My typewriter
was not a good typewriter,
its keys were weighty,
you had to use brain muscle to work it,
nobody wanted it.
My son unpacked a home computer.
I stood by and watched
as all the electronics were laid out on the floor
and surgically knitted together.
I knew then
that I would be consistently out of touch,
and possibly would remain
stuck in an obsolete year
trying to catch up
from the rear of the field.
I wrote my first poem
on that clickity-clack manual machine,
then a dozen more,
all of them were heavy handed,
yet that hefty labor
made me think
I was crafting something worthwhile.
Later, I was enslaved to a computer keyboard,
chained as I was to its subsonic urgings
I could tell
the world was speeding away
faster than I could write.
When my kind of poet dies,
he is immediately ed,
for all his contemporary poems
turn into digital wormholes
that suck him into an unknown grave.
The young look to dead poets for wisdom -
truth is,
that those ham-fisted plodders
have long ago
turned into chunky typewriters
that nobody wants.
Categories:
subsonic, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The silent song of the sighing breeze
The silent song of the sighing breeze
murmured but not listened !
Either subsonic or supersonic
but to be felt by heart
not to meet a tragic end.
I sent my errand to you
through blowing breeze to
sigh and whisper in your ears,
cherishing expectation to touch your emotion.
Wandering on wonderful sea beach,
ruminating old memories being nostalgic.
Sending my unsaid message in symphony of silent song
through gentle breeze only to sigh.
Zephyr pulling emotive urge unstoppable.
Reminiscences rolling spreading forgotten fragrance.
May my dormant desires propagate through air to reach you.
Ruthless truth was ‘ I couldn’t accept You ‘
That lamentation is chasing me throughput life.
I am weeping with the silent song of the sighing breeze
imbibing my lost love.
Categories:
subsonic, emotions, wind,
Form: Free verse
Words get lodged in teeth.
A dental hygienist
has actually extracted a few.
Like bats words hang
from the roof of my mouth,
their subsonic squeaks
jiggle its epiglottis
like a witch doctor’s rattle.
The optometrist wears her glasses
over the bridge of her nose
like intimate lingerie,
she moves in seductively
fishes into my eyes;
her searching is a shadow-dance
on the back of an exposed skull.
Once her bright penlight
stumbled over a word
that should never have been out
on its own.
Immediately, a startled brain
put on thick rubber goggles,
I looked back at her like a deep sea fish,
caught unawares by a naked mermaid.
Categories:
subsonic, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Hovering hemispheres habitual harmonics, symmetrical solitudes in their Sonics,
Mastering melodies with mnemonics, amidst approbation of acoustical avionics…
Stellar symphonies sailing Celestial Seas, applauding Angels aerially appease,
Birds belting songs on tranquil trees, botanical gardens blooming in the breeze;
Superstrings romantically resonate, virtuous vibrations valiant as they create,
Overtures upon oblivions do ornate, spheres of distortions align and allocate…
Orchestral opus overruns the trance, magical melodic maneuvers enhance,
Treble and bass clefs prepare to dance, elocution of their eternal expanse;
The Earth hums within rotation, subsonic frequencies of ethereal elation,
The masses are minstrels of celebration, titillating tunes of temptation…
Solitude's surrender thru strident skies, music awakens deep dormant eyes,
The wings of a butterfly take us to new highs, ambient assonance to arise.
April.23.2020
Grace and Solitude
Sponsored by~John Hamilton
Placed 3'rd...Thank You
Categories:
subsonic, celebration, music, solitude,
Form: Rhyme
When you visit my site, sad to say, sound's subsonic
My ears can't hear music an elephant hears,
A text message is louder (I do read all comments),
At times, I confess (though) they bring me to tears!
If my tears are from laughter or joy (when you honor
Me here with your presence) I count it a win,
For it's not just agreement, in fact, that I'm after.
I still dare to dream all that I share ghosts my sin!
Not just sin I've committed, but sin in my genome,
Hardwired by free will that no man has escaped!
Should the pitch of your visits be something I value?
Ascribed too to sin? Should such manners be aped?
I don't write for your pleasure, still pleased when that happens.
In faith, I am you and think you are me too!
But our acts trip us up on the path to tomorrow,
All virtue's skin deep that we wear (frail tattoo)!
It's in pain that I grok you (for you're my reflection)
Though friendship has content like words of a song,
It's a choice that we make (and the heart of what matters!)
If Grace can't intoxicate, something is wrong!
Long Tooth
November 6th in 2019
Categories:
subsonic, journey, life,
Form: Rhyme
LOVE IN QUIETUDE
He feels love and she loves to feel.
Deal on love or love to deal.
He didn’t talk and she didn’t voice.
Both were perfect on their choice.
Chaplin’s movie in Hollywood
showing mutual gratitude.
Both sank in reverie of solitude.
Song of love sung in interlude.
Symphony is inaudible.
Yet passion is permissible.
Love whispered in couple’s mind
Emotive urges were entwined.
Ardor echoed to rebound
turning amour without sound.
Though seemed unbelievable
Yet uttered no syllable.
Seed of love was sowed.
Amorous flow glowed.
Impulses in subsonic state
murmuring in heart and pulsate.
No need to be loud nor to listen
But to be proud and to glisten
In tranquility of love
Togetherness to observe.
09/31/19
'Silence' contest by Silent one
Categories:
subsonic, appreciation, love, silence,
Form: Couplet
subsonic silence
at hospital waiting room ~
life in suspension
posted on April 18, 2019
Categories:
subsonic, anxiety, fear, health, silence,
Form: Senryu
Digital beauty encoded in space
Densely packaged with binary relays
A hybrid of English et en Français
Dreaming out loungey soft beats and delays
Super 45’s and magnetic tape
Transfers of energy through vintage keys
Trading the lead to entrance and escape
Analog phases alighting the breeze
Delicate spires of open finesse
Hushed drones that mingle in the subsonic
Limitless visions in limited press
Mixing it down into Duophonic
Sensual ribbons of Marxist ideals
Consciously rolling Motorik appeal
Categories:
subsonic, computer, girl, love, science
Form: Sonnet
The basics to live
was with the peeling off,
the tangerines. The innovative flight
takes you to surrealism?
of a countdown, which begins
to send a subsonic device
to small jupiters.
You receive the call and
jump into black sea?
eliminating the foes, breaking the bridge.
This moment after sometime splits,
ejects the god particle.
You slip out of backyard
to embrace the apparition.
The ending was never a happy thing.
Satish Verma
Categories:
subsonic, art,
Form: ABC
This has been a weapon of war so tried and true.
It is the “Stratofortress” Boeing B-52.
The bomber has been flying longer than most of us have been alive.
It has been employed by the US Air Force since 1955.
With a payload of up to 70,000 pounds,
the plane carries a powerful punch that abounds.
Cruise missiles can be launched from its wings.
This Boeing aircraft can do amazing things.
The BUFF performs its duties rather economically.
This accounts for the plane’s amazing longevity.
This subsonic strategic bomber can fly a long way.
That’s one of many reasons why it is still used today.
(BUFF stands for “Big Ugly Fat CENSORED”)
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable
information I obtained to write this poem.
Categories:
subsonic, dedication, war
Form: Rhyme
She says: “I heard about this service offered by an Australian mobile-phone
company – you can request that they block certain numbers after 3.00am…”
He says: “Why?”
And she replies: “’Cos that’s the time when people call those numbers and
make fools of themselves…”
She can hear the penny drop, the subsonic ‘click’ of understanding, before he
asks:
“What’s the time over there…?”
She says: “3.00 am.”
Categories:
subsonic, lost love, love, time,
Form: Free verse
My Daddy scuttles across the ocean floor,
Let tons of seawaters flow past him,
Over him,
As he makes subsonic noises
Protesting my sins.
The waters listen,
As do fish and sharks
And other predators of the sea,
The sea horse dances its traditional dance.
Seaweed’s weave and sway,
As if in chorus.
The villainous dragon from Monsters Inc.,
Changes color and does his disappearing,
Shrek awaits luncheon in his swamp,
Daddy is late, he has ‘diver’s’ cramp.
I patiently explain to him
The phraseology of Rap,
The mechanics of whoring
Just outside the Kremlin,
But with magnifying glass,
He still looks for gray in Lenin’s beard.
A thousand Pol Pots were David Copperfield,
No less, spinning agrarian dreams for Daddies like
him,
And other Daddies like Uncle Ho,
Paddy growing from the barrel of a gun.
Gorbachov had the world on his head,
But ultimately, the Drunk pointed cannon at the Duma,
And won.
‘Daddy, understand the dialectics
Of the spinning wheel in Atlantic City,
Otherwise as Donald Trump would say,
You’re fired!’
Categories:
subsonic, funny, life, people,
Form: Blank verse