Short Circulate Poems

nature’s love precepts

accumulate, circulate –-

    wisdom’s pools of truth




*In honor of John Freeman’s “The Precept: Nature’s Haiku” contest...

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Still waters
Allow not movement
Just stagnate from its neglect
Stir it up, letting it circulate
To flow in nat’ral order
Ride upon its waves
In sunshine



Septet syllable count is 3,5,7,9,7,5,3, unrhymed...

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a showpiece
a speciality
        to 
           declaim:
visually clever
a retort even
to circulate:
enfolded
in a prestigious
compendium
of the poetsirregular&glib-
a hackneyed canticle
to provoke
           or not...

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The verses circulate
between the sacred and the profane,
between food and hunger,
between ugliness and beauty...
Between the salty and the sweet,
between the beauty and the beast...!
And we poets among everything
and all... !...

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You don’t break your heart
Your heart is very important,
To circulate blood it beats
While singing One God’s beads;
Pumping blood is its a duty
Through arteries of the body,
To save life for certain time
Then no more heard and seen....

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Mean Storm Forming..



Red stormy sky’s forming above the land and to the seas. 
Mountainous terrain is being swelled by clouds of insanity.

Once that storm reaches that warm water beach. 
Those clouds will circulate then the winds will start to peak....

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Palm trees dance in the wind
Waving their leaves like a fan
As the clouds disappear
The sun moves in
Promising a day so refreshing
Flourishing thoughts of anew
Peace and love how beautiful
And positively designed
To circulate contentment 
Throughout the mind...

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Restless indigenous soul
Scraping the sky for new experience

Men drown their days in sequence
Bone eyes cast aside in assumption
Work contracts to forcefeed diligence

Its a pity to stay glued and arranged
Love knows no mobility like fame

Circulate your sordid notes 
We will join irresistibly...

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Times they do change,
Like pulsating rhythms,
everyone says that nothing is a like,
yet all are the same,
we circulate back to same old tired problems.
thinking that they are brand new.
till no one looks to the past anymore,
because how can it reflect on our future.
nothing is left when we finally look,
and see,
that yes this has happened before....

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The spiders know before we do,
Cozy
Expanding black clouds
On the edge of a meal
In the corner of my bedroom

The last of the flies circulate
Wall, wall, window, wall
It is just a matter of time

Meanwhile the girls and I
Find benches in the last scrap of brassy sunlight
Furiously rub the upright hairs from our arms
And fight the gails
Blowing our skirts like sails....

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These lines I write
and think well done
are merely words strung
from some propelling force,
while I watch them appear.
Watch to find the air
shimmer with familar light
within its space of silence
as a volt of words is written.
Words writing words
that become smitten
by this familar mind
with holding on to cadence or rhyme
to circulate through
a calling to do better....

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Novel ideas
Circulate in his head
Swirl around evasively
Intimidating his dreams
He has no idea what to do
He has never written more than a short story
His muse entices him to begin, inspiring trust.
He wakes up with a full work up of what he is going to write.
“I am going to write a novel,” he tells everyone he meets that day.
There are many eye rolls, but none of them are his. He happily begins…....

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On rain drenched mornings
words may feel too heavy
to absorb dense Truth,

May smell too bleached
to taste thin Beauty,

May sound too restrictive
to recreate revolutionary visions.

Yet, absence of words
may sound too drenched
in universal drizzle
to comfort,
to circulate lively blood
for warm interior climate cleansing

Rain water
distilling
tomorrow's more fertile
silent soil
silk skinned soul....

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You come in as submissive 
My inner circle you dominate 
Blood line circulate never ovulates
One silly move 
you in it for weeks 

I meditate your lust
My past I garden you to die 
Water you to drown 
Milk it 
my bones will carry me

Breathe, weed, smoke, air was always air
 Lifeless solutions you benefit 
I live to regret 
My faith in you contemplate 

Traditional quick but puppets

Bloom or follow dooms leads...

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You are day and night to me—
Much more,
My before 
And yet to manifest
Within You I circulate
While beyond You
Still more of You
I seek to elevate—
The vine of my spirit
Reaching up, and then
Further,
Each leaf of me suspended 
The craving
Is light—
I am in balance…
Elevating for illumination
All of me
Grasping and lifting,
Following transparency 
Of new veins
And meridians,
Seeking mastery
While saturated
With love.......

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My true God taught me
that he allowed false stories
to circulate about him
To test the allegiance 
of those who truly loved him
Were they going to follow his
plan of action for their benefit
Or were they going to follow the
lying of their own hearts
To their detriment 
The greatest leader and
creator of our souls taught
me to test people to see
if their alligence is truly
for me. You can't argue with
the wisdom of an only true God...

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go out and distribute the gospel "the good news"
circulate the message about God's views
propagate, promulgate, scatter and sow
the Word that God wants everyone to know

be a part of The Great Commission
as a disciple of God, you have His permission
dispense, disperse, extend and expand
spread the "good news" to everyone you can

publish it, print it
exhibit it, commit it
the gospel, "the good news"
the Word of God
spread it, evangelize it
and take it to heart...

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The Dummy

Lying in a corner 
With a smirk on his face
Eyes wide, not yet moving
Maché thoughts circulate.

Reality assured,
He was ready to go,
Dependency resting
On a hand from below.

His own paralysed hands
In his parodied suit
Did not have the means 
To greet or salute.

From whence the desire,
The will and intention?
How to be free from
Ventriloquist intervention?

The God of the dummy
Is beyond belief,
His place in the corner
A God-given peace...

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Substantial quadrants of hate

Throughout these veins circulate

Spiraling in frenzied states

Adrift an ailing coma


Infinite corruption clawed my corneas

Birthing the erasure of euphoria

Imprinting trademarks of memoria

Leaving in wake vile aromas



All confidence dissolved to solvents

Due to definitive involvement

Susceptible to gaunt installments

Marring my skin with melanoma



Mother Earth serves as a mime

Humanity must be refined...

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You may think it's unique
That it's just
happened to you
at the moment

But it has all been done before
Anything that you imagine
has already taken place
It's nothing knew

It may seem
like it's a catastrophe
or that it's the greatest
thing that ever occurred

This is just an illusion
an illumination of discrepancies
fostered by time and space
bolstered by the relevancies

of disinterested specimens
that circulate through
the time portals
of everyday situations...

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