Short Histories Poems

back roads are paths
to some unknown histories
that lead to Beauty.......

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In river of dreams

floating past our histories

we drifted along

swept up in life mysteries

off edge of reality



Written 2-28-2016...

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The knights that in histories lurk,
They never wore spandex to work.
O’er heroes today
That dress in this way,
The dragons, they snort and they smirk.
...

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Kaleidoscopic Myths 



That sky is the limit.

Yet star-bursted stories

Will shower galaxies

With deepest mysteries

And dark oceanic

Creatures  and  histories. 
...

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 ' Time ' 
 It's valour .
The
Innumerable mysteries ,
Memorable histories .
Illegal streaks ,
With
Lovable piques .
But the time 
For you , 
Its never bleak .

So live the moment the, 
Destiny ...

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A sky once covering is now falling upon us
Destroying histories where societies stood
Taking without clues, lives truly enriched
Flooding away a past, eroding the memories
Becoming only pertaining to moving forward
An ending, for certain, not maybe or could...

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Vibrations quiver in smoke-filled
volcanoes or parlors not much
difference.

You suck mine, I'll suck yours
both of us feelin'
for stuff that don't suck.

The difference between a fist and a
palm.. umm..
why is that not “duh!!”?

Mysteries, histories
and so on......

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Tires grind,
Long car rides,
Never seize memories.
Wheels turning,
Forever thinking,
The next step.
Prepping myself,
For outcomes,
In the past.
Lasting through the present,
Giving future mistakes,
Taking fates turn.
Writing histories pretense,
While running out,
Of Time,
To exist....

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BY THE RIVERSIDE

As I sat by the riverside,
Calm and running wild
Deep inside of me, waves clash
Sabre-rattling for supremacy

As I sat by the riverside,
Blurred images, fleeting past
Renaissance, reminiscence
Pruning past histories

As I sat by the riverside,
A macabre dance of swords
Flash of imagery...

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These stone eyes devour
chiselled by the empty rain
buffed by the dust of histories remnants
Touching life with crackled fingertips
The portent unformed smile
that labours at the stone hearts
that drift forever by
Punished wings that mock
at feet unmoved
Pass me with your time
Unfelt this obelisk heart of mine...

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He called the night air
Soft pads, she was there
Flashing eyes in joy greet
Alpha male now complete

Hunters moon doth guide
As pad and path confide
Fear rules, scenting air
Danger lurks, all is care

Forest home, gently stride
Stars above act as guide
King of all except for man
Histories lesson, avoid if can...

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I wish I had the voice of a bird in flight, 
To sing melodies of love and light, 
To capture moments in a timeless rhyme, And weave emotions through space and time.

A poetry that speaks of life's mysteries, Of love, loss, and all its histories. 
A language that whispers to the heart, Guiding souls from worlds apart....

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before script
stories
before their histories
told in rhyme and verse
so early humans
can remember
as they wander
gathering plants
they eat
stories
seek
inspiration of land
of flora and fauna
of the song in the wind
they’ve come to know
of mating
before love
lives metered
shaping realities
of tribal minds...

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We jumped into a river of dreams... together

Lazily drifted over histories... swept up in life mysteries

Swift current dropped over edge of reality... back on dry land... alone


Written 2-18-2016

For 'River of Dreams' (three line poem or 3 Monoku)
By  Poet Destroyer A
Form Chosen: Three line poem

Tenth Place...

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Biographies of different kinds
Orwell with Atwood, intertwined
Old books, new books, a thousand rhymes
Keeping their words, holding those lines
Singing caged birds, sit whistling chimes
Histories, mysteries, marking time
Every volume, fixed on my mind
Lexicons, for a world we can't find
Fact versus fiction, yours and mine.
...

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sacrificing self for better or worse is almost too much
the exact outcome's unknown and you do lose not win

you now know blindness but one day may see truth
rather than just what's true there then not here now

the stage is a play written so many time cycles ago
as histories clock and the actors obituary measure


stan sand...

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Listen to poem:

Magical madrigal mystical minstrels making melodies

Radical refrains remaining retaining righteous remedies

Virginal virtuous vibrational verses voicing victories

Harmonical heavenly healing helping heroical histories






Jan.16.2020
Twist my Tongue
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter

N/A for contest...

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aliens talking
and humans understanding
that's a deep problem

histories meanings
are language evolution
in any speech form

cognition is skill
what number the dimensions
aliens see through

repetitions build
communication word skills
showing examples

what common contexts
mean translation of meaning
to us and to them


stan sand...

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Born of the human race;
Having fallen from grace;

We have committed sin.
Before our life begins.

Cruel concept some say;
Adam’s guilt was conveyed;

Matters not in the end;
Calvary’s cross did mend;

We have been forgiven.
For forever living;

Simply except the gift;
Healing histories rift;

Now as you shall forgive;
You shall be forgiven....

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at the art museum
I saw paintings
         sculptures and 
         prints
and read their descriptions
                their stories
                their histories and 
                their reasons
some of the the descriptions 
                were a work or art

unfortunately 
in some cases the descriptions 
were or made the work of art art

...

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The toilet cleaner
A tough stains remover
A germs killer
An odour refreshener
A smart cleaner
Even the dirtiest place 
Will shine again
But never for the curses from our mouths
But never for  the devils in our hearts
But never for the guilty stains in our histories
And so urgently to be found
The super cleaner
And so urgently wanted
The super cleaner...

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Post mark officials bleed into me
Redundant spell of auction burning
The microillusion out the back of skull
Near emerald waters with midnight pearl

Shining their mystery in the morning
Bereft of goals, spinning seagulls
Rewind ripples out of origin

To be among men and books
Lightning strikes frozen lips
Thawing histories of the past
As curtains draw on a closing era...

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Entertainment


All we talk about
is death. We see it
on TV as casual as
sports. It's

empty death, non-heros
suddenly vanished from the script.
We don't live with histories,
only empty-eyed stories.

We say goodbye with
one-syllable whistles
and finger flicks. Blood
is a decoration

that entertains us with
seriousness. We know
how goodbye is a joke
we needn't really tell....

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curious leaves
riding a summer breeze
dancing around
unveiled mysteries
uncover profound
hush hush histories
bust a squirt of lust
sex is best remedy

sexy short skirts
and 
long leg works
the sight of a lonely woman
makes my heart hurt
I'm a nice guy
but they prefer the popular jerks
I guess that's the way love works
I guess being a jerk
has it's hidden perks...

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BUGS!HAVE BUGS,THAT ALSO HAVE BUGS.
WITH KIN AND HISTORIES SELDOMLY DUG.
WITH HAMMERS AND CHISSELS WRONGFULLY USED.
AND COPYCAT FAILURES ALL BEING CONFUSED.
STEP FORWARD THE CRUSHING FOOT.
THE UNKNOWING TORTURORS ARE IN CAHOOTS.
INBORN SURVIVORS ARE BLESSED PROOF.
ONE SINGLE BUGS ENOGH TO MOVE.
THOUGH ALL THE MIGHTY  THUNDER  OVERHEAD.
A BUG IS SAFELY IN ITS OWN DOMAIN...in bed!...

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