Short Gestate Poems

New thoughts flit in and out
  that deserve a kinder fate
If they'd only meet resistance
  Perhaps they would gestate...

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Listen to poem:

What The Friggin
Happened here mate.
I thought we had a date
Now you're late
Where's the bait?
I've burnt the steak.
You're a flippin' 
flagellate.
Get off your tailgate
and get over here
and gestate.
You friggin'
degenerate
cheapskate....

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Borborgymus, Borborgymi,
Eructate so delightfully!
I ruminate, throat tickles late,
And choking, I gesticulate.
I just ate but I don’t gestate.
Who throws the voice? Seems I’m the dummy.
Ventriloquist and talking tummy.
Borborgymi, Borborgymus
A lovely word, why all the fuss?

H/T to Milt’s Mysterious Rumbling Noises...

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transfixed
                  by silence
                  quietness
surrounds
encompasses
                       thoughts
on
hold
            waiting
                  patiently
in
a
            vacuum
tedium
at
                    bay
                    ideas
gestate
germinate
                  slowly
synthesise
into
              verse...

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What makes a woman a mother?
Is it only because they can gestate?
Or is it the will to nurture,
A being that they did create,

Making a new being,
Is not that difficult,
All animals have done it for millennia.
So why do many humans,
Chose to be only to be a participant?

If taking responsibility,
For a new gift to the world,
Gives a phenomenal asset to the human collective,
Is that the ultimate reward?...

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I rest in the memory
of things that I’ve loved
where time is not finite
 below or above
These pockets of joy
hold the key to my fate
as the dreams of my father
in slumber gestate
To live past tomorrow
diving deep in the past
with time still a virgin
the moment to last
And rise resurrected
each day with the sun
knowing fortune awaits me
—when sleep again comes

(Rosemont Pennsylvania: December, 2021)...

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COPLA SUELTA: The One and the Same Dream

If you must dream the dream I dream
Then the dream comes true when you wake
But who dreams first

Yet if you wake before the dream
Has had time to gestate and make
The dream will burst

Is there only one dream out there
The kind we watch ponder record
And hang up high

Then if you never dream or dare
To think what lies beyond the word
The dream will die.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013...

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yearning  
         to
release 
  the inner self
     being
 bold
      never 
to hesitate

           as ideas 
gestate
not  letting
      the moment pass

drawing
  back the veil
    to  let 
 imagination 
set sail
the exploration
 starts

   those poeima
        gifts 
free 
  from above
            free to deploy
each earthly day
        sent to enjoy

I
capture 
               the rapture...

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when the brain is bold
the pen is pregnant;
and nine months stretch
out over an inch 
under the title still
like expectant father
waiting for a kick
and you’ll feel a flurry
but knowing this can be a trick,
those uterine lines
need nutrition,
don’t tear at that gut feeling:
let them gestate for
monday evenings
exceptional in convention
when your lady spills her drink
all over the bathroom floor,
and now your water’s breaking, too
all down your cheeks
and onto your
baby....

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