Author: Rhymesalot

Sally Rand’s Flight

~*~
In a constant state of pre-incarnation,
an old soul preps for the next incarnation.
They’ll reconstitute a Renaissance anew,
options limitless though choices are few.

They’re birthed to body without a direction.
Life’s lived unknown but for premonition.
No purpose made clear as to why we are here.
Yet these old souls sense what’s really there.

For reasons unknown and beyond speculation,
the old souls know of their next reincarnation.
And Sally like others still live on today,
ever changing the world in their own small way.

~

sck071917

Erasing Racings

~
We seek to seek a clue
for paths straight and true
where the angle we pursue
is our own point of view.

Degrees unchanged are unseen.
Answers lurk in space between.
All turns return to the mean.
Golden suns and blue sky green.

But the wind never bends.
A loner never lends.
Always best is time with friends.
And the unsummed heart someday mends.

~
sck071517

Naked and Alone

.
Beginnings and ends, naked and alone,
all’s to know then to atone.
Little wings in an Age of Aquarius,
forever is a question if forever curious.

Or never ask and never know –
which direction you should go.
Up or down or in-between-
or never go then never seen.

And never seen is never known –
never known naked and alone.

.
sck071317 / MAOA

Backasswords

.
Rejection’s heard and intention reversed,
when words said are “let’s be friends first”.
Regarding romance this theory’s wrong,
friendship follows and it won’t take long.

First there’s attraction with a little spark.
Nervous words follow, seemingly a lark.
Calmness soon settles then desires grow.
You talk for hours with so much more to know.

Feelings grow deeper and emotions run high,
Trust is unquestioned and your head’s in the sky.
Times had together much the same as friends,
until a kiss goodnight when your blissful day ends.

Does anyone ask for less and then expect more?
Why should romance be any less sure?
Isn’t an honest start more likely to last long?
Or start at the end, what could go wrong?

.
sck071217

Morning Triku # Maybe the Last or 154

Going, Going, Gone

~
Poetic Visions

A poet can see
the past, present and future.
Then write all the wrongs.

~
Forever Green

In time we all green,
some blossom, others jaded.
Most just get moldy.

~
Pocket Full of Poesy

We’re going to hell
in a hand-basket held by
a deplorable!

~*~
sck070617

Real Imagined

~*~

Ships a pair moors by night.
Each’s a vision of the others light.
Tides are changing for me and you.
To time’s beyond when waves are few.

We each of passion, both pursuing free.
Findings shared, shared passionately.
An end to this poem, I have none or care.
For a future imagined is not really there.

~

sck062917

Second Hand Slap

.
All first’s happen one time.
Seconds echo a chosen chime.
Good or bad, meant or meant not to be,
tick we must pain’s always free.

Mistakes made and signal’s crossed.
Paths fork and feelings tossed.
Years pass and pressure mounts.
Seconds loom and the hand counts.

Clocked anew, wound with care.
Wrapping remains, none’s to share.
Tower’s built and time slips away.
A distant hand wins the day.

Habitual motions come around.
The passersby haunt and hound.
Dictated emotions can’t run away.
Spindled and bound forever and a day.

Controlled by movement, most unseen.
Shattered glass cuts unclean.
Time’s told to all who listens.
Killing seconds the first hand glistens.

.
sck061617

 Striking Similarities

~
Cycling around dimensions, three.
Horizons bend to curve all we see.
Energy’s absorbed when given free.

Settled comforts to some fond.
Or near to crest on rippling pond.
Projecting forward, life’s beyond.

OR’s’ of age when all is time,
passion drives a life sublime,
treading secure or await the chime.

Choose chosen when choices few.
Three’s what’s given, the rest up to you.

~*~
sck060917