A woman had dress to impress
But attracted the wrong guest
Lustful men at her door
Who demanded way more
But was sprayed for being a pest
Hanging almost angelically.
Praying for a breeze at the perfect pace.
Too soft, and it risks being exposed for being too fragile.
Too hard, and it risks being labelled too harsh and too cold.
The wind chime is singing so softly today.
It has mastered the art of veiling grief.
A bird on the blue bush tilting a beak is listening closely.
A brief reprieve from its nest of ever-hungry beaks.
Here comes that hurricane again, tangling the wood and strings.
Whisking sanity away. Strays gather in clusters of desperation,
Where children are told not to play, they rarely listen.
Then comes that prolonged lull.
Jagged thoughts gather themselves in spectacular futility.
The stillness is framed in a rugged mud,
An endless procession of pallbearers' deep gray.
Cherubs are trained to wade into hopelessness,
At the risk of getting graffitied. They always listen.
Then bumble home with wings sprayed in blood and a harsh lesson.
Yesterday everybody quietly slipped away.
Searching for a fresh melody of optimism.
Nobody fancies being swallowed up by the gray.
Nothing is salvaged from a wind chime after a hurricane
The day she decides she’s done,
Wasting her best years in fear,
Cowering in filth and shadows,
Her pet cockroaches near,
Who can’t face me in the light,
And scurry from the sight,
If not too tainted then,
By their black-fingered blight,
She may assume her place,
Beside me in spite,
Of a once-roach being sprayed,
And my Queen’s appetite,
Will never be spoiled again,
By these putrid insects,
Ever scavenging and stealing,
Like a cancer that infects,
Where she finally feels the kiss,
On her face so inspiring,
As sun enlightens her,
Without her scurrying, but smiling.
insecticides sprayed
crushed, smashed, thrashed, hard boot-heel-stamped ~
still they resurrect
We labeled it a flower.
Offered it soft words and a glass crown.
Praised and watered it.
Until the petals ran out
We labeled it a weed.
Sprayed it with poison.
Cursed it aloud, damned it into disgrace.
Until the petals ran out.
We labeled it freed.
Sprayed it with ignorance.
Purposely parched it.
Until the petals ran out.
Today I had my first golden shower,
As remarkable a rite of passage
As I’ve ever known.
While driving my tractor
Loading rock and gravel in the gravel pit
I busted the hydraulic hose to the front bucket
And all of a sudden
With a small popping explosion
I was under a spraying fountain,
A veritable geyser covering me
In thick golden oil
From head to toe.
At first I thought it would burn
But it was only warm.
It even tasted pretty good.
Earlier in the day
I’d wondered what it would be like
To break a hydraulic line on my new tractor.
I guess it wasn’t a matter of if,
Only a matter of when.
(8/16/26)
It grows and grows....
On private lawns and in the wild, it shows
It smiles at the sun before the day begins
And it winks when it catches a cool wind
Through the storm and rain, it grows
Its place and purpose on Earth, God knows
It drinks from Mother Nature's nourishing cup
It stays and stands strong in the sun as it gazes up
-- AIN'T LYIN' --
Often stepped on, pulled, and sprayed, but never dismayed, like a lion it comes roaring back
Back like it never left, just like that
In early spring, bees and butterflies compete to be in the same space
Just a buzzing and fluttering with energy apace
But man, oh man, he comes to cut, pull, and spray without delay
In his feigned egoistic genius, he doesn't realize it was meant to stay
-- AIN'T LYIN' --
Plentiful food and medicine for man to consume
But he sweeps it away like a hand with a broom....
From its deep roots to its green leafy tips
It heals, nourishes, and strengthens; only truth comes from these lips
Long live the dandelion,
I Ain't Lyin'
Alert global tempratures are up by 1 deg c.!
Holland must be by now letting in the sea.'
The cause is fossil fuel burning.' Some experts will agree, i observe the big wind
Tubines in use..And solar glare from those
Panels stretching well quite a stretch as it
Be.' I notice the bees are fewer now i wonder how it got like this with all the green new deals.? Now just you
tell me' i
Cannot get a hold of iodine at most pharmacys, its cause its being sprayed in
The sky by some ( experts if you ask me?)
The only thing thats dimmer, than a Chinese vegetable sum, is a group of these so called experts.?
Working for n g o's thats how good
as its got, we aint all dumb.' Ya know.)
Whispers speak to me in darkness I still see his light
Insight deep within my shadows I extend my sight
Hallow carving deep within my skull a howl escapes my maw
Yearning to destroy the visions I fly up above the clouds
Shaking from the pain of losing myself again
Echoes hide the truth that I am full of copper blood
Bones of clay they sprayed the world with Iron
Trapped in Spain a cell constructed of cedar
No saving me I am chained to Death itself
No praying for me I am choking from the smoke of this worlds corpse
Under the stars I am locked inside the shell of my past
Betrayed by my own heart
I am burning in flames while all of you laugh
Don't save me, I am Lost beneath the corpse of this world
No Saving me, Covered in the blood of all creation
Nailed to a tree spit on laughed at tormented and forsaken
I am forever Free you are lost in me
Oh, come now - since life is full of care
and the woodland path is wanting wear;
and the trees of spring must needs be seen
as winter’s grey is sprayed with green.
Van dyke said: ‘walk a mile with me’,
but let us go further and then we’ll see
how the foot is connected to the jaw and tongue
and the track can move the lip and lung.
We’ll tread pleasantries and leave them behind.
As amble turns ramble, we’ll clear out our mind
of piffle and fluff - chit-chat and chatter -
and at last get to speaking of the things that matter.
Gasping with effort, we’ll listen to the other;
clarify our reasons and, when home, discover -
though the debate and the way were difficult and rough -
we’ll agree we have not yet walked quite enough.
Garded and stepped all over mind
you self proclaimed position in power,
the meaning of tomorrow, and yesterday,
In hands so naive and selfish you stand,
In between holes in the ground and space
filled with pictures, and faces alive,stuck
in the past, im taken by your beauty.
My lonely shoes will walk one last time,
down those empty streets and spirits on fire,
flowers without desire, no power ever lasts.
Only fools believe time is forever,never
carved out painted and sprayed with piss,
smell this tragic moment let it soak in,
nothing or something, choose or loose,
old home never takes prisoners, only time
can spit its jealousy at you, just stand there,
be the victim on poster of timeless heroes,
lost and drunk on moonshine, stars with smile
look up, there is nothing but us, just us, only dust.
My rock group was getting stale
We no longer drew the fans
So I told my sad tale
To a public relations man
He gave me this advice:
"There's only one way to the light
Avoid the image of 'nice."
Let your inner demon take flight.
So we drove my car off a cliff in Malibu
Jumped out first, watched it dive
Made sure a camera man knew
Struck a pose with a high five.
I attended a posh party at night
Slapped my wife, who played the part
sniffed white powder, picked a fight
They rolled me out in a hospital cart.
I set fire to my guitar on stage
Firemen had been called, just in case
They sprayed me with a hose, I feigned rage
Yelled obscenities, got in their face.
But the fans would not return
Now I was without a car and a guitar
Plus dentist bills, no money to burn
Sold the mansion, no more a star.
I went back to my hometown
Helped an old lady walk where the street was wide
Cameras flashed, reporters took it down
that "Bad boy Jennings" had a good side!
Now the fans fill up my halls
It came as a total surprise
Now I've learned when the limelight calls
To be myself, no need for disguise.
50.
My 7th Leaf
Pulled thee near from earth
A short shoot – new birth
Among the humblest
One of the smallest
Behold!...a “kamia”!
Obtained by father
From bank of river
Whoever planted
Not known by my head
Transplanted and then
Tenth day – September
Twenty-third's over
About nine morning
Mist sprayed – thought raining
‘Bout nine thirty – wrote
Before – bank river
Now – “takas” – father
There he transplanted
On land adopted
Bless it to prosper
This one is special
Birthday memorial
So far the only
Written so early
While sun not yet gone.
-09/10/2011
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
A Christmas Eve party
A bitter husband dressed as Santa
Went on a shopping spree
A shooting spree for Satan
His family’s home ablaze in Christmas light
Flooded out when an eight year old girl
Opened the door to Saint Nick
But instead of his holiness
She met his “nic” named Insanity
Receiving quite a large gift
He shot her cold in the face
Then sprayed the fleeing guests
With his fertile fluid of death
And the house went down into the flames
Satan’s slaughter was done
And inferno had touched the earth
On the other side of the manger
Where no real kings ever come
Christmas is always a special time
Special even in the Dead Land
Everyone wants to get something
No one wants to be left out in the cold
Not even in Hell
No one wants to be left out
Not in the cold with the beasts
Alone with Satan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, small gray squirrel with paws swift and horrific,
your crimes against Christmas stir outrage mythic.
Every December, the same dang fight~
you gnaw through our twinkling strands of light.
We’ve duct-taped. We’ve sprayed. We’ve begged you to cease;
yet, you chomp with a rodent’s relentless mouthpiece.
Your tiny teeth, sharper than Scrooge’s spite,
leave our lawn a dark, half-lit blight.
Next year, we’ll rig traps large and unbenign
or string the lights with razor wire design.
But deep down we know—you’ll win this war,
one chewed-up bulb at a time, you anarchic piece of forest lore.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.