It seems that every 10 to 12 days or so
my living room faces the force of my manic episodes
sticky-tacking every coloring book image
completed to the walls
rearranging lights in hopes something shines better
I can’t arrange my furniture in a way
that curls me into comfort
molds me interwoven home’s aroma
maybe
the issue isn’t whether the couch belongs
against the left or right wall
or against the wall at all
or possibly
the fact my bed is a place of unrest
it’s probably
my reluctance to unpack the real problems
but I’m too preoccupied trying to change things
that won’t make a difference in the first place
Value people when they have life
Strangely, people understand lately
Everything is loud and clear, yet blinds
Still, people find it challenging, but why? honestly
Wait, let’s unpack the fact.
Dead people do not speak
Neither response is to pick a fight
They are calm and quiet
Due to which they candlelight
Celebrate the opponent's flight
Words flow with compassion disguised
The love poured out seamlessly
Memorial services filled with sighs
If he wakes up again endlessly?
All the love talks bag up sky’s
Life goes on as usual
Two kinds live in the world.
Loving people keep loving
Evil people keep hating.
Living in a broken world
It’s been a long time since
I’ve ventured into
this new studio of mine—
dust has settled like ashes
on the unshelved books
and the jars of brushes
still packed away in boxes
that intimidate me.
Since I’m already here
I might as well unpack
one carton of my past.
I slit the tape on a box
labeled Miscellaneous,
not knowing what I’ll find.
Inside, a parrot, a toucan,
some triangles and French curves.
And buried deeper —
a chambered nautilus,
a Royal Doulton mare and foal,
and a photo of my daughter
in the beloved red clogs
we bought in Reykjavik—
and which she took to bed with her
each night ‘til she outgrew them —
legs crossed like a diva,
already queen of her small world.
The room watches in stillness
as I lay each relic
in the light like an offering,
and with each one
the unfamiliar space
begins to feel it might really
become my new studio.
Something in me loosens—
and begins to believe it too.
My knees crack as I rise—
it’s not exactly
a resurrection, but it’s
close enough for a Thursday.
I dust off the windowsill,
open another box,
and let the light fall in.
Maybe, just maybe,
I might be home at last.
The summer holidays are here!
Time to relax and unwind.
Let's head for the beach,
build sandcastles, ride on donkeys
and paddle in the sea.
The golden sun is shining -
No clouds are in sight.
We apply coconut scented lotion
then lay on beach towels
taking care not to burn!
We unpack our picnic hamper
onto a huge tartan rug.
There’s lots of delicious treats
food gets eaten very quickly -
we’re wary of pesky seagulls!
Two figures laughing in the tangible woodlands
just as they were the young teens during first visit
enjoying the walk through the vegetation to look
for the spot they deemed sacred for themselves
he decided to lean against a tree to view their
carved initials in the precious bark of the seemly
replicas rows of trees as she decided to pick colorful
flowers to place in her hair from the abundance of them
A beautiful day to soak up a natural nature vibe
reminiscing about the many visits, different seasons
spring being the best times, sun peeking through
the tall trees as they unpack and hook the ends of
a hammock to relax in their familiar spot as they
engage in deep conversations about life as usual
The sunset warns of darkness creeping in soon, so time to
unhook the hammock to repack, walking towards the path
through the thick vegetation whilst giggling and laughing
about a pastime that would never get old.
He left footsteps
On maroon heart
Pickled my breath
Left me teal tart
A shadow of self
Onyx eyes now dark
Casting my cares
Left stoic torn apart
Let me wallow in my pain
I avoid sun and embrace rain
For without one the other is vain
This too shall pass but I remain
Stuck in a lesson learned too well
Burned in my brain like fire from hell
Give me some time I’m sure to unpack
Reorganize my mind get my groove back
First you take the girl
up on the southern Downs -
on a day with light wind
and bright sunshine.
Then you unpack things
from your bulging back pack -
with emphasis on those
Picnic goodies.
Next you ask for help
stretching the fabric out
to fit the sticks inside -
looking in her eyes.
While she holds the tail
you touch her hand with yours
as you tie up the string
ready for the air.
You give her the reel
and offer up the kite
to the heavens where her
presence transports you.
Place your hand over hers
and show her how to let
the string free the kite to fly.
When she turns, kiss her.
It's very simple.
© Griffonner 2024
angry-gray steam billowing
from its coal-stoked furnace
its whistle threatening a reckoning
speed decreasing with each turn of its wheels
the mighty locomotive pulled into
the station, her denizens eagerly waving
to folks as familiar as the sounds of the prairie
adventures to unpack once back home
Never have I seen trouble as deep as
The catastrophe in Tamaulipas.
I chanced on a 6-kilometer crack -
A lot of information to unpack.
If you fall into the crack, it seems,
You'll be in China or the Philippines.
I tell you straight, put it on the level -
It is either drainage or the devil.
It can be such a game
With fortune and fame there to choose
Sometimes hard to select
Not knowing if you'll win or lose
Once in a while times come
When you turn around and look back
You might see the baggage
That you have yet come to unpack
Some roads are short and smooth
While others are bumpy and long
Often you'll feel welcome
Other times you will not belong
No matter what happens
You will go through so many scenes
The best you can hope for
Is to remain true to your dreams
I'm a fly on the wall,
I like to see it all.
As you unpack,
Putting away this and that.
Off to explore,
As the boat leaves the shore.
Will it sink?
Boy, that would stink!
Too many people,
Going hither and yon.
The trip took a long time,
Didn't want to be away so long!
As a fly on the wall,
I couldn't keep up at all,
We traveled along the coast,
Seeing lands of which we could boast.
Swatted away to an open window,
Attached to a whale,
On a way,
To a new place to prevail.
and there you are, your bright blue eyes
hold me captive, my sunrise
awaiting your good Morning text
to stArt my day, what happens next?
i chance to think of you and i
while looking up into the sky
a view of us above the world
it's me aloft with my dReam girl
acRoss the land, across the sea
atop your wings, just You and me
alone together flying far
we'll land upon the furthest star
and when we do, i won't look back
nothing with Me to unpack
except a canvas, blank, brand nEw
to paint my days and nights with you
Writing a poem a day keeps the stress away
Do not give up on your destiny
Just unpack all your thoughts on a sheet of paper!
History has taught us that all generations wage war with a pen
Just let your thoughts explode in a word that defines history!
Learn the code because writing poetry is a great healer!
A poem a day helps to keep the stress away and
A word of passion heals the soul!
Often we can be caught in a mess
But by writing a poem you might soon discover that
Exposing a word is the best treatment towards pain
Write a poem and
You will never be the same again
Face your test
Never forget the quest within your life
Because the test is the reason for living at
The right time in the right season
Writing a poem a day keeps the stress away
Mark Frank
Copyright 2024
The smell of the Autumn breeze is amorous cleansing the air again of the hot summer months ordered duty to Autumn breeze and a story and a love feeling waving hello Making one wave of energy that waves a triumphant of being complete an everlasting tune or story. But winter is near.So at that time, I will unpack my winter clothes and some gear I hope to get at the store when the leaves fall from the trees and turn brown not green to ensure winter is almost here to get ready to rock steady were the snow flow far away from my house winter joys and taste brings winter love cabin fireplace and smoke the chimney flames the atmosphere with laughter.
With a breezy cheer, Autumn is here bringing thoughts of listening!
We sat at our favorite table facing the door in a relaxed position
singing an autumn song feeling the sweet nectar breezy healing the bones drinking rosemary tea and ginger my feet in a relaxed position recovering
from the chill in the air that wasn,t there before waves of autumn energy and movements is here is there in the air everywhere the breeze roam around the room. My face my hair my nose The smell of autumn is Amorous!
The full moon followed us here, there and everywhere with its madcap mischievousness, but brought us home safe and sound. — poet
Pleasure of pleasures to be home.
A pleasing treasure of the front door.
Opening, stretching, seeking solace.
Practically diving inside, turning
the faucet back on; releasing air
conditioning and oh…oh…the joy
of the showering spray, removing
the night before, the morning after
from Delta delays. Oh the laze…
did I say the laze…oh no no no…
working to unpack, just to wash
and refill the suitcases. Laboring
for a reunion in Atlantic City.
Mercy and mercy and fun, fun, fun
in the Jersey sun and buffets too,
and much talk talk talk…until
our threshold greets us again
with a chummy slap on the back.
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