Short Equivocal Poems

Aloha is a

Word of opposite meaning,

Hello, and, Goodbye.


Date: 09/04/2019...

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We all are curious,
Others call it
Naivety. I am
Disturbed by the
Equivocal interpretations
Rationalized with ignorance.
Faith, a leap to
Understand out beliefs.
Lies, truth, the unknown....

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Listen to poem:

Equivocal Euphoria


A bird song heralds

a halcyon morn, espies--

wiles of a keen hawk.


2019 May 20

*2nd Place

Writing Challenge 3, May 2019, Nature Haiku
~~Constance La France...

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My fair ladylove
How dare she saunters the halls
Taunting a man so graphically
She holds the very knowledge
That her figure is astonishing
It is to be concluded that she cherishes
Being the focus of my poems
She then exhibits herself quite flawlessly
Bearing equivocal fervor...

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In lieu of tempestuous behavior
Please read the words I write
A colloquium of emotions
Oh, what an equivocal sight

I'm a kleptomaniac of pain
Feeding off the reaction
A ventriloquist of theft
So idiosyncratic

And in this conglomeration
Of acculturation by design
I live life by a pseudoynm
Pretending that it's mine...

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You eradicated my heart with your crooked ways 
Everything I see now is a mist haze 
You fukked with my head, messed with my mind 
Fukked with my emotions, and left me behind 
Well fukk you and you paltry heart 
I feel equivocal now we’re apart 
You infringed my mind and now I feel bleak 
You are detrimental and that’s why I’m weak...

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Emblemed traces hidden inside me
are the dismantles of one-way love.
You held me loose asunder 
at the precipice of your chasm.
My prudent heart hid no love
I bled each drop at your cup
you apparently found every bit
an equivocal grotesque.
Over the ages, I've trekked
finding not even single flower
with flamboyant petal
to entice my desires.
So I find myself at the monument 
exhuming a catastrophe of love....

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Life is but a bliss .....
What an equivocal phrase,
For some, it's just a memory, a journey
of fast paced days


To me, it's unending dreams,
a vision blurred by pride
of undecided destiny's of world's that collide


When is it enough to know your deeper self
to awaken every aspect of a curious little soul

Adventurous it seems
to light that path of dreams
to make it through those gates
of pearls and golden beams

Life is but a bliss .....
our reality, our dreams....

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We always called Cassandras
immature the way she ran
through town with her electric hair
and torn clothes, telling us
that we already know:
that regiment of clouds
that cloud bombard us soon
with snow, cloud burry us;
that art in an equivocal gift,
that every flower awaited
it's proper place
on out funeral wreaths.
We knew all of that
she waas our own child.
But once betrothed to grief.
What could we do but morn?
we let her speak and speak,
all words so angry
are metephors....

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