There is a hyphen waiting for my end,
To close that form engendered by my birth;
That year that shall its long imbalance mend,
And mark the measure of a life on Earth.
One may take pity for that broken bar,
Well-grounded left, but rightward hanging bare;
An absent fact a symmetry doth mar;
But it has patience, time shall make it fair.
O, such a little thing it is to see!
Two numbers with a hyphen are too dull;
But think, before you pass, that there go we,
And once, within that hyphen, dwelt a soul.
I saw a shooting star the other day
It made me think of things to say
It made me think of how the sky is gray
How life is so complex in a major way
How the moon in the sky shines at night
How the sun's rays beam with the perfect light
How we sit back and gaze at the sky above
How we give the Earth so much love
How we are stabilized and so well-grounded
How the frequency waves are so astounding
How the clouds move through the sky with motion
How the rain comes down in large portions
How the ground gets wet and the moisture starts to form
How it goes back into heaven where life is born
So now I'm sitting here writing this poem
Because I saw a shooting star from my bedroom
Just, stand tall, do not bend,
quietly lean and sway.
Morals are in your heart,
to guide you … every day.
Just stand there like a tree,
when feeling leafless bare.
The structure of your roots,
well grounded … in God’s care.
Just stand up, just stand there,
silhouetted against the sky.
Not your strength, stay standing,
on God’s strength … please rely.
Just stand son, simply stand,
beside you someone’s there.
When alone remember,
I left you in … God’s care.
To Ohm it may concern,
Please volt in the upcoming electrons. Currently Watts is sparking some interest by generating some positive juice, while Joules is using most of her energy in a negative campaign. Watts is loved by his amperes and has the capacitor to charge the crowd, while Joules is well grounded with good continuity in this electron cycle. Yet, Watts is looking for a surge in the poles by quote, “This is a make or breaker year.” Is he intimating that Joules has transformed the field by coaxing his constituents in DC? Tune in to one of the cable shows to help shine the light on that subject. Nevertheless, though we have a heavy load to bear, these electrons always come down to the wire. Shocking!
Sincerely,
Lumen Hertz
P.S. Please relay this current information to illuminate your neutral friends down at the busbar in order to prevent an impulse volt. And sorry for any shameless plugs.
There's an oasis of calm within you,
That stress cannot erase.
It shows in the way you cope with things,
Though not always on your face;
But you have faith well grounded,
Deep within your core.
This faith will boost the hope in you,
To help your spirit soar;
And if by chance the storm grows fierce,
And winds and waves are high,
Your faith will see you through the storm,
And hope will lift you high,
High above the highest waves,
Because your faith holds true,
Sustaining strength that's always there,
Because it's part of you.
Hang onto faith your whole life through,
And it's unfailing force.
It's stalwart strength will strengthen you,
And help you hold your course.
Most games are well-grounded,
To earthen goals they can defeat.
While few rise above the horizon,
With constant volleys they can repeat.
The game elevates to new heights,
Gracefully reaching above it all.
As angelic figures fly beyond,
Earthbound shackles that seem small.
Although clear boundaries guide play,
There's no limit from what divides.
The mortal effort to touch the heavens,
Where the ethereal collides.
Seeing art as a pool
To wash and hide faults within
Is a shallow thought weak hearts shin
See ink a love sharing art tool
The quill of which soar us higher
Reaching for the stars in the sky
And peace we tread upon is the pliers
Tightening honor of the moon on high
I have given all to poetry
In every spheres and not momentary
Consistently, I've learned a lot-
The fuels of ego firing my shots
All kisses and fun that breathe in inks
Gaze at how hearts' illness blinks
Connecting many and more links
Which hunt one another's winks
Make sure the food of thoughts
Shared reflect your being, truly
Nothing should stop what you fought
Making it well grounded duly
For more and all you are to do
Focus and don't mind been you
Closed open
Open.closed
Eyes at rest
Soft Wind blows
Warm sun glare beens
It's bright it seems
I must open. My eyes
I won't relive these memories
There is no abracadabra time
To bring this all home
I must stay well grounded
I'm required to set the tone
Amindful minute can pass in a blink
Just a reminder
Enjoy life it moves quicker than you think
Aloha, Connie Marcum Wong
A fellow islander, here in the State of Hawaii
Plain common folks in touch with its aina (land)
Noticed by many soupers long before this tadpole swam the pond
Well-grounded, skilled with a pen, with a memorable persona,
In my view, I became a welcomed homey, charmingly receptive, in a comfortable regular confab of subject subtleties to filling, reflections of a lifetime,
From our friends to our families to our Hawaii ~~
...of a gorgeous floral lei, imagined or realized
...both pales in comparison
...Aloha always
...my blessings,
...Connie
2019 September 20
*2nd Place*
Pick a Friend on Soup
~~Bobby May
We start life well grounded
like all great kelp families
attached to shell or bedrock, growing,
reaching for sunlight above the sea
all summer season long
I am battered about
colliding, pushed to and fro
waves and tide shape my destiny
at my rock-bound toes
purple anemones freely munch
trying to break me free
I feel every twinge, every crunch
my golden leaves frail about
stirring the salty blue sea
garibaldi and sea bass eat freely
my contributions go without heed
thrashing, crushing waves
swirling us all together
we cling to each other
our solidarity brings protection
then...one final nibble
a rough tumble to shore
beach sand smothers me
ending my life at sea.
well-grounded voice
In a well-grounded voice
I used to explain to you
Why I'm unable to show
What I truly feel.
At that time the trees were tiny
and books were huge.
In a well-grounded voice
which I'm used to playing with
I used to lose myself to the city
I'm so sorry for
because it's not a melting pot yet.
In a well-grounded voice,
looking for an evolution privilege in your eyes,
daring to copy and recover
your thoughts,
daring to rise against you,
drifting in your own words,
but never going too far from the schedule,
I used to watch half of your dreams.
Is this getting global or personal?
I miss who we used to be.
© Maryna Tchianova, 2016
We have been with each other for a number more than three which is quite well grounded for a relationship as ours.
Do we count the years to guarantee us eternity, or rather regard the conscious events that made and make us one?
I beat my brains out every so often whether your intentions remained firm during the whole time you’re with me.
You tend to lose tender attachment in your behavior seemingly devoid of such ardent passion.
Thenceforth as far as this point, this single thought had
been emplaced in my memory that gets in the
way for me to make up my mind.
There are traces of uncertainty seen on the contours
of your face constantly reminding me if I’d totally
immerse my being wholeheartedly into your possession.
Still and all you create patches of affection here
and there causing me to daydream of roseate
tomorrows in addition to occasional pleasures and
endearment, paved a route destined – a road
to infinity.
In a well-grounded voice
I used to explain to you
Why I'm unable to show
What I truly feel.
At that time the trees were tiny
and books were huge.
In a well-grounded voice
which I'm used to playing with
I used to lose myself to the city
I'm so sorry for
because it's not a melting pot yet.
In a well-grounded voice,
looking for an evolution privilege in your eyes,
daring to copy and recover
your thoughts,
daring to rise against you,
drifting in your own words,
but never going too far from the schedule,
I used to watch half of your dreams.
Is this getting global or personal?
I miss who we used to be.
I often wonder how Mary did, what she did at the time she was called
How she kept so well grounded, emotional, and faithful thru it all
Forced into the wild, forced to flee
She knew not of the end, only the beginning
She knew what she had, she knew what was growing
She knew who she was to oversee
Was in dire need of protecting
She knew what she knew
She had trust beyond trust
Her resolve, her standing tall, her need seeing it thru it all
I look at her and cry,
Because at times she probably felt alone
I look at her and sigh,
Because she did so much, all for the throne
Cold, unfed, and probably not blanketed
She had angels
She had a star
She had a whispering knowing
All the while, her crown chakra was still glowing
She loved her little baby
She love him so well
For he grew into a man who treated her so well
He grew into a man, a savor to say the least
Who walked and talked with great veracity
12/20/2017
Gloaming appears in the horizon
Waiting for the onset of hurricane
Flickering candle lights dimness
Fear of unknown rises suddenly
Storm winds in the pitch black night
As a lion roaring in the deep jungle
Stillness of night creatures sounds
Prevailing the fury of the meteor
Calmness reigns again in the tropic
The fallen trees portraits the reality
When the roots are not well grounded
Succumb to the gusts of tropical storms
For In The Dark Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Russell Sivey
September 13, 2017
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