Allusions lead to absence?
Believe it, sir and ma'am.
Hold the door? Then get ye hence?
Why the constant slam?
Truth be told, the terror tells.
Tollbooth of the dead.
Nebula, will-o-the-wells.
Stray to look ahead...
Young the yellow yearling?
It's right there in his name.
Hornets, honeybees. Same sting?
Stake it on thy claim.
Frame of usual story?
O kindness, are you real?
Would if could, morning glory?
Flicker as ye feel!
Unity the ugly damn?
Indeed. That's been true.
Summertime, the crowds thin. Ham?
Blow away the blue.
Hated is the world outside!
Woe betide, landslide.
Pace of poet, poison plied.
How the cockerels chide...
Categories:
tollbooth, cheer up,
Form: Rhyme
The angel works the tollbooth
Exclaiming commands for change
They are a barber on the side
with faded tattoo arms
Holding shears made of fire
coated in silent pious rage
Hiding blood in their thermos
Waiting for a Judgement day
Categories:
tollbooth, angel, drink, judgement, religion,
Form: Rhyme
I doubt if I am unique but I love to play, draw, dance and cartoon.
I like staring for hours at oak trees, dead leaves, cats and the moon.
I yelled “no” to my first grade teacher which labelled me for life.
I never wanted to be a girl, woman, or anyone’s girlfriend or wife.
Peter Pan lives in my soul along with Pippi Longstocking and Oliver.
Books became my best friends; especially The Tollbooth Tolliver.
Nightly I sit with two I-pads on my lap, playing hours of word games.
I paint four to six paintings a week, cartoons of women of Thames.
Ten grandchildren know me as the fun-loving wild woman of Me.
“Be you” is a theme I paint on practically every painting they see.
Many express surprise that I am sixty-eight, which I think is great.
I plan to learn new things until the day I end up at the pearly gate.
I thought I had created my own spirituality until I read some books.
Native Americans have always believed in the same; this reality shook.
I am clairaudient and clairsentience – seeing and hearing the deceased.
There is nothing unique about me, except my hair is incredibly greased.
Categories:
tollbooth, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
a decastitch
Agur offered this dual plea
to the Lord God Almighty.
Keep lies far from me;
give me riches nor poverty.
a well-reasoned entreaty
Agur was no simple youth.
great wealth renders pride forsooth
great hunger makes men uncouth.
We’ll all encounter deception's tollbooth
counting medallion moments of truth.
written March 17, 2018, inspired by Proverbs 30:7-9
contest: Laura Loo's, 10 lines 5 words III
Categories:
tollbooth, 10th grade, bible, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tangible mica moribund interweaved, in an ocean full of tragedies....
Trying to make its break, past these bloodline riptides into the open waters ~
Beyound crimsons indelible dyes of derisions crashing tollbooth waves!?
Mockery, tattoo'd these lesions like a buoy affixed amid twilights taut
Webbed whirlpools; as martials glittering carnival cruise debris gathers aneath
This taunting starless night while, black icebergs circle thirsting great whites....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Martyrdom; adrift amid these serpentine seas?!
Categories:
tollbooth, hope, life, love,
Form: I do not know?
my son comes by and looks over my shoulder
at his picture on my PC's wallpaper
he analyses it carefully seeing
himself as so young, so innocent
he can't believe he was ever that
young and innocent
(he's twenty now)
life spans before him like the view
from a tollbooth at a suspension bridge
his motor revving a little
he looks at the collector in the booth
then at the long span
over the river of life
ready to ride, he presses the gas,
confidently grips the wheel
and pulls away, the music in his ears
© Goode Guy 2011-08-22
Categories:
tollbooth, childhood, family, father, life,
Form: Free verse
All that I counted gain was but loss
(In the spots whereto Latency teems).
On cut, polished stones in fields of dreams,
Each pirate's loot was marked with a cross,
Where dreamers and their dreams were serried;
The tollbooth had lulled them all to sleep
Within the interment parcels, deep,
Hidden in earthen vessels buried
In plain view on these treasure islands;
Panegyrics soon voiced his pleasures
Of unknown descendants' veiled measures
Of wisdoms covered on these highlands,
Boxed with talents, volumes, inventions,
Signed with this epitaph on each tomb-
"Potential sealed up after the womb
Will pave this road with good intentions.
Thus, rob your own grave, enlarged since birth,
Of pains, knowledge, and the fear to fail;
True Natures make known your visions well;
Empty your treasure-troves upon earth."
Categories:
tollbooth, adventure, art, death, devotion,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme