Tethers float & tickle like feathers
I'm aloft unaware of outside weathers
Evening enhanced by colloquial pleasures
Malleable & manipulated
Esoterica like yours specifically stipulated
"Tie me to your tongue" I sing
Oh I utter the strangest things!
Yet I must admit I'm fully focussed
Overjoyed at this conversational hocus pocus
Unusually laid back & vocally gushing
Rampant points of interest gain further pushing
Tantalise & give me traction
Obligated now to end-goal satisfaction
Nerve endings sever in hyperspace
"Great subject matter expert kept perfect pace!"
Unbiased reviews are fully flowing
Eloquence like yours has me all glowing
The power depends on the people’s will
They were taught to believe this at high school
But as practice has shown, powers like to kill
And the people are forced to obey under rule
So the contract between the people and power
Looks a bit stretched cause it was preset
Do I need a law how to water my flower?
My goodwill’s stipulated without my consent?
And now you self appointed judges get loud
Condemning me for the war in your garden
But you've got the wrong address, dear crowd
Type the proper number of your chosen warden
Am I not responsible for lunar eclipses yet?
Mustn’t I write an explanatory note
On three A 4 sheets of paper, so that
Could be cheerfully taken as my absent vote.
Tasks, by their very nature
are often painful to perform.
Polysyllabic pedantry exacerbates undertakings unnecessarily.
Strict contest-runners rate your
adherence to the stipulated norm.
Would Robert Frost perform feats
of wordplay? Or leave forsaken
such boring chores? I airily
dare opine this, for Keats,
is the road not taken.
Like rednecks have their gun,
and German shepherds have muzzles,
one posits, all too warily,
that poets need their fun:
like doing harmless crossword puzzles.
For the sleigh team there applied ten:
Nine deer and a man born of men;
Though trembling with fear,
Santa’s choice was clear:
Rudolf instead of Dolf Lundgren.
Ol' Frosty was struggling to count-
He couldn’t get his numbers to mount.
He dropped his mid-weight
To look like an eight
And so now can give good account.
Santa stipulated stocked shelves
And so yelled and screamed at his elves;
Thrown in a tizzy,
His elves got busy,
At once unionizing themselves!
Your sultry sensual look I still embrace
As I think of those mesmerizing violet eyes,
My heart then quickens and starts to race,
If only you knew what you still do to me.
Whose fault was it that sad sad night,
When you spoke those unjust words,
Was it meant for me to run away in fright,
If you only knew, how much I still love you.
Maybe it was me, or perhaps it was you began
An argument that was bitter, that left me mad,
But know that when you ran away, I also ran,
If you only knew that I could never forget you.
You dazzled me, with your graceful, swan like neck,
Frolicked with your cleavage, your creamy breasts,
Rising and falling, knowing I desired, needed you,
If only you knew that you were the soul of my heart.
I ran after you to catch you, but I was too late,
The rain was pouring you tripped, hit your head,
I picked up your lifeless body, it was your fate,
If only you knew your death was the end of me.
Written for Silent One's contest
However Not Entered as the stipulated number of poems was met.
Characters in action
Talents in multiplication
Shapes and sizes of many version
Skills on display with tension
Over the top ropes one would gape
Under the ropes one can escape
Apron of thick mattress
Arena of countless matches
Highlighted are dressed to kill
Fronting the crowd that fill
Seats of spectators that cheer
Feats of competitors, not jeer
Matches roll with blunder
Rumbling and grappling like thunder
Crutches and splints spread over
Bodies of the bruised fall over
Grueling matches live on
Under any pressure show must go on
It's not "business as usual" that linger
Players of theatrics in danger
Venues are slated by dates
Participants stipulated as mates
Previews of expected bouts
Reviews that excite and shouts
Year after year is the Rumble
Inside the ring that crumble
Event that sounds so noble
Fame, not fortune that bubble
A prelude to Wrestlemania
An interlude of regalia
A shot coveted in spotlight
A spot asserted with delight
Let's get ready to rumble!...
Sour ground ...
burial lots, where the worms defile
Tear moistened dirt
hardened by fretting hearts,
fearful of the pulse pendulum clock
Time moves mournfully on a crooked drop,
six-feet motion of tainted tick-tock
The skeleton key
can’t open casket thoughts
bound by
an unrepentant lock
Half-life decay of terminal haste
has an unsweetened
paper taste —
Rectangular sawdust placed in toxic space,
as gravedigger eyes spark
an undertaker gaze
A mushroom cloudy view into
the catacomb maze
Everyone must darkly go
on this nether journey;
tho’ some will choose to make
an urn-stipulated,
vain crematorium flee
Letting their ashes of demise
boast a false victory
4-24-21
Like a reclusive boat, I remained there,
discerning the prevailing winds of change,
which many a time, made me embrace fear,
by surpassing the stipulated range.
When winds of change blurred the light house's light,
I blanked out and forgot my wonted route.
Struggled, wiggled and jiggled without sight
amid the sea, and there a hope sprouted.
Even when vigorously slapped on face,
and ruthlessly elevated mild tides,
it's a toilsome task to shudder ,sea base
and that's why I endorse her as a guide.
She persuaded that it's not writ large force
that help us win; it's just our inner source
Nov-17-2020
It was once upon a time, love
That was never experienced
It was once upon a time, trust
That was never fulfilled
It was once upon a time, fantasy
That never came into being
Snooze, the alarm clock
That love was never enough
To sustain the future
That love was never love
It was an escape from reality
Not so worth it
It was once upon a time, agreement
That was never stipulated clearly
It was once upon a time, lust
Due to drought seasons
It was once upon a time, life
That was never meant to be lived
Wake up, the alarm clock is ringing
Though justification may be in faith,
And hope sustain us through all trouble,
Greater still than either is agape,
The love that comes from God,
The concern for our fellow creatures
Which acknowledges our oneness.
We call it love or charity; in fact
It transcends both those words.
It is at base an unjudgmental affirmation
Of our shared human nature; unlike
Ordinary love, agape flows untrammeled,
No strings attached, no conditions stipulated,
A free-bestowed outpouring of compassion
Unqualified, and seeking no reciprocation.
When we open ourselves to God’s love
And freely yield us up to be its instrument,
Then love’s paradox is plainly seen:
The more we give, the more it lives in us.
October 14, 2019
Written for Regina Riddle's "1st Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Contest"
The night you left with our love's wilted flower
the gloomy sky was falling down in gentle shower.
In the soft streetlight I saw your sodden silhouette
slowly disappear in the wet haze, I couldn’t forget.
The scene sank deep in the maze of my memory,
for years weaved the tapestry of our untold story,
I thought someday I’d spread it on my poem new,
the only one I’d dedicate to our times and to you.
Memory has a strange habit of making dream,
in deep sleep they appear, unreal they don’t seem.
One night my eyes on edge of sleep saw you return
the way you departed, made my mute heart churn.
I opened the door, went out to let you in again.
The night was dark, drenched by the pouring rain.
I stood alone hit by the splash of cold water spray,
eyes sleepless, I saw sleepwalking dream melt away.
(In order to meet the rhyming scheme the poem exceeds
by one line over the stipulated 15 lines which I could not
help for the sake of the form)
Posted : July 16, 2018
Contest : Sleepless Old Or New
Sponsor : Carolyn Devonshire
No free lunch nor free supper
Offered in this expensive life;
When one pays for his breakfast,
The high price cuts him like a knife.
Every good meal has a value,
Coming from the fruits of labor;
Anyone who is lazy or slothful
Should never eat food nor savor.
It's impossible for a man
To possess something for nothing;
Money is the means of payment
For a gold or a diamond ring.
Whatever services are provided,
They must be paid for by someone;
Whatever foods are stipulated,
There should never be eat-and-run.
Every choice someone makes
Has alternatives that matter;
Opportunity comes and goes,
There's no free lunch nor free supper.
Who I am?
I am a human
Created and crafted by the amalgamation of
My father and mother
I was in the womb of my Mother with pain and joy
For a stipulated time
And I landed in this earth with the sound of
“Chiyaha”
I am in the human ocean to struggle for my survival
By rolling my emotions in between ignorance, hate, ego, and greed
To gain the most precious knowledge and things from human ocean
I am a lost soul in this world
Rolling in the ocean to away from ignorance, hate, ego, and greed
To know myself who I am
Even though not able to judge who I am
Not you…..just me
******
Happiness always have to be in pursuit;
To country give an honest and loyal hoot;
God relish,
And embellish;
Joy, truth and justice on your horn toot.
In America, you can find a community,
That does have a built in immunity;
Safe, sane, secure,
We know for sure;
Are all together and contain unity.
Where ever we were, have been or went,
People compliment and are independent;
Saved our soul;
Now are whole,
And God this great country to us He sent.
Many things to us God Himself did declare;
Saved us from sin and our lives did spare;
Equal were treated;
Won't be defeated;
Should love everyone and for them care.
We must never, ever be manipulated;
Even if in a law it once was stipulated;
Into hands do not play,
Or believe lies they say;
God and country are always celebrated.
If fire too hot stay away from the heat;
With kindness and feeling others greet;
Practical advice;
Please do be nice;
Head against wall stop and do not beat.
James Horn
Horn Fouth of July Poems
I think about my poems all of the time,
and here are my latest 4th of July ones:
Happiness always have to be in pursuit;
To country give an honest and loyal hoot;
God relish,
And embellish;
Joy, truth and justice on your horn toot.
In America, you can find a community,
That does have a built in immunity;
Safe, sane, secure,
We know for sure;
Are all together and contain unity.
Where ever we were, have been or went,
People compliment and are independent;
Saved our soul;
Now are whole,
And God this great country to us He sent.
Many things to us God Himself did declare;
Saved us from sin and our lives did spare;
Equal were treated;
Won't be defeated;
Should love everyone and for them care.
We must never, ever be manipulated;
Even if in a law it once was stipulated;
Into hands do not play,
Or believe lies they say;
God and country are always celebrated.
If fire too hot stay away from the heat;
With kindness and feeling others greet;
Practical advice;
Please do be nice;
Head against wall stop and do not beat.
James Horn
Sub Categories
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