"If
It ain't
Broken, don't
Fix it", and yet
I'd been nothing but
A toy, a doll to dress.
It was so easy as kids
To make up scenarios that
Would magically fix our broken hopes;
Back then, we were allowed to cry freely.
"There's no use crying over spilt milk -"
I get it now, so stop talking;
At the window where I hoped
That I'd fly if I jumped,
My tears had dried up
And soured like
Some useless
Dried-up
Drink.
He was strong in life
But even stronger in death
He refused to be forgotten
So he stained the pavement in his blood
A haunting reminder of what was done
His blood spoke more than words could
It's echo mourned his childhood
To his friends and family he was the embodiment of love
To the system they called him a thug
How can that be right When they are administering violence upon us
The Winners of life are the corrupt
Whilst the losers are the innocent
And we are supposed to call this a just system
I mean after all you'll allow murder
As long as the victim is a black person
His family forever changed
By death
Something they just swept away
But his mother knew his strength
And how his story would forever be stained on the pavement
So anyone who walked on his dried spilled blood
Would feel the weight of what was done
This would be his Justice
Even in death
He would not be silenced
Laughter and love
Light hearted yet serious
A touch and a smile
Oops a little wine spilled
A rush and an experience
Here, take a bite
The music all around us
And yet we're alone
Laughter and love
Lighthearted yet serious
We walk hand in hand
A story untold
I'll love you forever
And ever and ever
Time stands still for us and
Oops a little wine spilled
You said
You understood
Why I wanted to end it
And I said I was glad
But suddenly I'm not
I guess
I hoped that
you'd fight for us
a little more
Though I have no right
to ask that
Seeing as I made
the decision
I regret it
Like you regret
drinking tea too quickly
On a snowy day
Burning
the roof of your mouth
When all you wanted
Was soft warmth
But I needed that tea
To keep me
from getting sick
And in my mind
Somewhere in my mind
where I won't reach
I want to go back
And tell you it was a joke
It was a
misunderstanding
Just something
that'd make you want me back
The tea has already spilled
And I can't clean it up now
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
As The Candle Light Burns
Entwined together amid the sounds of the night
As the candle burns, making silhouettes in fire's light
Eye to eye, roaming fingers, and your sweetest kiss
No night could ever be any better than this
Lovers lost to the wonders of our poetic dream
Sharing wine with juicy berries and whipped cream
Two potent souls expressing their romantic powers
On and on we continue for hours and hours
Spurred into motion by the gleam in your eyes
Molten hearts with souls burning, that never lies
Part of this romantic dream as the candlelight burns
Soft soothing words and in our eyes desire still yearns
Taking us up to Heaven's shimmering Ivory towers
Where we spend all of love's happiest hours
Loving with all our heart, the greatest thing alive
As the candlelight burns showing love is to thrive
No, you cannot turn back time,
although you may want to;
When a poet writes a new rhyme
words capture just how those days flew;
Maybe that’s the magic of love;
An assortment of building blocks,
there is nothing to dispose of;
The past plays through an old jukebox;
Revisiting moments dug up
fitting your life in a puzzle;
Spilled art from a very full cup,
sometimes hell but so beautiful.
When inspiration obstinately runs low,
And ink stains drench an old copy.
Yet verses silently deny to flow,
While thoughts are damn sloppy.
And ink stains drench an old copy;
As she aspires to get rid of her blues.
While thoughts are damn sloppy,
Seeking desperately for a muse.
As she aspires to get rid of her blues,
Her eyes slowly alighted on ethereal aesthetic grace.
Seeking desperately for a muse;
Rhapsodies of praises she wishes to embrace.
Her eyes slowly alighted on ethereal aesthetic grace;
Motivation imprints the poetess to properly play her role.
Rhapsodies of praises she wishes to embrace,
But situations are skillful to sway a poetic soul!
Motivation imprints the poetess to properly play her role,
Yet verses silently deny to flow!
But situations are skillful to sway a poetic soul,
When inspiration obstinately runs low.
©light_flame
Name of the Contest: PANTOUM ON WRITING POETRY
Name of the Sponser: L MILTON HANKINS
Date of the Poem: 2nd December 2022
Night has spilled it's crimson chalice
across the horizon
Feathered color spreads along the bottom
of the bone white clouds
the center ball slips too soon below
and from the spilt chalice flows
navy darkness....and ever deepening ink
creeping and seeping
chasing the color down
lowing it all away
Then from the highest heights piercing
pin points of light
and rising up to them...
with tomorrow's sun
refecting
off the blasted surface
A white grey moon
to haunt and woo
It's light
kissing the wave tips
stealing the brilliant bait from each
and running up into me
I am lost in the shimmering
serenade
Swayed into a hope... I didn't see coming
Bedazzled and bejeweled in enticing light
as if the shore and sky could join
inside me
like a wafting song that floats in the night
I stop and hold my breath...to listen and not miss one
note
As the sun rises the horizon's soft serrated edges spill vanilla cream;
a shrouded girl feels crystal flakes on her face as she walks separate from the group of students within the milled land
asleep still within a dream.
A tiny abandoned bird's nest is revealed amongst a tree's
branches, with berries that cling...the billowy clouds above slide away.
The birds flit about as the girl later paints their colors as her wings, upon which the sun glides across a new day.
January 14, 2022
Owner gone, water bowl has spilled, and my anger is about to burst.
I won't die, I thought to myself in the morning, not concerned at first.
I accidentally slipped in that water, and my fur is thick and feels icky.
I am wet and mad and mean and disappointed and feeling sticky.
But licking water off my pretty fur is not going to satisfy me very long.
Dog offered to share her water bowl, but drinking after dogs is wrong!
So here I sit, in the crappiest of moods, expecting the worst actually.
I know Owner usually comes home but this is what I see, so factually.
Dog is lazy beast, passing gas so badly it makes this puss want to gag.
I decide to stuff something in his mouth, maybe a mildewing dish rag.
Hey! The sink’s faucet is dripping. I can hear it. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’m not supposed to be on the counter, but this is a necessary trip.
I have to stretch my elongated pink tongue to get a little taste of H2O.
What else can a dying cat do? I stretch and get water on my nose.
My tongue snakes out mightily. I get a little taste, ah, refreshing drink.
A voice comes into my ears quickly. ”What are you doing in my SINK?”
Spilled.
.
Spilled an ocean of hurt and anguish
Over my lost formative years
When my lonely betrayed heart
So full of pain couldn’t take no more pain
And burst into acid burning tears
.
The frightened unloved inner child
That never saw the sun
And never learned to smile
And who crawled on broken glass
My hands tied
My feet chained and bound
With an iron clasp
.
So many promises made
So many never kept
My heart battered and bruised
A fallen tumbling leaf windswept
Pulled one way then the other
Ripped and torn apart
But never a hater
But a bewildered lover
.
An emotional punchbag
Bursting at the seams
For others to unleash their narcissistic
Neurotic tendencies and venom
Like a sailing ship floundered
Crashed upon jiggered tarring rocks
Then to sink like a mullion unfulfilled dreams
.
I lust for hemlocks poison to bite
And end my torrid nightmare
A never ending cursed night
And vanish into unknown obscurity
And the emptiness of oblivion
The sweet release
Peace at last.
.
Peter Dome©2021.
Craziest Time at the Time of Spilled Soup
I spilled a bowl of vegetable soup –
Slipped on the shiny waxed floor;
The scene I saw made my muse utter expletives –
Fainting in horror at the kitchen door.
Choruses of carrots crushed on the curtains
Prose of Potatoes pelted the windowpanes
Lyrics of limas littered the linoleum
Odes of onions overturned on the oven
Turnips of Thesaurus tumbling free
Sonnets of seasoning scorched on the stove top
Epics of eggplant - emjambment escaping
Ballads of beets beat feet to the back porch
Meters of mushrooms marching on marble
Verses of “vege’s” with visible vertigo
Prosody of pumpkin all over the place
Rhymes of rutabagas running-a-muck
Blues of black beans bashed in the butler’s pantry
Couplets of croutons covered the ceiling
Free verse of fiddleheads floats by the “frig”
Sestinas of spinach stuck to the sink.
Oh, what a sight of poetic distress –
Letters and phrases all over the space
Carefully sorted all the rhythms and rhymes
Put everything back in its proper place.
Craziest time at the time of spilled soup!
8/5/20
166 words
Choice #1
A true writer when consigned to their virus induced self-isolation
Might want to consider turning over in bed for hot contemplation
Passion cannot be subdued by staying at home for an interim stay
But once you have bedsores you can’t even shop for emollient spray
If you are lucky to share undercover mission with a like-minded soul
Change perspective paradigm and position but don’t fight for control
Poetry is no competition but a contagious need for sharing and caring
Sharpen your quill and be receptive because two scripts make a pairing
When words fail lie speechless and gather momentum for further action
Of mind soul and body until figures of speech gain metaphorical traction
Epic love stories aren’t written in one short night on an immaculate sheet
And when the curfew curtain draws longer do not refrain but press on repeat
28th arch 2020
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