The cardboard cylinder begins
to peek,
The prognosis is grim, the
outlook is bleak.
Only three sheets left on this
spinning white wheel,
And I'm starting to think about
how I should feel.
The plush, quilted days of my
youth have all passed,
When I unrolled with abandon
and lived life as fast.
Now the perforations are
marking the clock,
As I desperately downsize my
remaining stock.
Will I go out on glory, a two-ply
embrace?
Or be wiped from existence
with no saving grace?
The roll spins much faster the
closer it gets
To the end of the tube and a pile
of regrets.
I am down to the glue on the
very last square,
Just a ghost of a tissue, a
whisper of air.
So remember me kindly,
unspoiled and undone,
It was a beautiful, two-ply,
magnificent run.
One- Liner
Like the last square of paper
on a spinning brown roll,
we're all just clinging to the
cardboard at the end of the
bowl.
Grow strong but remember your roots,
explore the world yet seek what is still.
Moment to moment find what suits.
When we let go and tumble downhill,
those hard rolls ignite that inner core.
Nurturing soil brings a spiritual refill.
With just one taste left wanting more,
mastering rules bosses stacks wins.
Don’t aim simply to even the score.
Fly a little bit higher lifted by flat-spins,
embrace the past as you shed old skins.
she spins, she twirls, she shakes and laughs
young and athletic, your age by half of half
you love watching her moves, remembering
when twirling and dancing were also your thing.
A sitting takes me to an attic of raw light
bestowing quiet glow for travelers
unyielding to a precise compass
of direction, a spaceless space nourished as it
were, losing the self to Bodhi-like clouds
and nomadic lotus spins.
I release this soul buried
in the kundalini to a congregation
of ambient tunes saying nothing,
taking flight unto a hymn of
unknown center , balanced
and steadily grounded--
no more weight or cities divided
united by forms of one core,
My malleable flesh dissolving into tiny
breaths; it floats with grace
ascending the next chi
as I go deep, deeper..high, higher
until this my body- mind- spirit marries
in a ceremony of quietude,
the airiness of journeying
through this unshaped season
fed by something
unbidden in my life so blessed:
I step outside my body, somewhere,
without a trace that lightbeams
expand my journey to higher dimension
searching for a mantra of stars....
enjoy every minute ~
AP: 1st place 2025
...... ..................Life spins around and around,
an endless cycle of love and sound.
Beginning where it ends, it goes,
like rivers that the ocean knows.
Flowing gently, never still,
life returns as it always will.
The circle moves, the journey's true,
bringing us back to what's brand new.
Endless and eternal, forever to be,
a circle of life, wild and free.
Round and round, as life shows,
where it ends, no one knows.
Life spins around and around,
in a pattern so profound.
It weaves our fates,
in endless states.
Round and round,
without a sound.
Always there,
everywhere.
Life spins,
begins,
ends.
Life spins on a carousel of shadows and stars,
A mystic ball that clothes us in dance steps, with them.
The tango of fate steals us into its hazy whirl,
And each step becomes a heated battle, ablaze.
When the world spins a thread too thin, too mundane,
Cha-cha awakens our senses, an astral spice.
I fly to work in a daily hustle, muted,
Through the foxtrot of the hour I feel the moments bow.
We glide home in the free, tumultuous jitterbug,
For there hides the meaning, in the hokey-pokey sacrosanct.
On tranquil days, we waltz lightly, the moon caught us in play,
It spins us round and round in its fortunate cosmos.
In a circle we live, we spin destinies, we align tangents,
When the dream deepens, with others our steps cross.
Life is an unknown dance, in steps of azure embroidered,
From quadrille to minuet, in mystery it is clothed.
To the rhythm of the soul, I listen, let the light pulse,
And my steps in its wake, through night, to dance.
Knees just don't let grampa bend
feet won't let him run
Back that will not straighten up
some might say he's done
But wait a minute, not so fast
a wedding's round the corner
Pretty Anna's getting married
no invites for aging mourners
So into his cerebrum
Gramps smeared adrenaline
Well his feet took off a-flying
dancing like the wind
Spins, turns, leaps in the air
as if the aches were never there
Though inside he was grimacing
blisters and sores a-simmering
Yet Gramps kept up his great charade
on nimble knees and flying feet
For Anna's wedding serenade
Waves of pain ~ ne'er so sweet
The wheel spins, no crowd gathers ‘round
the arrow points neither up nor down
Nine months inside Mom
hope gestation was calm
My prayer that intact you survive
nourished by love to blossom and thrive
Soaring storm seethes in the shattered sky
Traces the tormenting terror in the calm air
The whispering wind of joy knows not why
It should face ruthless turbulence of despair.
Afflicting anger flares up in the spiteful mind
Smolders the sullen life to form extant ember
The anguished ashes fly away, failing to find
solace of hope the heart doesn’t remember.
Harrowing haze clutches the hidden horizon
Spreads the shroud of gloom in atmosphere
Cotton clouds drift away from the veiled sun
Hoping from darkness a bright day will appear.
Seething sorrow simmers in the marooned mind
Permeates pain in heart plunged deep in misery
Divine touch illumines the soul, agony rescinds
Sedate hope spins bliss in blessed life tapestry.
_______________
February 4, 2022
Contest : Hope
Sponsored by : Mohan Chutani
record spinning
as the song plays itself
out
In researching Basho, I found this quote related to Basho:
One of the masters of the haiku form, Basho, defined haiku as "Simply what is happening in this place at this moment."
Jan. 8, 2022
Pastel florals arise and flow,
in hues of tranquil misting seas.
Back light of a sapphire glow,
captivates the heart of glee.
Impassioned crest of rainbow song,
crescendos in the twilight beams.
Where angels walk abreast in throngs,
emanations of hope begin to stream.
Majesty of the cresting wave,
gifts sinewy strings of morning dew.
Mother Nature then engraves,
her claim of incandescent hues.
Gay sings the bird up in the bower;
in observation of the blossoming flowers.
8-3-2021
A Brian Strand Your Choice Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Life spins round the single point
all time taken in the observed
consumed against more than less
or opposite as consequence
is this the drain circled now
or pot of gold to cash against?
both are an end to the means
of damning efforts to redeem
consider outcomes that transpire
by the fruits that are acquired
while the surface is the same
the shell contains the darker stains
by the debris cast about
the drain demands little worth
only that life prepares
to be consumed in karmic sleight.
Spins as time crawls for a child
Spins as subtle as Mona Lisa smile
Spins as soft rain dancing in wind
Spins as a dreamer dreams on end
Please stop the world I'm falling off
grasp my hand and pull me back
Help me up, dust me off
point the way, get me on track
I trod the beaten path
I step in steps of those before
I hold my tongue and swallow my wrath
I bury my past and my pain ignore
Nasty is the taste of sin
shallow shines pride
Smile for the world is in need of friends
with faith life abides
Spins like a twirling top
Spins for it cannot stop
Spins this old world whirls
Spins pull back then forward hurl
Earth Still Spins, Tho' A Life Has Gone
Earth still spins, tho' a life has gone
with its course beneath Heaven's skies.
Sad the passing, but life moves on
births amassing, tho' one oft cries.
Souls that remain, dance as before
singing new tunes, as day is bright.
little to gain, through closed door
Heaven's design, its powerful might.
In our living, we laugh and weep
work with joy, earn our daily bread.
if true giving, peaceful sleep
as down we lay our weary head.
Years onward fly, we see the end
with great fear we may be afraid.
With faithful eyes, we see our friend
his father's word, all life was made.
Rejoice in blessings, once given
they are granted as true treasures.
Rewarded is he true livin'
for the bounty of life's pleasures.
Earth still spins, tho' a life has gone
with its course beneath Heaven's skies.
Sad the passing, but life moves on
births amassing, tho' one oft cries.
Robet J. Lindley, 6-21-1993
Rhyme, ( Life, With Its Blessings To Be Had )
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