty unpainted so old it's cool
The teacher's in...
Not classroom school

That neon fad
That tragic shouting
From soapbox square, no crumbs for birds
Meaningless pouting
Just empty words

So I resolve to dim the bright
Pull down the shade
So that there might
Be revelation by
Internal light

Zen mode

subtle bliss tingles in toroidal heart
personify is-ness of our being
enlivened spine holds erect energies
the disc of grace at fontanel rotates
steadying thereby our third eye’s blink rate

soles of feet and palms glisten as light dawns
cool heat pervades every cell of our form
though we’re void-centric we cannot deny
heightened delight as our soul so blossoms
being both immanent and transcendent

love eternal

rotates without pause
love energy eternal
nourishing nourished




Line Gauthier-Bite Size No. 95- Honorable Mention

Wazobian Woes

In Agbada's flowing folds
—a masquerade of pride,
A dance of deception, where skills are hard to hide.
Like play, like play, Wazobia's woes unfold
—a tale of woes, where darkness takes its toll.

Bad governance
—a hydra-headed beast,
Feasting on hope, leaving only despair to feast.
Youthful dreams like embers, flicker and fade,
As leaders weave a web of deceit
—a tapestry of shade.

Their hearts
—a labyrinth of greed and guile,
Where right and wrong are mere pawns in a wicked smile.
They know the right, but wrong is their heart's desire,
A Faustian bargain, where souls are set on fire.

But what of those left behind, in this bleak land?
Will their good life come, or forever lost in the sand?
Only time will tell, as the earth rotates in pain.

Leaves

You once were connected
You had your place
As vibrant green
The sun did face

Now tumble down
The wind she shakes
As click you land
Connection breaks

So is it true
That life revolves?
The thing we were
Rotates, dissolves

We are transformed
A panoply
Of golden hints
Of what's to be

For in the cycle
Green to rust..
Faith in the natural
Ways we must

Be strong in love.
That nothing's lost
Deception
Is the only cost

Preserve belief
Beyond this schism
Faith in the beauty
Of nature's rhythm

Practicing the pause

resting endowed functionality
as bestowed by the universe
a stirring yet arises in the heart
to emote a melodious verse

humming pulse of innate aliveness 
cajoles us to dance on life’s stage
we pause awhile in the bardo
where fires of lust and desire rage

pristine presence looks at the ego
amazed at how big it has grown
it’s misaligned with the call of soul
so the times’ now to park the drone

free from the fetters of lower mind
soul’s auric field begins to increase
renewing its vibrance within itself
ushering a glow of ineffable peace 

the Ferris wheel of mind yet rotates
owing to past momentum in motion
standing on firm ground we look on
nonchalant to the ongoing commotion 

at the pause of polarity interchange 
the hum of bliss is heard in the void
slowing down therein without cause
we reclaim the light of Self unalloyed

Global soupsters

The earth's globe rotates around the sun.
Morning for some and night ffor mothers as it does.
Languages are many and dialects varied causing divide 
What of the language of literature?

Translations of heart. feelings and life seep thru both 
      metal gates and hard walls.
Poets of mind acknowledge each other with open nods.
They know no divide of country. culture or race.
Only to speak the truth of bring.

the harmonious wheel

the wheel rotates
from anger 
            to calmness
with each turn
it sends love

love flowing 
               into each heart
 as the jewels of truth 
               protect

 the lotus reaches for the sky
and quells
                       the winds rage

back to harmony 
                     new life is reborn

Air

Who goes against the air?,                                                      No one has such dare,                                                             
 We have to be very care,                                                    
 When we go on pair ,                                                                  It does magic on hair,                                                                  It lifts the small wear,                                                              And it rotates beach chair,                                                           I look it with keen stare,                                                            All of them happen rare,                                                             But it's act doesn't fair.

Air

Who goes against the air?,                                                      No one has such dare,                                                             
 We have to be very care,                                                    
 When we go on pair ,                                                                  It does magic on hair,                                                                  It lifts the small wear,                                                              And it rotates beach chair,                                                           I look it with keen stare,                                                            All of them happen rare,                                                             But it's act doesn't fair.

O, Time

Painting dream-scapes upon canvas of vermilion skies,
O, time! how you elevate my dawn in periwinkle sunrise,
As day’s footprints, glistening amber tapestries rise,
When rhythms of birds, with musical winds harmonize.

O, immortal aura of time! has anyone ever seen you?
Spectacular at birth: wasn’t the big-bang your debut?
What your omnipresence looks like, I have nary a clue,
Ruling my existence, as seamlessly you pass through.

Mockery of love you make, fading it over your domain,
Hurting hearts once enamored, feeling pain of your reign,
O, time! you changed me~ who I was, I’m not the same,
Robbing my vigor as I age, sadly my exuberance you tame.

You transform themes of now, into dreams of morrow,
Planting seeds of hope, healing my wounds of sorrow,
As through your wintry woes rise, avid spring meadows,
Shining motifs of today, glinting yesterday’s shadows.

Moments you take, as earth rotates, turning into days,
Yearning for infinity as you traverse into eternal haze;
Audaciously presupposing your empire shall never end,
As ceaselessly through heaven and earth you transcend.

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