They police the cloth,
the music, the ride,
measuring freedom
by inches of fabric
and silence of streets.
But ideas slip past checkpoints,
songs travel without permits,
and youth dreams louder
than any decree.
For no rule can chain
the restless rhythm of people
who know that tomorrow
must be wider than yesterday.
And freedom, like wind,
cannot be banned.
Summer Breeze Hiku 33
a s -t -r -o -n -g summer breeze
warm air w ~h i ~s ~t ~l ~e ~s through the trees~
nature`s s p r i g h t l y sigh.
Appliances today
replete with whistles and bells
The only problem is ~
they don’t work so well
bells
loud, silvery
announcing, resounding, warning
chime, tintinnabulation, referee, shriek
piercing, summoning, whirring
shrill, tiny
whistles
Date created: 07/03/2022
Jingle jangle went her wrists,
jangle jingle rang the rings that swung from bell-roped ears.
Unless she shook like a tambourine, she could hardly be seen.
When in motion Bodhrán drums and pursed wind-blown pipes
marched upright, legs as stiff as Irish dancers.
Maybe fairies danced in her eyes, or maybe drunken dodgem cars?
Something was turning and bumping,
something was walking and talking, jangling, and jingling
upon a nervy trampoline of being.
Though fascinatingly thrumming with the sonics
of a madcap Calle band she failed to transmit, nor fit,
as if she had shaken free of the crowd to be this
jiggling skeleton key seeking any keyhole of attention.
in recliner on sandy beach he went to sleep,
his faithful wife, sat by his side, began to weep,
all that money wasted on such a lazy cause,
his snoring whistles like sea waves play without pause!
3rd placement
Written 30/08/21
Milton L Hankins sponsored
Light Verse(2) contest
12 syllables each line
AaBb rhyme
Windy Wilbur wears white wet wooden whistles
weaving without wonderment within woods wisdom
where wily weather whips Windy Wilbur's whimsy
we wait wondering whether Windy Wilbur's whistle works.
We mostly stick with basics
When we make a major buy,
So recommended bells and whistles
Seem to pass us by.
Yet today we took possession
Of our brand-new Subaru
And to get new safety features,
We were forced to upgrade, too.
For the first time, we’ve a moon roof
We can open for some air,
Which I think I will enjoy, although
I didn’t think I’d care.
We have fog lights and a camera
To provide a view behind
And both seat and wiper warmers,
Which in winter I won’t mind.
There are sensors that start beeping
If you drift from here to there
And the visors have extenders
To reduce the threat of glare.
So I wonder if to basics
This will make me bid farewells
For I think I can get used to
All these whistles and these bells!
Dance of the wolf licking wounds touch
looking into her cold lunar face
chanting spirits under a full beam
Pearl fangs showing canine howls outwards
defending rights held for a taste of
Natures promise crowned brave soul beating
underneath a circle of white snow
bouncing echoes take away the air
inside a lonely space howling back
Hope your clouds upon a breath escape
softly one dove lands cushioned gently
catcher within this breathless moment
feathers fly singing to a flower
to warm the bones of darkness away
Night eyes strongly binding steel cuts grey
Forged under the smoke signals burn
warm driven deep breaths exhale outward
Chanting in the land of the brave ghosts
Escaping from out of forever
circling shape shifting winds expose dust
shadows moving voices encircling
mother earth you gather your harvest
strange murmurs from your heart born free love
Distant memories lovingly prowl
under the sky unveils what one fears
destroying everything beautiful
in the end we all weep inside hell
Early morning sunlight dances
Upon Rebeckia
That bright gold flower of summer's
End, jealous Cassiopeia
The flower boxes receive small
amount of rays
Sunlight draws out blossoms white
On the Begonia today
There is a peaceful feeling here
A touch of quiet settles
The crickets enjoy their time
Before morning's kettle
Monday morning August 15, 2016
Winter wind whistles
Bullet holes in window
Flute sings harmony
Wasting time, smoking cigarettes. Cigarettes
All is fine, she's got no regrets. No regrets
Everyone seems to be mad
Dressed to the nines, heart shaped lips, no-one to kiss
Whistles n bells, n' no more than this, more than this
Emptiness sells, blinking lights
Listen, I'm a natural, feel like an animal in a zoo
Next to impossible, almost too beautiful to be true
'til it happens to you
Lately, I've been eating brown leaves, morning star
He's all I need, watching over me, over me
Everyone seems to be mad
Wishin' I knew what the matter was, matter was
You cannot tell what knowing does, knowing does
Whistles n' bells, blinking lights
Maybe I'm an accident, passersby are standing around
One forgotten elephant the circus has long left town
And I'm still around
Listen to the fork-tongued or the sweet song mockingbird
All you want is your fun, come the dawn y'seem so absurd
Hey, have you not heard?
Everyone seems to be mad
Whistles n' bells, blinking lights. Blinking lights
train
whistles
starts running
through the track of
rail
Return...
What return to ways so just..
Know your ways eating nuts.
Want my meats and want your rice.'
Evil creams are nothing ice.
Laws can kept the tyrants bills.
All ab IRATO ill.
Wrong decision come as dirt.
Try my bribe as taking gift..
Keep the forms as turning wheels.
Turn you down are needy worlds.
Shake my ways may gods that well.
.
Shoulder wheel is judo says.
Just return to mates may stay.
Shoulder boards are coming soon.
Insult are not to take with wounds.
What returns feed and trim.
Chang our ways are words as rains.
AM Whistles
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
3 AM WHISTLES
The whistle blows in the distance
Clear rhythmic motions of the night
Sleepy, groggy ready for rest yet
My brain races
Listening to the ever present clatter of the
Train in intervals calm my mind
Laying here with mild and comforting
Breezes enveloping me
It is the sound of the 3 am locomotive
That lull’s me into a restless dream state
Adventures await my dreams tonight
Filled with nocturnal surprises
Spring nights in the city can sometimes
Be still bringing the sense of nostalgia
To mind flooding me with memories
Of childhood and peace at least in
This uneasy nomadic night
By : Debbie Kelly
5/8/2013
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