Writing the words
I welcome the day
Writing the words
with new things to say
Writing the words
my heart like a sponge
Writing the words
all silence expunged
Every new sound
alive in the air
Every new phrase
unspoken to share
Every last vowel
irreverent of time
Every last breath
gives voice to the mime
Pen in my hand
the journey begins
Pen in my hand
through virtue and sin
Pen in my hand
the Muses surround
Pen in my hand
their voices expound
Dreams of my father
dreams of my son
Dreams hold me captive
dreams rebegun
Dreams in the mirror
dreams that relay
Dreams bringing freedom
dreams — dare I pray
***
Narrative Musings
Poetry
can’t scare me
But then
there’s the prose
Freewheeling
unstructured
I’m lost
in its throes
The words
in my capture
As verse
I sustain
But narrative
musings
I fight
— to proclaim
***
In The Instant
Always the next
poem
always the next
verse
That already
written
retreats
to disperse
What comes
as a presence
stays fresh
to surmise
And freed
in this instant
each word
— more alive
(The New Room: May, 2026)
I’m a seashell.
No one inside, but spiraling patterns and maybe memories.
No one knows how to tangle with seaweed anymore.
Or how to live off slime.
I used to know these things.
Nothing works underwater.
Except fins and eyes.
No one knows how to survive ocean things.
Anything good about me…
Got washed away like something unstructured.
Living like slime so what does slime eat?
Disastrous.
I’m a seashell or something.
With nothing except horrible thoughts of cave divers.
I’m a seashell.
I’m beautiful and I used to be alive.
I’m still part of the sea this summer.
I certainly never heard of things.
Like summer, humans, or how to live a long life.
let her words be,
right or wrong,
her writing,
grammar and syntax be damned,
let it all resonate,
let it reverberate,
let it tell a story,
a tall, long tale
of truths,
let it transcend,
all pain (well at least her pains)
and the chilling nights,
and the embrace of morning.
through her words, and through her writing,
her very unstructured, unorthodox, free verse writing,
there is no mourning...
no morning, and no mourning
this is the setting
and these are the unique circumstances
even before she writes...
Sugar cubes and coffee grounds
May skies beckon birds soaring
Sunlit paths lead to fields of gold
An exodus from darknesses’ gloom
Sail away to transitional fame
In route to where u’re meant to be
Appeal scorn’s judgement of you
A freedom sought is one to cherish
Pages turn and chapters burn
Poetic notes break the mold
Offbeat tales bold and untold
Dare to carve thru the untamed path
Play in the margins where rules decay
Strive to recognize unstructured grace
I’m run by rising rhyming rant,
You wish you caught me but you can’t!
I wish to stop this run of rhyme,
It gobbles up my time, no dime.
I wish to turn to poignant prose -
Unstructured, unrhymed and verbose.
I wish to write an awesome book
With King of Horror’s type of hook,
Jurassic Park or Bridge of Spies,
(if nothing else Jaws would suffice)
The one that catches Spielberg’s eyes.
So here’s a clean slate of my quill
Upon my fresh prosaic will -
To write like Stephen, sought by Steve -
My resolve by next New Year’s Eve.
As I construct my verse run free,
These darn rhymes still won’t quit on me.
I guess I’m doomed and so are you!
My rhymes rejoice, each year anew!
Therefore for a New Year I wish
For perfect rhymes, not perfect-ish!
The Man .....
Before they talk you outta loving me
before they tell you to say no
I want you to see the diamond
I have bought you
take my hand and we can go
I know a place , a bit to eat
a spot to dance
Baby It's all on you just take my hand
We can Dance
We can Dance
we can Share the night
with romance
We can dance
We can Dance
We can Share the Night
with romance
The Woman
Darling I'm bound by obligations
Believe me I'm honored
but i can't see
the same tomorrow you try'na sell me
one of those kisses might make me see
it's beautiful
awe i like the ring
I guess we should start planning
our wedding and everything
our honeymoon who you want to sing
I'm hungry a bit to eat
some wine make sure it's sweet
We can Dance
We can Dance we can share the night
with romance
We can Dance
we can Dance
we can share the night
with romance
Long Structured Melodies
Passionate and full of energy
* musician make $149.00 per night*
Orchestra musician need to apply
Apply with Melody on Music!
POETIC BIO
Alliteration,the starting place, alongside
cinquains,apace in time,crystalline
lanterne and rhyme came to be
Inspiration later drew forth
footle,broken monoku &emagi
&for a while
short imagist was my style.
Sequenced longer poems metamorphose
within this chrysallis
changing into ekphrasis.
Then Open,and organic free to be,
as you see,unstructured poetry.
With cadence and pause,
others began to hear my voice,
youtube became this poet’s choice.
What intimacy is its cause,perhaps
an immaculate conception of words;
too swift to comprehend,see or
recognise.
The moment is there
and then is not.Gone with the wind
the seed of inspiration
self-transcending a word into a phrase,
a sentence to a strophe;a rhyme
rides a waterfall
into a chasm of verse. Terse or
long, the sonnet becomes a verse
MIRRORS
gently arranged
in
turning points
extravagant
arrays
of
tapestry
in
sumptious
similarity
tangles
of
feelings
in
metaphorical
fantasies
of thoughts
perception
in abundant
allusion
eccentric
spectacle
of unstructured
chaos
in
spontaneous
symmetry
What is that central pole
does it hold up a voice like a brazen spine?
And the many rooms
all of them built to be seen
with no modesty nor privacy.
Rooms where the talking clacks
never pausing, never harkening.
There are mouths
in the air free-floating.
This artless architecture, does it say itself
as a poem does?
Or does it clatter and broadcast its presence
turning, revolving as a display will.
There are holes in this unstructured edifice,
holes where mice
go to eat their own bones.
Look! It is a brain, it is calcified
a rabid ego haunts it.
Can it be covered up, subdued, made to speak
only when spoken to?
Or is it a robotic manikin that will drive your being
while you sleepwalk
through its hollow domain?
My gait spasmodic
I staggered drunkenly
My inner voice a thousand tongues
Of crazed cacophony
In mumbling incoherence
My muddled mind benumbed
I sought the words I fumbled for
As if I were struck dumb
But sentence was unstructured
And thought was compromised
Were I to even form a word
Complexity – be mine
The Thought took hold – though –
In shape – and form – and slowly
I expressed in words
What only wise men know –
"Heat Wave"
A new dawn fades
as the sun overtakes
the division in joy
the top layer
shiny and new
still and blue
calm and observing
underneath
the cover of morning
the firmament dissipates
like phoenix burning
sensual pleasures
sharp grooved
igniting loose ties
sacrificing cool
language dripping
like molten honey
over a body
a real piece
of work crucified
a deep story
just short of
6ft high
gone all
unstructured
and supine
dark Night
tightly holding court
with Excalibur
held high
like an offering
to Blue Sky
melting in a heatwave
renaissance rising
oceans turning
rolling rapture
the blood and water
eye for eye still scoring
not feathered
and tarred,
the never dead
very much alive
witness the walking
on watery nets
always close, never far
as in a mirror
the bright
and shining
Morning Star
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
duality.
AUDIO: Danse Macabre by Busy Strings.
Lint's Aura
Dignity gliding,
Resplendent in red was I,
Generous eyes felt,
Occurrences display me,
Stellar launched my existence.
Wardrobe visit hung,
Collection of new threads fills,
Close-knit paradigm,
Fussy fingers orbit me,
Small room phases a small box.
Reduced unstructured,
Yond pilfered vigor stills I,
Tattered wisps attend,
Cleavage currents my image,
Flew with the best ere sole flight.
2022 June 03
*7th Place*
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 June 06
*HMS: 5,7,5,7,7 syllables per x 3 stanzas
*Image of The Pianist Adrien Brody by DW.
IHMO Wladyslaw Szpilman
(December 5, 1911, to July 6, 2000)
A big blast, shattered glass, they yell run, still all as one
the war nobody knew then, had gone far and to what end
loss of faith, life's undone, a hopeless wraith, left living stun
no job, no help, left homeless, lives split, pianist, nameless
hideout hit or miss trend, tied up in knots, easily frightened
friends captured or run, less fighting, more fleeing begun
both heart's rent, Wladek knew Capt'n too proud to amend.
2021 July 05
e.g., Julyme
RhymeScheme; abacbab
Unstructured Lines
Words emerging from your quill,
Blazing with effulgence,
Capering and crooning around,
In harmony or in dissonance.
Rhyming in a golden cage,
Flying around in splendid colors,
Or, in a greenish meadow,
Flying away in divine freedom.
The beads of words will last long,
In our minds, if threaded strong
Whether structured or unstructured
As I know, I’m your spectator.
Honorable Mention in STRAND no 650 any form any theme Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
Gravity
Gravity pulls
Gravity pulls me
Gravity pulls me to the Darkside
Like the candle wicks of an unlit light
Forcing me to untangle this twisted mass
Of unstructured and torchered souls and spirits from hell
Forcing me to untangle this twisted mass
Like the candle wicks of an unlit light
Gravity pulls me to the Darkside
Gravity pulls me
Gravity pulls
Gravity
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