The day, the soil lab took care of him, and I sighed
Categorical exclusion, You were there, but almost Nye!
My outspoken, my hidden, my own darker trace
My grace, rancid disgrace, my song and my own mess
Did I ever tell you? I loved you with all my heart, I loved you all!
I had no desire, there, my nihilistic call, they are not an easy Pickthall!
I startled, I stumbled , I ran, I walk and I snore, sneeze and yawn!
I craft and in my propeller shaft, I fly, with flying try, I try simply not to frown!
These are not all stemming from me, these are the imprinting gemstones of praying tea
You are a done deal only to compose , not to take heed before you even try to say, once again to me!
These are white lies, your sweater moment drops on your life, legend and universal truth
And all they say is to look after your giggling imagism before it handles him too, to soothe beneath the bluetooth!
April, 2025
(Twelve beautiful lines )
You sighed...
... but none heard.
You were angry,
Met only with stares from innocent minds.
... Then you cried
In the mystique of the night,
Muffled sobs escaping to the horizon.
You longed for the company of a muscled arm,
More than sympathy from tale bearers.
You wished for a warm bed on winter’s morn—
... but there was none.
Like the runaway proverbial son,
He abandoned you for another,
Leaving in his wake four likenesses of himself.
My friend once sighed
That he watches planes fly by
And wonders where they’re going.
The world’s tempo beats on.
I, too, prefer to stop along
The way and watch a small thing.
I congratulate the weed
That grew from a wayside seed
And survives in the sidewalk’s crack.
I notice when raindrops descend
That the roads shine iridescent
Then dry again to a flat black.
I observe a bird’s funny walk -
Watching its head bob and cock -
Such a comedian!
I sit aside the freeway by the river
To watch busy cars drive there –
So calm I am.
If I sighed
forgive me,
it was but a momentary pause
an inner sadness
holding back the tear
breathed quietly in retrospect
within the visionary images
of what was
and all
that could have been.
7/12/13
Chantelle Cooke's
what makes you sigh?
The sleeping sky is cloudy
And creates a veil over the lying minds.
Like a festival, the cemetery is alluded,
And turns to a hunting ground.
Open Graves and pits -
They lived.
Crowd of faces in their shades,
To amaze those preys.
Reefs and sheets they laid
On the unseen skins of the deceased
To commemorate their ways,
In spite of the deaths unperceived.
Decorating - they decorate the undecorated,
Whose lives cannot be consecrated.
The clock ticks, and time's fastened
In memories imprisoned.
Candles that could not light
Their lives any longer,
Cries that won't see them in tight;
Yet, they restitute their hunger.
They, lying there wished to smile,
But are thousand miles -
Though sighed at the benevolent pride,
But embraced their newest mild.
© Prince Tardeh
The sands of time flow toward the mortal sea,
Quickly, as a river - fast and free,
Everything that we abide,
Carried on its tide.
Life's first breath -
Cried ...
Its last, death,
A final hope, sighed.
Thus, we value life in stride,
Standing on the shore where we can see
The sands of time flow toward the mortal sea.
Written and submitted on November 10, 2018
For the "Andaree Poem" Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.
* Syllables counted at HowManySyllables.com. *
Fixated, I saw them sway,
Breeze playing with leaves;reminded of routine,
I sighed and trotted away!
There are sparrows in the hedgerows
All aflutter and sounding distraught,
Twittering and constantly muttering
Over things that Man has wrought,
His philosophy over the years show
In our own cunning we’ve been caught.
‘Accelerate the growth of food,
The wheat and corn and rye,
Force feed soils with chemicals
And watch stalks touch the sky.’
But the ground seemed to move
And heave a heavy sigh.
There are salmon and rainbow trout
Swimming up river and stream
Eager to avoid the fisherman’s hook
And evade his cherished dream;
And if you stand still and listen carefully,
You can almost hear them scream.
‘Reel in all the fishes,
On their flesh we’ll have our fill,
Don’t worry about tomorrow
There’ll be some left still.’
And the stream seemed to shiver
At Man’s cold and callous will.
There are those who look at hedgerows
And rivers when on a country walk
And, carefully considering the countryside
They recoil, it makes them baulk;
If the country had a voice they wonder,
Of what words would it talk?
It started many years ago
the quest for freedom all aglow.
The founders of this nations pride
The melting pot for freedom"sighed."
"united we stand-divided we fall",
seems to be a problem after all.
Marches for freedom as they tried.
The melting pot for freedom"sighed."
Prayers are band from schools today.
That's our freedom taken away.
Oh, the tears so many cried.
The melting pot for freedom"sighed"
Commandments on the courthouse wall,
an upright way for one and all.
They took it down forever to hide.
The melting pot for freedom "sighed."
Distant sounds of four fathers cry.
This whole countries gone array.
The freedom held dear, true and tried.
The melting pot for freedom"sighed."
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