It's easy to understand
That wings and wind
go hand in hand,
even if the wind is thin
Birds and other fowls,
Whether those who prowl
For prey, nesting far away,
Or those we see everyday.
Above the white clouds
Of beauty and tranquility,
Airplanes cruising speedily,
Need wind to keep them steadily.
With wings and wind, birds and planes
Sometime fly in the same lanes.
Sometime blinded by fog or falling rain,
Must be careful to avoid much pain.
Play, tiny kitty, no more in fear,
Come away from the shelter with me,
Enjoy, be happy, live a life dear!
Grow, little kitty, the world is yours,
Tiny kitty no longer you be,
Youth, now progressing, growing cat roars!
Rest, full-grown kitty, sit for the day,
As our memories build steadily,
Stay here beside me, don’t go away.
Sleep, senior kitty, passed to beyond,
Time here together, gone speedily,
Sweet little kitty, one special bond.
(5-21-26 For "Snapshots of a Night Scene" Contest Sponsor - Nette Onclaud)
Dusk slowly approaches, as their energy finally begins to wane. Half flat soccer balls
speedily sent down a grassless, asphalt field by crooked, knobby sticks.
Stubby chunks of chalk - pink, yellow, blue, white. Hopscotch squares already fading
Frayed jump ropes swinging up, around, and down,
their satisfying soft smacks on the ground, keeping rhythm.
Delighted squeals of joy, laughter, calling out of names to friends, classmates, neighbors, siblings...
Somehow, this view left me remembering
my days of young, pondering the timeless satisfactions and yearnings of youth.
Gentle raindrops begin to splat red and orange leaves, partially painted the weed-lined pavement
Small shadows scatter and go wherever it is they go when the night sets in.
As the fog rises from the creek
And dampness permeates
A truck speedily emerges
Shocking mind's concentrates
Out on the porch in this dense fog
Surrounded in moisture
Nature's voices silent apparently
This quiet annoys her
One more truck emerges from the fog
Then a muffled high-pitched
Sound, like a tire with a small leak
I looked around then switched
Through the heavy fog faintly see
Jet plane flying too low
I thought my hearing was about gone
To my eyes a long blow
Then totally out of my thoughts
I realize the fog caused
The plane to fly low and the sound
High pitched that brought my pause
Sat by the jetty overlooking the waters
of Tombia
Waves and ripples as boats drive
pass speedily
Passengers and luggage alike all
disembarking
All by the Tombia waterside in the
riverine Rivers
Free from the hustles and bustles bedevilling
Port Harcourt
The mayhem and chaos in the Oil city all left
behind in the city
Yet such serenity by the waters of Tombia
Piece, quiet and tranquility quieten my
stress
Trying to be patient, but my patience is
running riot
Trying to stay and remain calm by the waters
of Tombia.
Roasted peppered fish and plantains my
consolation.
All by the waterside of Tombia.
The breeze whispers in my ears:
My love refuses to join me for a ride.
Let's move out towards the sea
Over choppy waves on currents adrift.
See, my boat is in full speed,
My strong breeze has filled my sails.
And speedily all is glee.
The hot air on the beach is far behind.
For now, it's all fresh and clean.
Dolphins jump out of the waves,
Spraying droplets all around,
They go down again towards the deep.
The breeze helps me see wonders.
So blow as much as you need,
Until the hour approaches.
Crimson sunsets colour the distant bay.
Back I turn to my quiet quay.
Find haven in some quirky bar,
To drink a mug of cold beer.
Yet I feel all alone. Why have you left me?
The breeze whispers goodbye.
Perspiration is all over my face.
Loneliness grips my heart.
I will never find relief.
Inspired by the Song "The Breeze and I" sung by Caterina Valente.
POTD
Placed 2
Enticed, seduced, and speedily distilled,
stumbling dumbly, she trips into the arms
of decadence—(such hedonistic charms!)
—and finds her stubborn inhibitions spilled
in a puddle around her thoughts—and, stilled,
her mind is free (of any and all alarms (!) )
of worry, fear, and doubt—beyond all harms
she thunders for a fresh martini, chilled.
Teetering at the brink of another drink
she’s helpless against gravity’s stout
strength—down(and further still)into its wink
sinks the hopeless dupe into the abyss;
with more and more foaming from the spout,
she slips into a lethal, silent kiss—
Those we love don’t go away.
They walk beside us every day.
I don’t see this as consolation,
for I’d rather they enter the pearly gate.
Nevertheless, do they follow us,
the sorrowing cheek, somehow caress?
Some picture my mom and twin with
manhattans, a cheer of cherry juice.
At first, my nose held floral scents,
a couple whisps in dream accents.
I’d wake up speedily, as Grandma
was surely at the head of my bed.
I believe, when they go, they’re near.
They leave us with comfort, not fear.
Still they must click their heels
on fine streets of gold and meet God.
So, I’m not sold on my dear one,
being near, but rather having fun.
Can you imagine all the beautiful places
and soul after soul to celebrate with?
Yes, I believe they stay long enough to
say goodbye, to dry our tears, to few.
I long to walk beside them every day,
On the brighter side, they won’t go away.
Hark! The birds are driving me crazy
so lazy, to get up and fly with them
whirling my lasso finger ‘round
their wings, pulling them into my heart
a dart straight through, you never know when
hits you between the eyes, spirals spin
heartbroken; and the birds are driving me wild
winsome and carefree in the sunny breeze
whilst i soak in my pity, my heart squeezed
not my fault
not my plunge
that old feeling
of responsibility
it lingers
i’m in its clutches
it’s eating me for lunch
it’s for the birds
their leftover crumbs
tweeting, “remember this feeling…”
i want to speedily run, rolled into a ball
like a bug, hide in a dark corner
it’s fun, to be on the web
the birdsong sweetly, softly, gently
stays, it stays, never rushing off
like falling leaves
it is not my rule
but i’m on the staff paper
the notes squeezing
not pleasing
i must pray
and hope
that it doesn’t all fall
apart
the birds have stopped
morning’s over
morning glory
in
surrender
that would be perfect
maybe a touch excessive
as it's enormous
for just a basic meal deal
scissors and hair dye
of course there is the lipstick
but it will be fine
for several pairs of shoes
plus changes of clothes
when I get tomorrow's train
towards Manchester
speedily changing platforms
to another town
where landlords still accept cash
and don't ask questions
my bruises will fade in time
I will find a job
somehow I will start again
if I buy this bag
for me and my brand new life.
It's changing.....
Vastly and speedily before our eyes
O, Mother Gaia
Kali to Satya
A cyclic continuum...
Vestiges of a time before
Conspicuously and inconspicuously transitioning to
a new lore
From 'Iron' to 'Golden'
To new from olden
O, Mother Gaia
Kali to Satya
Social unrest, immorality, and stygian clouds
abound
A dark place where peace and love just
can't be found
But a new one is to come...
And it's far away from
Away from Kali...
To the golden truth and sincerity
No more masks will be worn in an occult-riddled
Gaia
Soon golden rays will shine light on the darkness in the
Dawn of Satya
Unswerving in your sincere actions,
stating the main purpose of intentions;
no venom is excreted from enlarged veins
without the fear of horrific moments!
Be grateful for the ample kindness shown,
never a trace of bitter sentiment or a frown;
eyes tear when crossing over the deep abyss
with the hesitation to discover its darkness!
Woeful are the darkest secrets kept to oneself,
when they're confessed they can be a relief;
pluck roses from their stems without bleeding:
thorns were Christ's crown proclaiming Him king!
Persistence is such a fortitude stronger than gold,
give someone a stone instead of sweet bread:
he will speedily fling it back and seek revenge;
treat everybody fairly and nobody will ever cringe!
Be infallible in your ultimate quest for beneficial change,
remain loyal to your peers, avoid conflict and treason;
if unfair judgment is implemented, let God be the judge:
sequels end when the pile of lies crumbles in soggy rain!
Faith binds spirit and heart to pursue holiness,
be a deviant and bear the direst consequences;
religion imposes punishment, society never does:
does freedom mean to do whatever one pleases?
The man went for a mountain run.
Telling his fiancé of his plans.
A sundial slowly waltzed on by...
But the man never came back.
They called in search and rescue.
They spread out far into the wild.
Loved ones posted a picture of him.
Donning the future's angelic smile.
The hours speedily turned into days.
The days bleeding into endless weeks.
White weather swallowed the mountain.
The search dwindled to nothing.
They said they'd resume the search.
When the weather cleared.
It was an especially devilish season.
So, they never really did.
Talk turned from hope to closure.
Blue hearts folded tight in prayer.
Quickly turned into paper airplanes.
On a lost flight called pure despair.
In the spring, his remains were found.
On the banks of a silver whisper.
The cause of death was undetermined.
I believe it was mostly due to living.
A memorial blossomed at the trailhead.
Some woven from his personal effects.
Things that had great meaning in his life
but were quite meaningless to death.
Time slips away like sand
As I try desperately to keep it in my hand
The days go by painfully slow
But months speedily flow
And I try to hold on to the vestiges of youth
But in doing so I deny the truth
So many chapters written on pages
And so many lost lessons from early ages
It seems like the more I blink
The deeper into the sand I sink
Wondering what I might have missed
As each day I feel like I merely persist
The passage of time is cruel
But also an indubitable rule
Youthful exuberance fades as I age
And I feel like a canary in a cage
With clipped wings I may no longer fly
As my beaten down body makes me cry
Grays in my hair, lines on my face
Gripped by despair, I'm out of place
But the days still go by painfully slow
As months greedily flow
The hourglass was once full of sand
But all I want is to flip it over in my hand
Her hip was decidedly dickey
She was not as flexible as before
Various joints were complaining
She had trouble getting up from the floor
She was not as young as she was
Bits of her were definitely aging
Inside she didn't feel any different
But the outside was certainly fading
So it was time to get some help
It was time to stop mucking around
Before her get up and go had gone
Some form of exercise had to be found
Yoga seemed the logical choice
She welcomed it with warm embrace
Soon she would feel twenty again
Dream on! If only that were the case
The poses were near on impossible
With names like ‘warrior’, ‘pigeon’ and ‘tree’
Every muscle she possessed rebelled
She desperately wanted to flee
Would anyone notice if she left?
Could she creep out the door unseen?
Thankful for a moment’s distraction
She speedily fled from the scene
So if she wasn't going to exercise
In order to be able to rise and shine
She was just going have to live with it
And drink a helluva lot of wine
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