"The future is an unimagined landscape." - Thomas S. Monson
My dreams, like migratory birds, take flight.
I visit my dark known and unknown realms.
I brighten dark nooks with colourful light.
Feeling each charm-tinge, my heart overwhelms.
Why should I cram my head with a coarse load?
I need not, as a freak, cut others' throat.
I should, with no prejudice, write my code.
I should slowly take the helm of my boat.
Paths are endless. Vistas are numerous.
I should undertake my pilgrimage now.
Should I put my trust in futile rumours?
To beauty before me, I'd always bow.
My heart and mind are tabula rasa.
Nature would scribe existential drama.
(My first attempt at writing a Villanelle)
Earth has woken up from under the blanket of gloom.
Sun has emerged beaming garishly bright.
Bees buzz around fragrant flowers that bloom.
Early morn looks fresh and beautiful as a bloom
Between the twilight glare and the golden light,
Earth has woken up from under the blanket of gloom.
Joggers are out for their routine walk to groom.
Inhaling fresh morning air, for them, is sheer delight.
Bees buzz around fragrant flowers that bloom.
With sunrise, shadows have begun to zoom
The roads lie vacant in still lingering twilight.
Earth has woken up from under the blanket of gloom.
Women are not yet out to sweep the yard with their broom
Which the rustic folk religiously undertake as a routine rite.
Bees buzz around fragrant flowers that bloom.
As the day advances, all sundry activities will resume.
The quiet will cease and business will throw back in full might.
Earth has woken up from under the blanket of gloom.
Bees buzz around fragrant flowers that bloom.
___________________________________
If you could read my mind
it would be more difficult for me to escape
I have the craftiest plan
but it will not work if you do read my mind
I am a ghost here, you have taken all of my blood
Bloodless, friendless and alone, I ponder my fate
Do I have enough energy left to make a break for it?
What if you catch me, will I be dead?
If you could read my mind, you would know I am miserable
Something I fear to tell you, for you are a mean pouter
I plot my path, wanting to undertake a new journey
It does not include you, but I wisely keep this hidden
Because I fear your wrath, your temper and your meanness
Because I am terrified of what you might do to me.
Where is my dog? He disappeared a long time ago.
If he is dead, where is his body? I plot my escape.
the head ovoid aflame
a million bliss bubbles pulsating
conjoined with the energy grid looping form
with who can we share this when no one can pair
thus it becomes a journey we undertake alone
perhaps one day feeble form will just burst
unable to contain power of magnetism
who knows
we wait
alone
In the glow of neon lights,
Fast food joints open nights.
Golden arches beckon near,
A feast so fast, all must revere.
Burgers sizzle, fries delight,
In the shadows of the night.
But oh, the cost, we often pay,
Health and wellness brushed away.
Grease and sugar, salt galore,
In every bite, we crave for more.
Yet hidden in this swift delight,
Are hidden perils, out of sight.
Convenience calls, we heed the plea,
Ignoring what the cost might be.
For every burger, every shake,
A toll on health, we undertake.
So in this world of speed and zest,
Pause and ponder what is best.
Balance out the fast food craze,
For a healthier, brighter phase.
never afraid to ask many a question
never afraid to undertake a suggestion
are those with forward thinking drive
as they reach out further so they strive
steering away far from the hive like mind
and the blindness eyes of most humankind
not becoming lost inside the vast mind invasion
or falling for the tricks of one true great salesman
they don`t want to lose what they freely own
rather bled blood then be another duplicate clone
so they live their lives risking to be ostracized
never being the ones to become totally comprised
listening to both sides before making a decision
something we`ve lost with this new world vision
because they have different views and opinions
they are told they are societies biggest villains
I have been watching the reflective script of the above
Rocky and Bullwinkle show, its not a serious account, unless you go.? On
Climactic tangents of ideology.' Stratisfied in layers of
Polar opposite topography.' Ahead of its time, I do find,!
Its content worth study, as a window on climate lunacy.'
An antidote yet where laughs and jokes, aren't taken seriously.'
Which was a mistake.? According to the world we now see.'
And the antics some undertake.'
absorbed in contemplation
wherein time disappears
save by the alarm clock ringing
we cannot return to this world
to perform the chores we need to do
or have so decided to undertake
call it forgetfulness
or a priority shift
we now activate
timer on our phone
otherwise the eggs will over boil
In pursuit of curves, some choose the lift,
A quest for beauty, a transformative shift.
But amidst the surgeries, a deeper tale,
A journey where self-love might set sail.
No judgment for choices, the paths we take,
Yet ponder the reasons, the risks we undertake.
Society's pressures, perceptions we bear,
A world where self-worth is laid bare.
South African souls, playing a role,
In the pursuit of beauty, losing their goal.
Attachments for love, a side hustle unfolds,
Prostitutes and marriages, tales to be told.
Relationships falter, lost in the void,
A nation sickened, values destroyed.
In African hair, judgment is cast,
Weaves worn proudly, but shadows are cast.
Obsessed with material, souls for sale,
Range Rovers and Mercedes, a tempting tale.
In pursuit of dreams, they trade their core,
Yet later, reflections bring insecurity ashore.
Selling bodies for riches, a path they tread,
But marriages suffer, innocence shed.
In the mirror, they question love's essence,
Forgetting the purpose, losing their innocence.
Always it's you
Beneath my skin
Catching my breath
Detouring my mind
Even when I try to
Fight impulses I still
Give in to you
Happily because
I love you and not
Just your sexy smile
Keeps me entranced
Lord no! There's much
More about you!
Nonstop wit and
Overflowing charm
Power wielded over me
Quickly disarming
Really any and all
Sense of personal
Trepidation my soul may
Undertake in a final
Valiant effort to try to
Weakly resist your
Xenial nurturing way
You still pull me in
Zapping my last bit of will
©SamHarty
OPPOSING ACRE
Well, is it better to travel than arrive
Getting there doesn’t mean you rest
As that is when exploring starts again
To return here, nobody knows when
Stand on the walls and beat your chest
Such adventures make you feel alive
Arriving safely means you do survive
Maybe lose a shirt but keep your vest
No more travelling, just count to ten
Stay in this spot like all satisfied men
No need to undertake any other test
For yet more glory, let others strive
Having to undertake my journey through life
I face unusual situations...This time with animals...
In the lagoon the alligator opens its huge mouth and orders me:
-Swim.
.. In the field, the sibylline serpent hisses:
- Walk...
. !In the cold white snow the scary wolf looks at me and howls:
- Pass.
.. On the prairie the fierce buffalo roars
- Ride..
.. At the top of the rock, cunning menacing lion studies me and snores: -
Come here,,,
I almost calmly admonish:
- I'm not stupid or anything else I tell them: "I don't obey your orders" ..
This is how I continue my journey. Being able to tell this story alive,,,! ...!
Yesterday the world engaged askance
And as you held my hand
As surely as the firmament of Earth
The hardening of your gaze
Assured my spirit of your recant
It is in the world we know it as time itself
here shadows bend within visions far beyond hope
Mountainous, like regions where eternals dwell
The pillage of my heart takes hold
With things to mend and tasks to undertake
Where luminescent dalliances of shade
Cast orbs betwixt the spheres of dawn
You stand, deft in your repose
And I wait, ready to meet your gaze
Where words of wisdom
Sing within your gaited frame
All hopes of reason rise beyond this dawnless day
And long begotten promises of future fate
Cast only spells of love
And nothing late
With myrtle and listenability
I undertake the words of the prophets
Memories relapse in an unhealthy fashion
Man the forgetful
this rectangular mouth
compromises loftily
The Moons harsh splendour
boasts its specious context
as marigold and beam
sway across my October windowsill
like salt peter cleansing the pelt
truth is unburdened
It's a good paying job
one quite devoid of monetary reward
or financial remuneration.
It's an important occupation,
an essential branch of the arts,
one that takes third place to the least
or the last.
The poet has to be
a sculptor without marble or clay
a blind painter of visions
that cannot be hung in a gallery
or bought for a penny.
It is a grand and delusional task
poets undertake,
a wild hope that words alone
can move or improve a jot or a tittle.
This 'calling' this willing servitude
to only imaginative insights
has it own rewards
though accolades must be deferred
until the world awakens
or falls deeper into its sleep.
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