Fistful butterflies sway along with the wind.
Ever frolicking through the vibrant desires.
Fistful sand slipping down in haste.
Unbothered about the delays and tussles around.
Fistful days flipping over.
Highlighting every single day.
Fistful memories binding themselves together.
Creating a most treasured treatise.
Fistful wishes probable, contingent or disguise.
Forever igniting the coal inside.
Fistful choices through the passable maze.
Attempt to escape but no respite.
Fistful thoughts sparkling out of palpitating chords.
Capable of entangling entire life.
Fistful learning running through the veins.
Enabling sturdy stature to prevent the derail.
Fistful steps towards the embarkation.
Creating a journey that travels through the stars.
Fistful smiles fluttering around in joy.
Contagiously sorting out the difficulties and sorrow.
Fistful opportunities that emanate from hard work.
Enough to be the cynosure through the rise.
Fistful always lets the phoenix rise.
Every creation is a conscious choice.
Fistful time .....may what....may I write!
3min Write' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Dated: 16.09.2024
she opens her chest drawer
a button shines
she unhangs her coat
slacks it off cold wire shoulders
a button gone
lost in rain or rage
or lusting tussles
neither remembers anymore
she grips a needle
a thread follows behind
attaching a new fastener
to an old flap of jacket
she puts on the coat
models the mismatching
spins in front of a familiar mirror
watches herself
walks out a door
she never walks back in
Nothing's more private than touch;
other senses can't match it.
Without touch's tactile contact,
we'd all miss out on so much.
I bask in the sensation
of sunbeams stroking my skin.
Touch links me to Nature; it's
my tether to creation.
My cat's fur has a soft feel,
luxuriously silky.
And I enjoy petting it,
as her blissful purrs reveal.
When the wind tussles my hair,
I feel its playful hijinks.
And should a fly land on me,
my sense of touch pinpoints where.
Feeling my grandson wiggle
is a joyous sensation.
I love to tickle his feet
and make his belly jiggle.
My sense of touch lets me feel
the reality of life.
Exploring my surroundings,
touch defines what is real.
Would you take a chance with coarse anomy:
A folk with dreams like yours tag an enemy?
A partaker does hurt vibrant economy,
Dropped farms for power: Poorest Agronomy…
Rivals to get rid of with shameful hustles,
Paid full cash silencers who love their rustles:
I’ve long learnt to think of all power tussles
As “For the wrong reasons flexing one’s muscles.”
On the African scene badly burnt car,
Owner politician with its rude scar,
Life savers much afraid he would not go far.
“They might finish him off in some lone bar!”
Times it meant with cash, asking that one step down
But mostly with weapons to forget The Crown,
Bizarre shoot-outs and scuffles in a calm town,
In the end wasting Senators Charles and Brown…
Stark evidence one can’t targets deliver,
His subjects to meet with enclosing river;
One would only be worsening the fever:
The merely interested in Gold and Silver…
Yes, not at all times take one to the Tower,
Sometimes, hands one over to Grave with flower;
From oneself one takes away easeful hour,
A crazy idea: one hour in bower..
Like games greatly checked by youth-crushing age;
One shouldn’t in one’s seventies open the page.
dusted canyons
wild children play
blackbird finding its way home
Jesus said i should take more care
wanderings to smooth the soul
Solitude my melancholy way
who tussles these days?
I do not understand
what it is I wait for?
Leitmotifs are aplenty
sounds are driving us
we become the score
wrapping through the empty years
laughing at the tears inside
of a mariners ghost.
A mottled crab scuppers its sea legs
in fluorescent foam.
Blue pods rattle on green tides.
Bladder wrack, Mermaid’s Hair
washing tangled ankles.
There are voices in my open mouth,
they roll over a briny tongue,
intone words from the breath
of spray and brume.
Where the sky hangs, gull beaks open
to scoop the bones of a shoaling surf.
My heart is booming
in a hollow seashell.
This is the Church of a God
disrobed of human thought.
This is the roofless house
of the sun and moon,
a place consecrated to the storm,
to the depths of darkness;
to the bright blades
of the suns daggering rays.
This night the rough
tussles with the calm
and they dance at the edge
of a clashing chaos.
Mother, father, stranger,
we are all here speaking
through a whirlpool’s gullet,
yet who has gone ahead of us
to express this sea-glow
and hat surfaces at the edge
of our own shores?
The air inside,
Behind the doors I'm safe,
Safe from the other side of me,
Who is shrouded in mystery,
The man I am,
The person I see,
Is not who they see,
In isolation,
I'd stay,
Trapped away,
Separated from the world,
Until I have subdued,
Until I have conquered,
Until I have pushed aside,
That man who tussles my day with me.
September 16, 2022.
Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest,
Brian Strand.
I see the inequities
and the disdainful disparities
I see your struggles
and the testy tussles
I see your falls
and the slow crawls
I see your steady climb
through all the slimy grime
I see your perseverance
through all the encumbrances
I see your calm
through the storms
I'm omnipresent
I'm omnipotent
I'm omniscient
I'm everywhere
I'm all-powerful
I'm all-knowing
I see, so have no fear
my faithful servant, I am here
I've been preparing you,
so remain steadfast and get
ready for anew
Troubled Tuesday tussles through the tides
Taking turns to toil terrified today
That tip talking tremendously to the task
Tabled tales, the tall trees tossed
That touch
That trip
That tears
Taken
Tolerates
Trembling talks
The transparency travels
Telling Trevor to take the task
Today tears the town
My old farm hat wears
its scars on sleeve.
Mended rough and ready
for all to see is heroic deeds
in tussles with cows, bulls and trees.
Its soaked soft in sweat, mellowed with dust.
Patched with bits of other
old hats that have fallen apart, passed it.
Sewn with old leather throngs
through holes punched with a knife.
My old hat is as much a part of me
as my skin, burnt leathery brown
and scarred with age.
Our friendship was a ship
on a voyage till old age.
It started at the shore
of love and affection
beneath the night sky
of a cloudy weather.
We went west
back and forth
sailing through
huddles and tussles,
avoiding rocks
on the sea of trust.
We anchored firmly against
trembling waves of wrecks,
to prevent sinking
in each other's tears.
Alas,
gloom replaced radiance
when a sudden thrust
of disparity pieced through
the vessel's heart,
letting in an ocean of silence
in which we both sank
into our own thoughts,
not knowing what life had brought.
An eyrie of bald eagles stir,
waking to the fresh morning air.
Preening and primming flight feathers
grooming each with diligent care.
Flies buzz around yesterday's scraps,
fueled by the rays of the sun.
And shifting shadows disappear,
darkness defeated, dawn has won.
While perched high on a rocky crag,
their keen eyes soon survey the land.
And with uncanny precision,
vast hunting grounds are swiftly scanned.
Hungry eaglets flex flightless wings
forming formidable muscles.
And food brought by the parent birds
oft instigates sibling tussles.
Calling out and circling close by,
eagles urge chicks to leave the nest.
And for the first time, fledglings flap
feathered wings, passing nature's test.
(Quatrain)
07/19/2020
I look to the one I love and ponder what I'm feeling:
I see the arms that hold me tight
Connected to the big yet gentle hands
The system that hugs away my fright
I hear the heart that makes mine race
Pumping blood throughout this lifeform
So calm and full of grace
I smell the coconut from his hair
The beautiful golden locks
He tussles them without a care
I touch his warm chest
The best place to lie my tired head
I know that I am truly blessed
I taste his sweet kiss
His perfect lips pressed against mine
This is the true meaning of bliss
I look to the one I love and I am overwhelmed with emotion
Smooched in candy apple she pouched her cinnamon lips
The fair had come into town with travellers and wagons
It was that time of the year when dreams would come true
Glittered in mellow fairy dust of innocence and imagination
Lucy was finally old enough to mount the carnival horse
The carrousel took her on a roller coaster ride to heaven
Golden locks mingled with the wild stallions quivering mane
A cow girl on paradise’s tracks to unbound passion and joy
‘More and once again please just for one time’
Ears full of musical aura of unfettered hooves clattered
Popped the drums as they galloped across the wild prairie
As she went dizzy with laughter and the charm of delight
She embraced the withers and bounced up in the saddle
Looked with swelling pride at the crest full of promise
Tiny legs barely reached the stirrups feathered in tussles
‘Better than chocolate sprinkles on coconut iced cream’
A match of tender caress and touch of rocking intuitive trust
Daddy smiled and vowed to never grow up
A shoot escapes biting this stars ray,
E'er so oft rain splashes near its day,
Lil glow often drawn in braids,
Wind tussles ardent in trades,
A petaled sheath loosens for display.
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