He hath made
The point quite
Sincere never trade
Your pointless trite
Round former great
Whose sharpened plight
Remains unchanged fate
Indispensable when betrayed
Honed deeply serrate
Voyager
By David J Walker
You are the ones we left
And knew would never grace
The ports on different paths
And ever will the course
Of our ascent serrate a jagged
Past across a folded sky
The SETI trade winds scan each
Horizon
One by
One by
One
With the digital sexton
Texting the someone’s we
Might never know again
Who may complete us
A blithesome royalty, sea of roses smile
delicate faces spark in emerald pasture.
Vivid sunny weeds, dandelions fragile...
no one cares, stems of careless rapture.
Petals felled in wanton lawn mowers,
roots still strong in moist warm blaze.
Radiance return, blooming little flowers
with lion's tooth, serrate leaves amaze.
Sulfur glowing yellow, sleeps in moonlight,
opalesque heads, new dream of stars
Wakes up to sun, soft balls fluffed white,
unburdened wings, fly hours after hours.
A pirouette dance of dandelion seeds
in summer sky, holding hands of wind.
Uprooted wafts fly, survive to breed,
uncertain distant lands, hope gets pinned.
Blowing birthday candles, wish of goodbye....
pangs of separation, siblings all forlorn.
They'll never be together, no tears to cry.
Life moves on, another dandelion is born.
Dated 7th April 2019
Line Gauthier's Dandelion Contest
PLACED THIRD IN CONTEST
Also featured in list of best new poems of the month
Think, slink, clink, dink
At sunup, at sunshine and sunset
Wink, link, but don’t drink, stink or sink
If happiness escapes your purview. Don’t get upset
When your world spins crazy
Out of control as your life’s patrol
Rides in a maze pride to get hazy and fuzzy.
It’s time to take a stroll in Fall
To reinvigorate your bliss brand and liberate
Your mind from a plethora of mischief
And misconception as you serrate
Chains stuck on your conscience by a belief and leaf
That cry, fly and spy to steal and peel reason
From your soul and snatch the glory goal
Enveloped in the choice and voice treason
Struggles to bury in hurry in a despair hole.
The emptiness I feel
In the life I lead
Can’t fill and steal pains that deal
Blows I seldom need
In the air I breathe
In the lungs I possess and the stress
That assails the disbelief I loathe
In the witness I assess
In circumstances whose distances and stances I witness
To circumvent events that prevent the downfall I suspect
Exploits the weakness
In the sorrows that inhabit the prospect
In mistakes for high stakes in the past I made
To sneak justification
Into the stolen grade
I accumulated from the infraction in the mission
I set without prior consideration of the gravity whose motility and propinquity
I didn’t grasp
In the liquidity I invested in the volatility
Whose clasp on the last ditch gasp
Spurs breathlessness in recklessness I kill
As considerations of dark thoughts roams free
To ask me heartbreaks to heal
For reasons I can’t see
But parallax in circumstances I experience
In situations insanities dictate
In the lance dance whose influence and confluence
I hate to regret and serrate
In the hollowness I dislike
As my mind grows cold
While spikes sorrows hike
Stakes, threatening my happiness to withhold.
Constructing Catacombs
Desirous death, a submersed breath, the walls in a carious crumble
Living life, a surgical serrate strife, as we stand surreal and stumble
Baneful blood, a feverous flood, the temerarious towers will tumble
Terranean tears, fertile fermenting fears, a famished fatalistic fungal
Corpses mounting high, Angels in the sky, reuniting dead and divine
Perpetual praying, love’s lost laying, as we build their sacred shrine
For we question why, we deceitfully die, within the abortifacient vine
Blue clouds of clay, casually chip away, as the minstrels drink their wine
The new Babylon, do we belong, beyond death's door is still unknown
Faith be quick, do we get to pick, a heaven or hell that we have sewn
Odious obstruction, of deaths destruction, mankind comes to mourn
Caught in oblivion, a denunciative delirium, and thus we are reborn.
Nov.08.2017
PREMIERE CONTEST NO 110
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I cry when I laugh
Do the dimples on my cheeks
tell a different tale?
When I laugh I cry
the construction of the mind
wears not on the face
The voice in my head
serrate deeper than scars. So
I cry when I laugh.
I hold you sensate in my soul
But your refusal ruins my longing
Queen of the mild -dewed morn
In the apparel of a descending snow
My steps I miss to clutch your shadow
I am tickled to see your lush lips blazoned in sweetness
I hold you sensate in my soul
But you willow my wits
Bud of the King, the bluey bloom
Storm my wishful stream of thoughts
And disappear like a moon on a brief bow
I miss my breath to take in the fragrance of your silhouette
I hold you sensate in my soul
But your song fast-paced serrate my stringing skill
Daughter of the bridery moon veiled
In the diadem of regal rose, the rhythm of my lines
I hold you sensate
Come to me in flesh and flow into my arms
Long spread for your maiden embrace
On this lawn where life never limps but spreads green fronds,
Come to me, my love-bud, my sensation, my may some day.
Tethered to you by an
Umbilical cord of blame
Massive heart attacks
Of rejection serrate
Ripping through vagina of hate
8/10/11
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