Short Replicate Poems

Growth is self-similar
Patterns timed to replicate
Destiny is the designer....

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Fraudulent scholars
Practicing love verbatim
Read from their grimoires
Hence they'll never replicate
Magic coming from the heart...

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Trifles of 
          frivolity
& intrigue-
ensemble of
    the esoteric,
gravitate
with audacity,
replicate
     the mundane
in complex
               transpositions...

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Why make everything complex
Complicate, replicate, concave, or convex?
I am a strong proponent of simplifying
If there’s a problem, it’s for rectifying!

written November 29, 2021...

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A thousand words could decorate 
Each mile that separates us, 
And a thousand more could never
Replicate the world you make for me.

I’ll always offer more than words,
So you will always be aware 
That I love the very bones of you;
I love their white ferocious snow....

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A frozen cavalcade
Silent gardens wait
Sure relief, a softer gait

Rushing forward into life
All forms replicate delight
For longer day and shorter night

While shadows draw a longer form
The plight of all – survival wanes 
As winter stops the band again...

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I sit soaked with my lover within my arms 
Chest to back our bliss is conjoined 
Sharing my definition with her curves  
Words do not replicate the outer body experience
Time has frozen stiff, while we move freely 
I am hers and she is mine in this time 
One moment that we will never get back...

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Many flakes
It takes to make 
A snowman 
Little sisters
Little brothers
Make no mistake
Flakes melt and cake
And some are flakier
Than others
The silent fake
For it’s own sake
May replicate
One then another
And float to ground
Without a sound
To lie unfound
A faithless
Lover

by Gail...

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Disguise in smile hold fogy space
           Surge wonders  harvest  in cell
Replicate  its  surrogate  surreal
           Munster washed  roam its place

Nevertheless in realm hidden  to unknown 
             Well known  replicates  countless
  Unknown misplace a seldom symbol
           All bets  runs in open window...

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14:Passages plot themselves on maps
To get you somewhere.
Pour your soul into a hollow vessel
For the archaeologist to find.
To replicate each moment’s sound
Will never bring satisfaction
perhaps exaggerate boredom
Definitely annoy reactions
Because the vessel's form is unnecessary
There is no catch-all for past rains....

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Ominous echoes 
hush the song of eternity.

Sky is an ember:
Black and red and untouchable.

Night extends 
Till day seems impossible.

Echoes stab the night
Till it crumbles over our heads.

The air bleeds.
The eyes fall shut

Seeking an escape,
Yet the violent glares blind.

Merciless glares replicate;
The night is darker than ever....

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When I hold a door open for a woman;
Doesn't mean I love her;
It's just a polite/righteous thing to do;

If I let you go in front of me in line;
doesn't replicate anything thing out of time;
No rhythm no rhyme;

Just a polite/righteous thing to do;
Won't you try it be a blessing, be true!

There's no rhyme nor reason to be polite in any season...

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A melody heard in an ethereal way
paraded through her composer’s mind
She listened in awe, aware of its beauty
Who would believe it? Could she replicate it?
Determined to try, she picked up her pen.

Who sent it? Her angels?
Power animals? Spirit guides?
The tune was heavenly.
Surely it had been developed there first.
She felt guilty taking the credit....

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No soaring airplane built today
Can carry me as far away
As does my wife’s inviting glance
When time arrives for more romance,

And when I walk and hold her hand
No orchestra or marching band
Can replicate the cheerful song
That burbles up and tags along—

How blessed I am with boundless love,
Eternal gift from God above;
This woman many years my wife
Is friend and lover through my life....

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Salt water taffy orchestrated,
pouring grain and sweating.
Spinning my silhouette,
as the dog failed his frisbees.

It doesn' let the sun’s rays wash over me,
replicate large wooden planks,
for heart boardwalking day by day.

Sandbars can sometimes be paramour,
idyllic feeding high memories.
So blue as seashells with a spiral pattern.
Averse to an occasional dalliance,
enthralling you, God....

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I wrote six poems in my car on my way to school
Put my phone on record, which is my general rule
It only picked up about half of what I said
I am irritated now, for these were the best in my head

Surely you can replicate them said a non-writer
He’s lucky that I have no weapons and am not a fighter.
His attitude irritated me all the way to Albany and back.
I lamented to my animals, Big Bone and Little Merry Mack....

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Heart blushes
Full of threat
As the blood swims on the inner
Carries danger on its hosts
Infections amidst

Cells stopped dancing
As the virus replicate
Immunity shut down
Nerves get crazier

The brain sings a lonely tune
As the body waved goodbye
Never imagined that one pleasure
Will bring an unwanted harm
The system has surrendered
Death applauded for its wait
The physique is now gray
Eyes closed as the viral paved way...

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Oceans sustain
Sometimes in vein
Procreate life to remain

Oceans breed
Bleed indeed
Proliferate that decreed

Oceans mediate
The lowly reprobate
In tides which duplicate

Oceans fluctuate
Repeatedly replicate
What God doth advocate

Oceans hide
Places provide
Crucibles which collide

Oceans strive
Remain alive
Contrive, derive and survive 

Oceans are
Therefore by far
Marvels a bizarre repertoire...

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Mamba, you were, are, and will be a legend,

You have introduced many to the game,
we learn your extent of perseverance and, determination,
without disruption, 
not easy to replicate,
yet, we try to emulate.

Remember, the story doesn't end here,
your motivation and legacy will not go in vain,
to make life  good, 
we must look,
into your experiences and broaden our outlook.

Mamba, you were, are, and will be a legend!!...

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last night as I got high
you were invited.
we could have been
high---
perpendicular to solstice
parallel to columns 
that replicate the
universe.
we could have been --within--
transparent amidst hungry, shallow
thoughts 
that bring night
full circle ---within-- 
it's calculated 
soft
silence. 
last night I got high within the syllables that form your name---
drawing close to the distance---
to your energy.....high....

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a fallen log lies in the yard.
Can imagination rescue and recycle it?
Beauty of flowers could enhance and warm it

stump of an oak
ingenuity could possibly salvage it
healthy green plant can enlighten and enliven it

all it takes is an idea person
with touch of a master gardener
My neighbor shows proof of this
All over her yard

I see and am intrigued and delighted
Wondering if I could ever replicate her
enthusiasm and imagination?...

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Knowing you
Makes me see what
Earth borrowed from you
And hides

Body of my woman
Hills and valleys
Replicate your lustre 
And I lost myself
In your tranquility

Probing eyes
Proclaiming lustful ownership 
Smearing you
With filthy parables
Sharp tongues
Dissecting your flight

To peel your tattoos
In despair
I murder a scarecrow
Who swallowed the key
To sorcery of hypocrites
And I am left
With nothing 
But spells of sadness...

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If I want to circumscribe you
To revolve around you
With you as the centre
Will you let me?

If I want to plagiarize you
To replicate you
Word by word
Will you let me?

If I want to drench you with love
Emptying my heart
Ever, forever
To the brink of insolvency,
Will you let me?

Will you let me be,
Will you let me be around you?
Will you let me sing to you?
Will you let me dance to your tunes?
Will you let me love you???

@ Som...

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We know the dire story of Jekyll and Hyde
Where a man’s potion made his nature divide.
In real life, it’s not easy to separate
Ourselves like eggs and potatoes on a plate.
If man is made in God’s image, then it’s fate
That God has some evil, and men replicate.
Everyone, everywhere, has a bit of both -
There’s evil in us all, a cancerous growth.
You might look at yourself and ponder on, sir,
Which is Frankenstein and which is the monSTER?...

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Mysterious clock dancers have a way of gliding no one can replicate.
They travel through the fog of London, past many a garden gate.
We had not heard of them until the death of our Great Aunt Kate.
Their mystical magical way of moving is something no one can duplicate.
Many see them coming and wonder about their peculiar fate.
They slip and slide in and out of cosmic portals, in an ethereal state.
Mysterious clock dancers have a way of gliding no one can replicate....

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