Are we on the same page
In the big black book of life
What would your words say
Would they cause relief or strife
Are you an onyx optimist heart
With views worn on white sleeve
Rather are you pink pessimistic shark
Waiting to take a bite of cocoa me
Can we grow towards a center
Perhaps merging in our violet view
Could cooperation create splinter
Embedding in thick skin like bad news
What is it about the opal opposites
Do they indigo in the soul attract
Can we build truce with rock and stick
And merge in a communal lime laugh
I admire your passion and dedication
You’ve a right to have such a stance
Join me in a cranberry celebration
Where unique ideas rise and dance
Better suited for waste
than for news
Wise folk tear them up
~ these crepe paper views
You hold blemished lies
I hold and try sharing truths
can't find common ground
I long to be cycling up a mountain pass
A mountain goat on the cliff, a lake like glass
A foaming river on my left, cascading down the height
Indian paintbrush in a meadow, snowy peaks on my right.
And I couldn’t go wrong
If I had Dad along
The way he used to be
Explaining the landforms to me.
Mother and brothers would pedal too
We’d crest the pass to a panoramic view
of mountains and valleys and a wide blue ocean
Elegant towns, freight trains in motion.
Once the road was narrow, but the future was wide
Every pass a stepping stone, every mile sanctified
We ventured without thinking what it cost or meant
Some stops to regroup, but hope fueled our ascent.
I long to be cycling up that mountain pass
But freedom like that now lives in the past
Can’t do it anymore—so many restraints
Maybe in an afterlife we’ll ride with the saints.
Back to the mountain, just a metaphor
We go our own ways, life closes the door.
If you take the wrong path, hard to get on track.
Can't tell the clock to turn itself back.
Some people’s lives roll easy
They never care to know
It comes naturally like breathing
The days just come and go
Most people’s lives meet issues
Too large to solve them nicely
They reconsider their views
Drink too much wine unwisely
But I have no advice to share
Sitting here with a silly grin
I imagine my love is still there
Where she has always been
This has nothing to do with reality
But imagination’s a friend
It cares a bit of my sanity
In a way I find funny and sad
Some people’s lives flow easy
There aren’t too many of those
Born wealthy, they weren’t too busy
Hence not to their credit it goes
It’s a gift of fate, I believe
You are given a life to spend
And the time and a place you receive
Are most possibly, heaven-sent
Views evolve, revolve
devolve… dissolve
Values stay put
~ require resolve
. behind hern cross
lie
hern wanton
wander
wonder
wish
top
iz
mine
me
listen'n intently
for thuh
umph
shnap
Since 2020 came to be..its rare i'll tune to
That corperation, hear me..I'll only go there ( to see what lies? they are spreading?) Scuttlebutt, common rumous
Such like.' They'll always mention, I think they're the dregs of the
Drainstream crowd.? Intent on misinforming..In.? Well in making making listeners; cowed.'
Honeyed un-truths their daily staple,
I am much more selective, i search for
Outfits more capable.' Redacted and Vobes, Kris Brooks to..Annas home cooking, all treat me better, thank you.)
Readers like attractive title that greatly related to your write.
I can't bring myself
to read the front page news
with which they string us along
as portrayed by the views
of those with a vested interest
or the rest with an axe to grind
who must think we're all
just deaf dumb and blind
to the truth of which there's more
in the speech balloons
of the funny characters
in the Sunday cartoons
they're merely a means of selling
ink-stained pulp derived from wood
it's all a waste of paper
other than those comic strips
and really only good
for wrapping fish and chips
I have never tasted your full lips,
which lack a moisturizing tip.
Yet, I somehow feel as if I have.
I watched you break that fresh loaf of bread, and you said to me,
“You are welcome.”
Somehow, I could have tasted
and smelled the freshness of that small piece you offered.
I felt nourished.
Your spearing eyes, your youthful appearances
A love like ours will be forever,
My soul is in Accra.
I have not looked for a while.? Yet its out there...
Somewhere.? I must find time..Before it fades
Thats time i mean.' Elusive to catch despite all
Our wiles.'
J-oyful
O-utlook
H-elps
N-urture.
©bfa041725
Monocrostic (Birthday of John Montemayor)
2025.3.24
Sixty five days ago, on a sunny Saturday,
I came here with some body.
It was supposed to be our first time,
But it turned out to be the last too.
Time flies fast as it passed you.
At the end of the trip, he suggested,
We both wrote a poem each,
It was not to compete,
Just to express one own feeling.
I came here so many times,
Now, I have completely lost of count.
But after this particular trip,
What I loved most was the photo,
He took on the day,
And printed the poem which I composed on the day.
I received it as a pleasant surprise,
I felt such an honour by his gesture.
A kind and sweet memory for me to keep and remember,
To mark once we were friends.
However, it was ashamed,
We travelled on but separate way since then.
I continued my daily journey,
I was happy to do it with or without company.
Here I am at Phillip Island again.
To enjoy my day walking on the sand,
Along side the water washing up the beach.
There will be another day another trip,
But never have the same friendship.
The moonlight lights the corners of a cloud!
And thus enflames that thin, celestial shroud!
What words have we, to match the heavens proud?
O, savage is this sickly sight!
This sordid scene upon the night!
Whereby a cloud, with all its might,
Doth strive with rows of teeth to bite
The ankle off the moon.
The scene the same, yet here my tune.
O, moody moon of my desire,
I think thy presence draws me higher!
Thy veil across thy lovely face
Doth lift my heart, and make it race!
Thy beauty bound in mystery,
I strain my eyes to better see.
I do not strain my eyes to see!
I drink and visions come to me.
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