Inspired by "Oval Living" by CayCay Godwin
Wobbly teardrop poised to fall,
why do you have a Southern drawl?
And if I raise my eyes to look,
will I find you've grown into a brook
on a face that's all aquiver,
ruefully destined to be a river,
joining tears of sisters and brothers,
in life's ocean made by mothers.
Her tears of wildflowers ‘n whiskey,
Wistfully drifting thro’ the soothless air,
E’ermoor the pineful sobbing, ruefully;
Oft daring darling birds to wane the fair,
Chid not the girl for tears for boys for joy
Much lost upon the mirror, ‘eep tonight
Without the woes nor cares of youthful boys,
‘Eep sweetly from the tast’ of whiskey’s bite,
Ere long the dreams of wheat smoked barrels stir
Your deep slumbers keep, dream of many things,
The rye, the warming oak, caramel and myrrh,
And soon, much too soon, the nightingale sings.
Rest now, dear heart, let sorrow’s tempest cease;
For even broken wings may sleep in peace.
The naïve life possessed by the power of craving,
turns into an inanimate object, utterly inert.
The buoyant being, unsuspecting and unblemished,
captured by the vicious clutch of cunning yearning,
rolls in remorse like the fallen gems of longing garland,
the fragile string of innocence ruefully ruptured.
The sordid senses sheathed by spiteful insolence
don’t for a moment repent the presence
in the fleeting mind the obstinate obsession
of nurturing the ephemeral debased desire
in the swathing shades of garish grey,
decimating the radiance of the sapphire spirit
of its credulous possession disowned.
For the body and mind ravaged
by the vile strike of Black Excalibur of severance
life is no longer a charismatic concept.
The piteous ruins of the broken heart pile up in futility
at the threshold of despair in the debris of disdain.
Free from the captivity of depraved love,
the agonized heart pines to rejuvenate,
hopes to find the secret of solace for the desolate soul,
waiting for the time to rise re-invented
from the wreckage of self-worth.
Hours nibble at a low back strain.
Tenuous strings were tugged
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how fragile you are,
how vulnerable to those red tides
that bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.
Sit a while old man,
sip tasteless water from a warm plastic bottle,
imagine racing upwards
leaping from mountain top to mountain top,
get high on being low.
You've earned every dull ache,
time to ruefully admit
that there never has been
such a thing
as a 'dull' ache.
“Lost love returns on waves of memory
in the sea of melancholy” – Quote by Poet
My gloomy sky showers sonorous rain with melody of tears,
the drenched debris of my shattered heart ruefully hears.
The rainbow colors paint your portrait in transient twilight,
the clumps of gilded cloud frame it on their fervent flight.
As its shimmering shadow floats in the sea of my emotion,
in the squall of passion my longing waves dance in elation.
Before your image sinks into dismal depth of my morose core,
the waves bring it back, adorned with pearls, to my mind’s shore.
Human body, like a town, can be ravaged by time. ~ by poet
My streets are weather-beaten and desolate
my sun often flickers and glows but hazy
lone flashing yellow traffic-light is my moon
the Town Square has fallen ruefully apart,
Tell me, how can I take you on a tour of my town?
Why did a cauldron of bedeviled bats fly right
into the grim windows splattering their blood
on the shards of glass strewn all over the floor…
What drove them to their gruesome death?
These nocturnal creatures that can navigate
a labyrinth of caves skillfully.
I leaned ruefully against the darkened wall
of this abandoned house, pondering;
Alas, if only these broken windows can
tell the tale of that foreboding night.
Ensnared, entangled, entrapped, entwined by life…
Venturing to escape is to embrace death!
Hugging the shadows of incarceration I wait
for the light of liberating death to shine upon me
and wrap me in its ethereal grace.
Cast out of Paradise, and a stranger in the mortal world,
I am cursed with an angelic beauty
like a rose blooming in the desert only to wither
in its scorching heat—unnoticed, unsung!
Like a fallen warrior seeking deliverance
like a wayward soul seeking salvation,
Unable to reconcile with either world.
Can I speak without being dismissed?
My voice runs silent as the shadows persist.
Your painful missive eats at me.
Your grin ruefully brings me to my knees.
Sorrow and crying tears apart, my soul.
Now I am a shell in the shadows of woe.
Your violent, harsh words brings no hope.
I longingly look to the stars, I can never cope.
Relief is in my hands of metal grey.
Its muzzle is in my mouth as I pray.
Love you have won your prize.
My soul in the silent shadows rises.
Healthcare and medical attention are an essential human right,
in modern societies this basic need should not be out of sight.
Every individual of any status should get proper medical care,
for which the medical systems and practices need to be fair.
Ethics entitles everybody access to treatment and technology new,
progress in medical science should help all, not a fortunate few.
Healthcare system must serve patients, not those in this profession,
sympathetic personalized care should not be an exception.
Better transparency and concern should be for patients’ benefit,
the system should work for patients’ welfare, not for profit.
It’s time to recognize the medical predicament many face ruefully,
address the systemic issues and collective challenges globally.
david looks at the guy
big
very big
Intelligent
not dumb at all
fast for his size
athletic
the young man picks up a pebble
looks ruefully at his crappy sling
The crowds going wild
jeering
catcalling
david grins
he has good teeth
he's a looker
goliath rubs his forehead
he feels a headache coming on
fortunately
david sprints away
to pray
He once was a pale of mine
when we were both young and dumb.
He was always a feisty guy - a real hot-head.
His ears satellite dishes
forever tuned to detect
any slight or perceived insult.
Time goes by,
there are forks in the road for both of us.
For years we don’t talk or meet.
I hear he’s a successful local plumber now.
One day, what do yer know,
it's Tommy!
He gets right to it,
complaining bitterly about a client
who had said something negative of his work
on Facebook.
He’s as mad as hell.
“If I ever see that guy again,
I’m gonna punch his lights out.”
He says,
his angry eyes locked on my face.
“How you doing Tommy” I say.
“Why” he asks suspiciously,
“ did anyone say bad about me?”
I’m backing away.
“Good to see you again Tommy.”
I say, easing myself away
from his simmering presence.
I recall ruefully,
that he was once a good guy
to have in your corner.
"Writing is my refuge. It's where I go. It's where I find that integrity I have."
~ Charles Bartlett Johnson
Whenever my days seem long
and all my tasks turn out wrong,
And I wish the things I had not said
and feels like turning over and play dead...
Ha, I sit down ruefully and I write!
When someone somewhere gets hurt
When a lively flower bites the dirt
When somewhere someone’s heart breaks
and sneaks into a corner and quietly aches...
Oh, I sit down woefully and I write!
On the wings of the wind I write
On the waves of the sea I write
I write for all to see, feel and hear,
Write I about love, hate, faith and fear...
O yeah, lo! Now thou know why I write.
~04/03/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge 'R' words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
The flashy words he deftly chose to seduce,
and with practice these became florid.
One word he once inadvertently let loose,
that he had kept for long under the lid.
He did this long after she came in his life,
sailing together in time in a fervent way,
until they were hit by the storm of strife,
and she had started to slowly drift away.
His door was open, she did not return,
the last thread of hope he had lost pained.
A simple word then grew in his heart’s urn,
but he had kept it as a captive chained.
His longing for her did not ever wane,
he disliked to see her get hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the load of pain,
knew not when the captive’s chain he tore.
For her the injury could not be greater,
as his spite spurted the simple word 'hate'.
It was mea culpa, he ruefully realized later,
but belated, for it had sealed their fate.
______________
March 21, 2023
Contest : A Simple Poetry
Sponsored by : John Lawless
retirement close, Arthur sadly wonders,
ponders ruefully what his passions are!
to merrily spend the days...
golf or pool! dearest wife says -
must get my tea in bed, whatsoever!
May 31, 2022
A Funny Limerick - Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Syllables (!0 and 7) checked by HMS.com
One word I inadvertently let loose
from those I had kept in control for long,
the flamboyant ones I carefully chose,
over time with practice they became strong.
I did this after you came in my life,
we flowed in time in the usual way,
until we were struck by the surge of strife,
you had started to slowly stray away.
That was when the word entered my heart’s den,
but I had kept it shackled as captive,
for you to return my door was open,
from debris lost hope I couldn’t reprieve.
My yearning for you did not ever wane,
I did not want to see you hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the heart pain,
did not know when the captive’s chain I tore.
In the open wound like a pinch of salt
from my spiteful mouth came out the word hate,
I ruefully confessed that was my fault,
but belated, for it had sealed our fate.
_____________________
January 29, 2022
Syllable count : 10 per line
Checked on PS Counter
Contest : Latin Lessons
Sponsored by : Margarita Lillico
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