The Pro: "Timmies grow under the heather yes, we hear that too, the shale rocks earthen faults and spouts meters and rhythmic soornteens like ask the cold fall moon."
Samara: "Oldest wept upon bridge, the lovers crest cradles the lover's bridge, two brigades that hold together the trust of men and women at arms, like wings sent Demeter into the fog
Samael: "Came, went, it's always the same, the old lion's mane, the goat's beard is the fashionable game."
(Anonymized character) "Stellar! Like the fickle few! We shouldn't press too much wine to winny while we mew!"
Helel: "Tomorrow never dies, the like-minded sun repressed, never dies in the night twin flames of tomorrow's best."
Aurora: "Timidity be slow upon the river pale the horse-drawn carriage has foregone the bitter yales."
Uraeal: "Goosed up for the gander? Myne thyne fyne lynes are wolly and not prancer!"
Gladius: "Gooseflesh la'amore? Sinnder down the doors and let from that lovingly pour!"
---End of act I---
sometimes it weighs me down
as if existence wishes me spent
useless and no longer essential
you walk through the door
and i have every reason
why my existence is animated
those dark eyes that hold another universe
who invite in every constellation i am
every time i think of you
i am atlas shrugged
in your given hand, the strength
a magnetism strengthening my iron core
a calm hysteria enveloped in a devoted plasma
where doves flock with eagles
the skies above Eden alive again
an existence beyond ever denying
love has humbled me
the knight upon one knee
the deepest of respect, loyalty
where my lips never consume enough
of the anatomy you are
where water spouts appear
fated to perish in the calm seas
of those dark eyes you wear
the other universe where i found
the heaven you are
Oregon 9/21/26
I wish to thank fellow poet Nine Dragons whose poem My Faerie Queen, Pt1 inspired the lines on the kneeling knight.
Perspire, poor perspicacious?
Tenacious at the quick?
Sanguine, solemn, sagacious?
Lost lighter wheel, fine flick?
Yes, and when the autumn rain:
Turns the place to mud:
Twister. Terrible terrain.
Coat shed. Drawn in blood.
Chairs black walnut, open backs.
In a circle rest.
Fine feather-cut, trains on tracks.
Ash and smoke, pour west.
O canopy of crimson!
Thy ladies fair sparks blow!
Diadem diamond, honey dun!
Hummingbird, fly low!
Marble top, mahogany.
Tables outward curve.
Tracing white as destiny.
Vilified the verve.
Iron spouts conical?
Fire bellows breathing in.
Candelabra, port and pall.
Triangles of tin.
Project beyond thy sockets!
Blue star-shaped ornaments!
Dark night shattered, fired rockets!
Soldiers out of tents!
Concentric, calm, chiral.
Two-sided, layered thick.
Videos gone viral.
Stump oak and hickory stick.
The
other eighteenth
centurion was rewired to beat whip-
ping cream by trans-
ferring it to one of free flood plain car-
rier amigo acid barriers and then em-
BARK-
ing on his var-
ied
own
creep dis-
cussing raw plans in a goop text where he adds
a spam
and melon
ball twist to a clutch-
ing figurine piece depicting
an angle between those sidewind-
ers required for
hooking spouts
with ambiguous traces of lawful fake
muse bots
spread-
ing
gas unrest using automated pest practices
that
put real intel-
ligence to sleep behind the Wheel of Miss
Fortune's even
grey-
er and darker than usual
Legion of Heavy Petting Metal Maniacs.
Plop! The fly falls home
just north of the hole. Brownie
spouts, "Breakfast is served!"
(a weedy problem)
They know, they just know where to grow, how to dupe you, and how to camouflage themselves among the perfectly respectable plants.
~ Dianne Benson
Sprouts without doubts
Pretending to know the abouts,
Ready to grow into louts
Of the most nefarious sort~
Useless as fuzz on the spouts,
Tedious noise-maker flouts,
Sending flowers into the pouts.
a Rhyming Alliterisan poem
A slick, soaking spring rain stops
picnic plans and closes shops
in the valley and village
as river’s runoff spillage
inundates us inside-out,
overflowing all our spouts~
until sun breaks wide the sky.
****
The Rhyming Alliterisen consists of 7 lines, with 7 syllables each, and has one alliteration in every line. The rhyme scheme as follows: aabbccd.
Heaven.
From its spout.
It’s so luxurious everywhere,
But I’m still somehow a puddle all over.
The alarms have been going off for hours.
This avenue used to be part of me.
It is now a street for others.
Fruition.
Other ideas don’t make sense here.
The ground is no longer earth.
And love is trickling through and speaks gravely.
Turn on the windshield wipers.
When you turn on the headlights.
Like a luxury sedan that I live in.
Traveling all over when there’s no reason to.
Heaven is random.
Squealing sounds of a violin.
Heaven grows exponentially.
So there is room.
Me and all my friends too.
Expansive feelings.
Spouts we don’t know of.
This avenue of alarms.
I have other ideas too.
Heaven has its own ideas.
Might someday turn us into raindrops.
Like my friend who got in too.
she tells the story I also heard on the news
most of the facts she spouts are alternative facts
Her version is a better story
embellishment that adds flavor
but also lies
she regurgitates her parent’s philosophy
Lives their religious beliefs
Spouts their politics
Lives with their furniture
She has never had to buy a couch or a chair
Never had to wonder what her own ideas might be
At seventy-six she is grateful
She never had to develop an opinion of her own
When rage grips over me
Blood spouts to my head
Veins throb and pulsate with anger
My body trembles with fury
I am a stranger to myself
The demons take over me
My taipan tongue spits venom
That very few can tolerate
I’m thankful for the whispering winds and the gentle rain
And the absent sun on dark days, knowing it will be out again
The moonlit skies at night with twinkling stars shining bright
The change of the seasons and all its festive and seasonal sights
The birds who visit and sing their sweet morning melodies
Goldfinches, blue-jays, cardinals and feisty chickadees
Their daily return to feed and build nests nearby in the trees
And watching their entertaining antics as they frolic and tease
Spring blooms that I anticipate and wait for to reappear
In bright colors and scents that bring delight and cheer
The chipmunks and squirrels in my yard scurrying about
with their sputtering, chirping, and barking spouts
The fresh winter snow that cleanses and brightens the ground
and the magical moments of watching the snowflakes come down
When the air warms and crocuses and daffodils emerge through the snow
And the return of Spring when nature rejoices and puts on a beautiful show
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
on my tippy toes
the boat tips
I dive into the sun
happiness spouts
my smile shimmers
u t c
n h u
d e r
e r
r e
n
t
This senator from Ohio, named Vance is taking a very big chance by supporting a crook who spouts gobbledygook. Is this a strange bromance, perchance?
Stay on your side of the brook, Tiger
Or else there will be a great snipper
To end you running your mouth
So much wild noise from you spouts
See you tonight at one, rough rider
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