The doors to yesterday are shut tight and locked.
Only windows allow quick glimpses... you, face red and angry, eyes shut tight, refusing to accept reality away from your warm, slushy world of heart beats and distant voices.
Alas, we are all thrust out into bright lights, cold hands, and loud noises. Our lifeline cut in two, leaving us without a tether.
The air presses in all around, the first heavy burden we bear. Simply lifting our heads is too much to ask. How quickly we adapt. We learn to accept the indignities of a flesh body.
I watch you grow again and again. Each birthday is a celebration…and a time of mourning. Missing the child you were, whom I'll never see again, carry again, hold again. Each year you change into someone else and I come to love you everyday, with every smile, every word and moment.
I may miss the baby I see through that window to yesterday, but I also look forward to falling in love with who you are and will be each and every day.
The doors are locked to the past... but we have the keys to the future, in the eyes of our children.
Raised Iron works
thrust out of the blacktop.
Women-hole covers
appear; the tip of the spear
above new drilled silos.
Rubber slugs concrete.
Debora steers her way
through a slalom of
gender specific movements.
The road bucks under
her taught belly,
while fingers push
a wheel through
a video game maze.
Long laboring feminists
under hard hats
are digging her,
so she just smiles -
tries to relax.
How many “good” deeds were done in the earth. Believe me,
it wasn’t all bad. No one counted on Noah’s preach being right.
ITs RAINING
Alive and well whilst hell’s on fire.
Whistles and bells, I know you hear!
Your sole is hot, the coals conspire.
That breath could be your last to fear.
“I did a deed that’s good! See that?”
Your chest thrust out…they’re adding up.
What does God see, previewing stat?
The question is, “What’s your back up?”
Are you a god? Beat your record?
Mere man, what can you do - that good?
Do you think you deserve award?
Do you rely on stone and wood?
We are cursed men who miss the mark.
Caught in deluge, except the ark.
5/10/2023
Don't ever be caught off securing!
The world is in a state of writhing.
Human skin is used to induce maps usage.
And then hang it on the wall alike a rootage.
Who are those poems on my lips, please?
And the lexicon of people who love freeze?
The strands beg, "Whom will I stretch them to?"
Who do you pass to in my night to feel subdue?
Dispenser fragrance distilled in my blood
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!
Tell me if you're a mountain hallucination.
So, who truly am I? And my appeal literation.
Written: March 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
A Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Time not only Yesterday changes
But Tomorrow rearranges,
The innocence of unborn babies tainting,
Their celebratory virgin spirit tilting:
A new-born able to screen from passers-by Its nudity
Faster than Adam did after his stupidity.
Time keeps obliging us with coarsened silk
While during us towards a Canaan of sour milk
We’d better we had a dietician justify
And the safety of Its consumption certify…
In the past it was
That Angels would be on Earth for a cause
partly to interact with Mortal Man
And whenever possible drink from his can
But chiefly God’s telegram hand him
Between the very clear and the a-bit-dim,
Fundamentally happy tidings
Or to, Embittered Hagar some bidding…
Then, God’s Seventh Heaven was a bit taller
Than the highest mountains with peaks duller,
Wherefore goose pimples from the heavens broke out,
When the already longish Babel still aimed to thrust out
The prelude to God’s multiplication of tongues
And unleashing of the confusion emanating from lungs.
With bated breath I’m on an exciting ride,
my head is out of the car’s open window.
As white sedan passes the greenery on roadside,
leave behind the rolling plateau in morning glow.
My head is out of the car’s open window,
I thrust out my neck adorning my favorite red tie,
leave behind the rolling plateau in morning glow,
to meet my girlfriend after a while, I seemed to fly.
I thrust out my neck adorning my favorite red tie,
look forward to seeing the journey ends real fast.
To meet my girlfriend after a while, I seemed to fly,
recalling, see you soon, I promised when met her last.
Look forward to seeing the journey ends real fast,
as white sedan passes the greenery on roadside.
Recalling, see you soon, I promised when met her last,
with bated breath I’m on an exciting ride.
May 25, 2020
Photo theme chosen : #2
Contest : Pantoum Rhyme And Personification
Sponsor : Eve Roper
Previous Days
Written: by Miracle Man
1-8-2020
My past is a chronicle of the life I’ve spent,
and the path I once walked can’t be rearranged.
But repeat, through God, I can circumvent,
by accepting Jesus, future days, were changed
These past doings don’t affect life today,
on the straight and narrow now I’m keeping.
Once I accepted Jesus and began to pray,
I’ll not see gnashing of teeth and weeping.*
* Luke 13:28 (KJV)
28 There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when ye shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets, in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves thrust out.
I feel a sense of haste thrust out towards the coast,
All motions disturbed and turned to one way,
The sea has made the work of man its host,
Life once hidden in trenches to see light of day,
When the lonely lion lies longing for its own,
Licking a hole inflicted long ago,
Issue she had never seen fully grown,
Trying to grasp who should now be her foe,
If ears could hear the muted screeches of the green,
Would hearts be swayed enough for hands to stop?
Must pain through eyes always be seen?
Or would rain wash away branches bloody and chopped?
When sleeping heads on cussions have finally awoken,
Let the barren land once roamed be our token.
On the Verge
Every hand is pocket bound,
eyes lifted from the TV’s hallowed glow.
Breath is released in a low sigh;
worming, squirming, squat.
Thrust out of bounds in tandem,
nothing is done alone.
You’re seen, you’re sought, you’re it,
maybe you need a pill?
Vomit is on the upswing,
visual stimulation overload.
Brain cells can’t sort this one out,
tears are dry as bones.
Your neck is turned full sideways,
the punch is coming on fast,
Quick reaction is not your strong suit,
fall to the floor, break like glass.
What is happening to this picture,
not set, not neat, not bound?
Houses, cars, children, stores,
benchmarks strewn by the way
You’re in need of a clutch hit,
your world is stumbling on.
Detachment, resentment, complacence,
smug on your rug as a bug.
Happiness is a gun over-warmed,
second hand shits on a turd.
Feet of clay encased in cement,
your vomit is now overboard.
11/11/17
I once boxed Mohammed Ali.
Then I knocked him out in Round Three.
I thrust out my chest
to show who was best.
Said, “Yo, now who stings like a bee?”
5th Place
Name Dropper Limerick Contest
Sponsor: Kevin Shaw
9/14/17
On a beautiful picnic was I
with a wonderful gorgeous new guy
till breaking the mood
and spoiling our food
came a ravenous huge ugly fly.
We got up and walked to the pier
Then what of all things did appear
round our heads as we kissed?
That dang fly that sure missed
our presence and did persevere!
It kept buzzing and buzzing. Oh my!
Just couldn’t stand by and be shy.
So I thrust out my hand
with a slam that was grand.
Squashed fly tossed to river – BYE BYE.
Written Feb. 26, 2017
for Shadow Hamilton's The Unwanted Guest Poetry Contest
Caught behind barbed wire
Tangled in a child's shame,
old regrets and fears
We sometimes pierce our souls
in the death grip of our love offerings
Delightful wild-flowers
clutched in hopeful fists
Thrust out from our shadowlands
to be caught by understanding hands
How achingly beautiful we are
in the presence of their tender
and fragrant significance
© Cornelia Mattioli aka Flying Angel
Have you seen the part time plumber?
He plumbs in winter and a pop-star in summer
During a plumbing job, he will thrust out his spanner
Singing into it “Copacabana”
The Ultimate Protection Against Monsters
By Elton Camp
Little Leroy is frightened at night
About horrid monster prone to bite
He has learned the danger to cure
Any part under the cover is secure
There a brute can’t break through
In order, any grievous harm to do
Since Leroy even covered his head
He feared of suffocation to be dead
Finally, a solution his dad did provide
Which little Leroy gratefully tried
If a snorkel is thrust out into the air
The child could breathe under there
Leroy slept very peacefully that way
All gruesome monsters kept at bay
Love of truth
the very light of Greece
A peninsula thrust out
like a bony hand,
‘God-tormented Greece,’
Zeus exclaimed,
“I shall give man ‘an evil,’ as the price of fire:
They will clasp destruction with laughter of desire.”
The Gods live on-even though obscure.
Fate rules them too, as Zeus learns
the heroes must die; and the greater
the heroism the earlier the death.
Greece being, itself so divided
between the rational and irrational,
between logic and instinct,
between the scientific and the magical,
between the state of self possession
and that of being possessed,
and one can continue……
between symmetry and diversity,
between the recognition of limits
and the pursuit of the limitless,
between restraint and vaulting ambitions,
or hubris, Pythagoras in all his wisdom
could achieve no resolution or harmonia.
Of all these diverse elements, what was
greatest in him, and in Greece,
was the recognition of these conflicts
for what they were…….
that by grappling with them
a better order in life might then arise.
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