Poetry2ponder's Blog

(Destiny in a drop of sunlight
Breaking through the fear of the night)

War in bricks and the ruins of Rome
Unsettled peace in the boys sent home

Stirring the dust, helicopters shot down
Searching through dust, bloodied bullets are found.

Beautiful dichotomy of enemy and friend,
Twisted idolatry of money, country, and men.

Brothers in arms on both sides of the field,
The killing won’t stop til one side will yield.

Forced rhymes,
Is it a crime?
Time goes by in the blink of an eye.
Forced rhymes,
Is it a crime to create verbal slime?
To slander one’s message with nonsensical banter?
Concentrating on a consonant,
Or fixing on a vexing vowel,
How the words twirl of the tongue!
How they prance of the page, oh how
they elegantly howl and grizzly growl!
To dance without worry,
You’re not in a hurry.
To salsa and tango,
Oh how the time goes!
Forcing rhymes,
Without rhythmic times,
To rhyme without reason or meaning,
To float happily on a word with all of your being,
To rhyme to pass the time,
No, forced rhymes are no crime.

Love, you’ve got a monopoly on my heart,
But, girl, you’ve been trouble from the start.
I’m sorry if I caused you any pain,
But you spun like a twister around my brain.
I risked everything, despite your checkered past.
You sank my battleship, breaking my mast.
The nerf you have — turning my world of love into a world of war,
Crafting an operation to take out my core.
You’re a mastermind who doesn’t take chances,
But you touched my chess and gave me lingering glances.
Still you don’t dare connect,
For you’re afraid, I suspect.

Leftovers of a broken heart,
Chinese takeout in the fridge,
Wine glasses on the table.

And I forgot my jacket at her place.
And I smashed the picture framing her face.

I can’t listen to my favorite songs anymore.
They remind me of a girl who I once adored.

Eating Italian food cuts apart my heart.
This is the end, but I’m thinking of the start.

I remember holding hands and walking across the bridge you didn’t think was stable.
I remember the movie we watched. You said the man reminded you of Clark Gable.

Leftovers of a broken heart,
Her toothbrush in my bathroom,
Her hair in my shower.

Years ago, thought I’d be your groom,
but these dreams did depart,
and misery grows each hour.

This flower never bloomed. Like an errant dart,
spring missed it’s mark, and my sweetness turned sour.

Leftovers of a broken heart,
how did you get your start?
Loves’ memories
Give me heart disease.

There is no more sincerity in today’s serendipity.
There is no more spontaneity on stage.

Severed, separated appendages
Dance for the dame.
On the other side of the flame
Silhouettes doing pirouettes.

Laughing at the jesters joking
With tongues they use for tripping
The fools whose folly festers
Feeding Frankensteins and Uncle Festers.

Dreading disappointing,
Devils disavowing,
Tragedies disallowing,
The creature creates a character.

Stepping over egg shells
Never moving himself
In the mind, there is a path
But in reality, there is no map.

So sullen Sonny sits
Quietly inquisitive
Never daring to declare
Looking away so he won’t care.

Filling the void is the victor villain
Vanquishing shattered shells
Moving to the beat of the bells
The victor villain fulfills himself.

Not concerned with cares inconsequential
His treatment is clearly preferential
And yet this is the liar, who sits beside the fire
Faking his affection frequently for his gain and his protection.
This is the victor villain vanquishing the creature cretin, collaborating with criminals, obscene and profane.
This is the victor villain who claims he has water in a drought, who claims there is refreshment soothing and he is the spout, who claims that there is buried treasure and he is the route.

The victor villain will professionally profess all the most sincere things in jest.
He will connive and convince, contort and distort, surely saying sweet somethings

But this is the lie and the fraud, the prick pretending to be pious, the lover who loves another.

So this is what I mean when I state in my hurried, hateful, hoarse, heckling rant
That sincerity has been stolen from serendipity surreptitiously and as a substitution stands “sincere” one night stands.

Word play.
Play with me.
An easy reverie.

Word play.
Three acts with no plot.
Search for what is not.

Word play.
Laughing and dancing and singing.
Running and climbing and scraping our knees.

World of word play,
Everything in words.
Add an “l” and the world is yours!

Perspective,
Purrspective.
Purr.
Meow.
Roar.
oar,
down a river,
across the ocean,
in a tear,
drop,
falling, floating,
off the face, beautiful, of the earth,
a pebble,
eating cocoa puffs;
puffing up a mountain,
a train,
training for what?
for a miracle?
for existence?
his and her stance.
Architecture of the world,
A pebble making up the beach,
An ancient aisle between island and ocean.
Existence?
Exist tense? No!
Relief.
Colored leaves falling freely,
Branches bending, breaking.
In the warm wind, a breath.
Breathe.
Purr.
Perspective.

A thousand possibilities        but only
A single strand of truth
What is and was is certainty,
What will be (is) left for the sleuth?

Two roads diverged and a third emerged
But the path I will pursue is not paved.

In fact, it is frightening that my function follows no formula.
(For where I will go, fair-weather friends may not follow.)

Finite focus and rational realities, particular peculiarities
Puncture my bubble thoughts of limitless futures and alternate realities.

By design or by luck
We forever are stuck
In the present, a gift we can never quite grasp.

The future confounds and confuses.
Its abundance amuses.
But as a whole, full of holes,
It is a rabbit hole of ruses.

And as the future comes into focus,
We are full of missteps and mistakes,
Expert advancements and lucky breaks.

But presently, we must posit
the future holds no deposit
On our lives in the present.

Rather, the present may be considered payment for the past
And the future can be construed as payment for the last.

Do good.

As simple as it sounds
The phrase is profound.

Though the questions remain for each of us to ponder:
Where did we come from and where will we wander?
Why did we do what we did and what will become of us?
Are we alone in this world or is there a love we can trust?

A simple phrase rings true every day.
Do good! And this phrase will wash your worries away.

Slip, trip, and fall

On the ice, like mice

We scurry about —

Afraid of the cat,

Looking for cheese.

Slip, trip, fall and splat,

As we lunge forward,

We brace for the fall,

Arms out in front

To protect our faces.

We try again and again,

To walk on water,

To make physics bend.

We dream and we drift.

It’s a curse and a gift —

To wonder and wander

About what is near and what is yonder.

Slip, trip, fall, Do it again!

It is the only way to learn, my friend.

When I was younger, people were always leaving me. One man said he didn’t like the color of my skin. Men and women were always complaining about my size. Some said I was too big. Others said I was too small. It really hurt. Another had the nerve to call me shallow. I tried to accept his abuse, but he broke my heart and took all my belongings. In reality, my belongings belonged to my lover, Zed. I had practically nothing of my own when he moved in. I thought Zed was “the one” and I had been with him for five years. He felt so good inside me. We slept together every day and every night. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I had been with him for five years when Jackie – one of his ex-lovers – stole him and his fortune away from me. I thought we were right for each other, but I was left empty and used. I buried my emotions and moved away after that.

That’s life, I guess. I can’t believe I wasted my time with someone who treated me like dirt.  I can’t believe I let Zed into my heart. I trusted him. He seemed like a great listener.  He was so sweet.  He arranged for flowers to come to us once a month and I loved the flowers dearly.  But, then, how could I trust any man to stay with me if the man who I loved was stolen from me after five years? I never trusted anyone after that. I wanted to find my soul mate – someone to love forever and ever. I wondered if I would ever find true love.

Some of my friends told me to be patient, that everyone has someone they’re compatible with. I didn’t want someone who was simply compatible with me. I wanted someone who I could be with forever. I wanted someone who listens, who was not too rich, but could pay for upkeep. I’m not too high maintenance. But I deserve to be treated well. I would get depressed and my depression seemed to rub off on others. Then, they would cry. Then, I would become even more depressed. These episodes seem to happen every day. It was so hard trying to be happy when everyone around me was always crying. Everyone who visited me seemed to leave crying. What did I ever do to them? I just couldn’t understand it.

Why are my neighbors all so popular? I wish I was as cool as them. They have visitors every day. Since their lovers accomplished so much, they’re revered by the public. Everyone speaks to them about how much they adore and respect their work. At the same time, their families are very proud, but they find it too difficult to visit. They know the darker side of these celebrities. It just irks me that these people get all the attention, while I get none.

There is a stone marker at the entrance of one of their houses, letting everyone know where the great actor sleeps. I think that my friend is happy holding him in her embrace. People come to visit him from all over the world. They celebrate his all of his achievements and praise his skills. To them, he is an icon. To my friend, he is her eternal love.

To make matters worse for me, I overheard a few friends say I’m creepy! I don’t think I’m creepy. It’s not like I go stalk people. I just stay at home and hope my friends visit me. I get angry when they don’t visit, but I don’t show it. I just suck it up. How is that creepy? Even if I am a little cold and quiet, or “distant”, that doesn’t give them the right to put me down. And my friends don’t even visit enough.

Despite all the negatives, people used to bring me flowers all the time. This was back when I was with “the one”. I’ve always loved flowers. It’s not as though I am self absorbed. I know I’m not beautiful. In fact, I’m always lying in the grass and the dirt. To many people, that is a turn-off. But, the flowers let me know that, despite my flaws, people really care about what’s “on the inside”.

Today, I’m supposed to meet a woman. Her family has arranged our marriage. As I listened to the family speak with my master to arrange for our meeting, I gained many details about this young angel. She is attractive and young. Supposedly, her family arranged for her to be well endowed. I’m looking forward to sweetly embracing her. It will be the first person I’ve been with since Zed was taken from me. Her name is Elizabeth Dolores. Before she retired, Elizabeth was an actress. She had been a rising star in the entertainment industry, having starred in several independent feature films. However, as she amassed a small fortune and a degree of fame, she began to party more and more. She became addicted to cocaine for a number of years. The addiction had been killing her sleep schedule and she became severely neurotic. Eventually, she realized that cocaine and the lack of sleep was killing her emotionally. She flushed all of her cocaine down the toilet.

Then, a few years later, according to her father, her boyfriend introduced her to heroin. Heroin slowed things down for her, kept her mellow. But, this was taking a toll on her body and her mind. She lived with this scourge for two years. She was in a play and she fell off the stage because she couldn’t keep her balance. She fell six feet. Fortunately, she was never the same after that.  That’s why she ended up retiring early.

Despite all these drug problems, I know that she will be the one to love me forever. She will be the one who I can count on to never leave me. I feel so bad for her, but I will protect her from the cold, dark world. I will keep her safe and clean – free from the scourge of drugs and the emotional stress that comes with them.

I will never let this happen to her again. She is going to be my good luck charm and I will be keep her safe for her family. Her children will visit us and bring us flowers. I’ll tell them that she was the best mother that ever lived – despite her missteps. I won’t tell them of her infidelities or her addictions. No, I will keep her safe for eternity.

I don’t know how many people will visit me after I become her lover. But, I will proclaim to all that she is loved. The words will be written in stone for all those who come to pass to read, as we rest, six feet under. My large frame will shelter her from the cold, wet mud and the worms which surround us.