pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades
dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons
poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera
of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax
around serene scenery, orbs, and idealism
Is unction vital to adorn naked words with plumose wings?
whose views of contentment, vim, and happiness?
Inversely hamstringing people with arrows?
sighs of sorrow sound sowed soil
mothers, wailing and yelling out to unborn spirits
as our hearts crave affection
poetry provides its verisimilitude vacuum
do susurrus coruscating suborn scarlet spills?
deep within a stymie pirouette
the tortured sinews of a troubled mind are twisting
my life bill was still due till my final breath
I bequeath you my spirit as expressed in sonnets
I bequeath you my marrow, wrapped in iambic style
I bequeath you my mind, crafted with mispronunciation
sharing with those who owe me a xanthous soul
Categories:
suborn, philosophy, poetry,
Form: Suzette Prime
Friends close say, “You’re addicted!”
Stanford, “Meter, rhyme afflicted!
So not with it! Wasting time!”
My poetry! Is it a crime?
I'm guilty! Yes! What's lost to them?
I'm stupid too if sharing's whim!
Is time best spent, mere life in motion,
Destination only ocean,
Where one swims (just health the goal)?
Does staying strong then make us whole?
A soul that sparkles I pursue
And Grace, in faith, I trust my due.
Might staying fit too steal from life
That won't look toward death's future wife,
No thought of those he leaves behind
Who might find gain perchance in mind,
A poem shared, the afterlife he dared
To dream no rout! My poem's trout
That might feed souls of yet unborn,
The living's love I'd not suborn
By flattery, I'm what you see.
Let me embrace the fate I own!
Bribe God? I'd not atone
For failures that I've made in fact,
Though some might think that I lack tact.
May good I do help some find Grace,
Till blessed by Love all see God's face!
Long Tooth
April 9th of 2019
Categories:
suborn, journey, life,
Form: Rhyme
Let the poet in me tell the world what I see,
Won't you enter my dream, join the flow of life's stream,
Make this world be a hummingbird's garden.
Muse's beak probe your heart, so you too play a part,
Bless us, share what you will, and then linger until
Your life's blood joins the ink in quill's feather.
May my verse also flow'r, honor poets each hour,
As the blossoms of rhyme serve to pollinate time
And the paths (we traverse) sing our pardon!
May the seasons too bless all that poets confess,
And the melodies born, God's will serve, not suborn,
Trusting Justice, His Love, both together.
Brian Johnston
7th of July 2018
Categories:
suborn, faith, poetry, writing,
Form: Rhyme
Don’t get my soul until I'm born,
Umbilical is cut you see,
Life's costs begin (though child IS free!)
My sin now starts as I suborn
My mother's breast and warmth, I cry!
This love's reward? I dose and smile,
And gravitate to lullaby!
My parent’s dream - it's all worthwhile.
Birthday's a first; I'm truly me,
And one day closer to my death,
I learn to share what needs there be,
(While life slow-poisons all with breath.)
No baby's cute to pleasure you,
It lives to serve itself alone
You may get pleasured this is true,
God's gift - child's needs somehow atone!
In serving others, love gets found,
Our life's the price to earn this truth,
Some take, unlearned, this to the ground
And never reconcile their ruth.
Life's "Why's" too big, no man can know,
Just trust God's there, our cry's untoward,
Find joy when those around you grow,
A good death is life's best reward.
Long Tooth
June 9, 2018
Categories:
suborn, death, journey, life, love,
Form: Rhyme
Mystery this frail existence—
leaning into heedless wind.
Omen of pale dawn’s insistence—
all are fallen; all have sinned.
Distant birth’s incipient morn—
divergent lives their myriad courses.
Faux angelic forms suborn—
risen Sheol’s rotting corpses.
Uncertainty’s advancing chill—
day’s end finds us near surrender.
This road of life seems all uphill—
existence deems us mere pretender.
Dismiss this moribund charade—
see wellsprings rise and thwart disdain.
Wild their fountains now cascade—
mingle then your tears with rain.
In honor of newlyweds Sarai Romano and Todd Virden
Categories:
suborn, cheer up,
Form: Quatrain
Treatise of love suborn
Of feelings, desires shorn
With parochial aspirations born
On ritual wings bourne
Romance brokered forlorn
On christening morn, personal
license torn
Deeded by title; underwritten
with scorn
Parceled with dowry; with
annuities adorn
Liabilities, a fitted mantle
charitably worn
Categories:
suborn, love
Form: Rhyme
How strange now, this convo, contradiction
A man who eats with no silverware, only fingers
Asking why I don't love, with future addiction
He laughs with whole body and asks me why
From a different culture he questions
Why now my soul does not adhere, to another, to fly
In all but political correctness he is inferior
To order about, to demean to suborn
Yet his question is above all others, simple, superior
Dat your one man, your wife, in future, your life?
No, I answer, why do you ask?
Cos dat all you need man, a girl, a wife!
I had one, I say, I let her go
Man, dat silly, dat foolish, he says
I got me one, I haf her still, at night I go
I am the one he asks for money, whose fate I control
In me is his future, immediate or eternal
Yet in his hands is my heart, in grasp, in hold
He shakes his head and prepares to depart
At my whim, his future, his chart
And yet he makes me pause, makes me tear my heart
Man why you no with her, why is you apart?
Categories:
suborn, introspection, lost love, people,
Form: Rhyme