From the minarets the call to prayer resounds
Breaking the peaceful silence of the dawn
In its undulation of fervent fanatical need
And all across the world the daily call spreads
Making non-believers at least tolerant
Of the mysterious words and haunting refrain
Lulled into acceptance as by a snake charmer
Women too now rising up
In the name of liberation
Fervently fanatical in the need
To have it their way,
From conception to abortion and infanticide
To now the freedom to filicide,
Have it their way
A brave new Burger Queen world
Without compromise or sacrifice
For the only job they were born to do.
Meanwhile the minaret keeps up its call
Loudly proclaiming to the faithful
Ignorant and deluded,
And increasingly deserving,
“Make Misogyny Great Again”.
(9/13/26)
there is nothing to absorb
when taken outside of scale
on the inside
feeling a vacuum of temporality
forgetting, the salve
fast-track in slow-mo
undulation of gossamer breathing
stroking the skin
inhabiting bone
I feel you - feeling
fractals flip on their sharp edges
carving particles
form is spliced
remains are in rapturous form
a mass exhale
pulls out my lungs
whilst you bathe
exposure
separates the silt
succumbed to sedation -
lilting sound becomes tonal, flat
choices tilt
.choke on thought.
sighs cannot wash away
I could flail - let me flail -
yet my core is made of lead
this world is in quicksand
a held centre
a spiral
scratch the walls
beneath the flow
scratch the walls
cling to
time... . .
Inspired by 'universe of water particles' by Teamlab
we’re all zombies.
only some of us know it.
it's an odd topic for small talk, I guess,
but I can’t stop thinking
how the sweetest smell on earth
comes from the skulls
of freshly born—
that warm cradle-crease
where the bone hasn’t decided yet
to harden into identity.
they say the intoxicating scent
of babies is nothing more than
the untethered undulation
of their new brains pulsating
under cranial sutures—
they stay un-fused until age two,
still pliable enough to dream
us all into a softer reality.
Was it off-white?
A cavity on the hem of my socks
Undulation,but palpably grazed
like the letters you never unfastened
I set sail for my untrimmed toenails
A cavity on the edge of my nail plate
“Ma, its uneven”
Notes, chords, and bolted doors
Inaudible, I pulled more thread
Attenuated, I pulled
The darkest possible color
Reached my wavering fingers
“Ma, it wouldn’t look good”
Chortled, was something funny?
I couldn't catch it
“Ma…my needle broke”
Rainbows glimmered after a laugh
I'm thirsty
My sock is missing
Two large figures left the room
Loose clothes
And covered feet
“Ma, my thread is thin”
Patterns, of investigation,
Autumn starlings, murmuration,
Tidal sand wave, undulation,
Tectonic plates, foliation,
Evergreen fronds, forestation,
Rainbows of illumination,
Nature’s endless, fascination,
Science, our imagination.
Under flaming intimate heartbeat
Rhythm of the descent moon's sight
Velvet twilight grayness vision of night.
Still-life far away from the nearest street
Under the limbs of a tall hollow reject abstract
Flickering shadows dance lack
Weary Wounded Sigh,
Hard soil suppressed deeper.
Tiredness of digging undulation,
Hunted near extinction for an acceptation
Of the dying soul beacon scripture.
3/28/2024
When the earliest wave of love find its way upon our shore
We feel joy mixed with confusion…having never felt this way before.
We know the joy we’re feeling…having felt it from the start…
but how can we possibly know what’s in another person’s heart?
Still as the waves of love keep flowing…each undulation plays a part
as we begin the gradual process of understanding each other’s heart.
As we feel the tempo of the waves more and more we come to know…
that this love we’re feeling must be nurtured if it ever is to grow.
As love grows we become more comfortable with the movement of each tide
and it is easier to lie back…float along…and enjoy the rhythm of the ride.
Allowing us as each day we grow a little older…to enjoy a little more
those waves of love that, to our delight, keep finding their way upon our shore.
Until the day we ride with confidence…knowing how we each have played a part
In learning from that first wave…how to read each other’s heart.
Undulation flows amid the aqua in silver, whitecap water spray.
2-14-2023
A Ripple To Me Poetry Contest
JCB Brul
Easily with our ears picked
But mostly with our Feet kicked:
A skirting round a dance floor
Back and forth its entrance door.
No sooner by cochlea’s filtered
Than it is by lips uttered
And by the hands gestured,
As swinging them is nurtured:
Corrupted hips in a non-stop undulation,
Fantasizing eyes, a ceaseless dilation
Every second impressing Rotational Speed
Little or no restraint to heed.
A balm for wounded spirit music:
An eraser of a hurting hiss,
A genre faithfully fanning out pleasantries,
Another volunteering unfamiliar quaintness:
The First, A Melody For The Mild
The Second A Package for The Wild
The Former by Degrees boisterous
The Latter ever willing to be mysterious
A served dish of contrasting choices
By an as much contrasting voices
Quick millions showers an upcoming talent
A supporting shoulder for the voice with a dent
Curiously to some readers, A Great Help
And when they can’t it reach A Yelp!
Beguiling Spirits
I know of their enchantments
The longings they inspire
Of promised inhibitions
And kindling desire.
Constrained by walls which glimmer
Opaque or dim or clear
Sweet barely muted whispers
Succumb the naked ear.
A hand upon the vessel
The stopper freed at last
A casual undulation
Poured neat into the glass.
Embracing sips then swallows
Well finished is the fight
Enveloped by the liquor
Of amber, red, or white.
The thin thread of the horizon
where the sky meets the sea welcomes me
with my dreamer's dreams of peaceful serenity
as I walk the soft undulation of the seashore
to absorb the vastness of its realm
filled with shades and shadows
whether from above or below
to allow my spirit to wander in search of silent mysteries
and untied thoughts
so I may escape the world of confusion
on the shores of white waves and aqua blue water
drawing strength with each salted breath
from its ebb and flow that offers a tranquil eternity
of quiet solitude and beautiful bliss
that will remain long after I'm gone
and like so many others
discover the dreams of my soul
as it soars to the horizon
where the sky and sea meet
8/19/21
contest Writing Prompt, Ocean or Seas
sponsored by Constance La France
You've reached the top, so
there's nowhere left to climb.
Enjoy the mountain view now
for there's a shortage of time.
With every step you take,
tread gently and stroll long
for bagpipes are awaiting
another moment's song.
Come down with graceful ease,
like an eagle, gliding low.
When you reach the sower's ground
there are mysteries below.
12-9-2020
SONNET FOR WINDS OF CHANGE
Cross cirrus sky swift brush strokes paint mares' tails
Tree tops are in restless susurration,
While cumbrous clouds traverse in vapour trails
Mead grass is fanned in wild undulation
Lake face whipped to agitated motion
Plumes roughed, wildfowl voyage with discretion
Gulls in-land tell of wild storms on ocean
All braced to face nature's bare aggression
When young I chose such rugged medium
Deplored the concept then of perfect peace
Such state suggested endless tedium
Hazard preferred to slow drawn out release
While I now sometimes seek respite from strife
I yet love winds that change, give breath to life
In my brittle life’s fragile landscape changes are not aberration,
etching a valley incised on contours of topographic undulation,
meanders in time to plains of nebulous future taking shape,
changes are not aberration in my brittle life’s fragile landscape.
Many a surging streams in a spate I’d crossed in a blink,
with petals of dreams held close to the heart lest they’d sink,
chased the butterflies in the scented air to the yonder strait,
I’d crossed in a blink many a surging streams in a spate.
From the soul’s depth of bliss I collected a treasure
of rare gems sparkling in divine ecstasy to the full measure,
pearls of dew adorned my meadow, their hue I didn’t miss,
I collected a treasure from the soul’s depth of bliss.
While I walk the last mile I won’t count the steps any more,
at the end of time when I’ll reach life’s eternal sea shore,
before setting sail I’ll look back at the footprints for a while,
I won’t count the steps any more while I walk the last mile.
June 9, 2020
Contest : Swap The Verse
Sponsor : Joseph May
Mint Duet
Tongues swathed in mint
Trestlework of undulation
Swoosh of utter breezes
The cool tingling sensation
Today’s Date: 12/18/2019
Arbitrium Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gregory R. Barden
Original Poem: Sensational Lovemaking
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