Word’s a mere generic symbology,
a blip in time of human technology.
Millennia unfolds, meaning’s to learn.
Linguistically labored is the futures concern.
Truth is felt, lies always lurking.
Voices still spirits working.
Sensation’s sensed and souls embrace.
Or silence awaits this human race.
~*~
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I need a bigger clock,
my watch seems to lie.
The spaces are too small,
and the hands seem to fly.
~
I need to see where time goes.
I can’t believe it’s me.
I only scroll a little.
And only when time’s free.
~
But that little watch keeps lying.
It tells me hours have flown past.
The stupid phone agrees.
I think the problems vast.
~
It must be a conspiracy,
drawing people to their laps.
Our future’s passing by,
and we’re now hunched like saps.
~
I’m going to go cold turkey.
When I’m done, we’ll share a toast.
But that I’ll start tomorrow.
Today I need to post.
~*~
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Mornings give light.
Emotion fills night.
Eyes force sight.
Legs flee plight.
.
Opinions oft slight.
Truth’s never quite.
Souls know right.
Minds will fight.
.
Hearts feel blight.
Tomorrows bring fright.
Yesterday lends insight.
Fortitude means might.
.
Sparks do ignite.
Love shines bright.
Hands do write.
Life’s to delight.
~*~
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I’m sorry I have no poem today.
I’ve actually started two.
But I have no endings.
So I’ve nothing to share with you.
~
Fortunately there are tomorrows.
Perhaps I’ll end them then.
Or maybe this is a metaphor;
for the fickleness of the pen.
~
Many things get started.
Only some will see an end.
But until there’s a conclusion,
a finish, we can pretend.
~
So I’ll pretend my poems are great.
They start off really well.
And I’ll imagine it’s a perfect day.
For the unknown we shouldn’t dwell.
~*~
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With these strings, I thee bled,
fingers raw and eyes red.
Sounds of the day fill my head.
Emotion speaks with words unsaid.
~
With six strings I am fed.
Good vibration is my med.
Tension’s tuned and compression shed.
Harmony pledged. To honor bred.
~
With my strings I have wed.
Our ties bound by common thread.
Sweet melodies or what’s instead?
I’ll have and hold till I’m dead.
~*~
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His name was Gurmumble,
or so it was said.
Gurmumble’s the sound,
comes out of his head.
~
Ask him a question,
anything you choose.
Gurmumble, he’d answer,
looking down at his shoes.
~
Gurmumble was teased,
folks called him a freak.
But he’s actually, quite normal,
he just couldn’t speak.
~
High School was soon starting,
Gurmumble was rightly scared.
The building was enormous,
much bigger than he feared.
~
His first week was horrible,
he’s a target to be teased.
Gurmumble was unfazed,
the bullies left displeased.
~
Come fall his novelty waned,
Gurmumble was now free.
Excelling at his studies,
he had a learning spree.
~
By Spring Gurmumble’s smitten,
but he couldn’t say a word.
So, he wrote his crush a poem,
the prettiest she’d ever heard.
~
He wrote her a poem each day,
awaiting her response.
And when she finally smiled,
it was Gurmumble’s Renaissance.
~
All the girls were swooning;
the boys were just confused.
Gurmumble’s now a star,
no longer feeling abused.
~
His poems now sung as songs,
Gurmumble plays guitar.
His loving girlfriend sings,
I’m sure they’re going far.
~*~
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~
I built a playhouse, just for me.
I worked all morning, come and see.
It’s now just finished, just today.
So come on over and we’ll play.
*
My house has windows and a door.
It’ll fit bunches of kids and more.
We’ll plant a garden on the side.
Bush in the back for us to hide.
*
There’s a place for table and chairs.
To color books, build things with gears.
There’s little stairs to go up high.
Peek out the window touch the sky.
*
Cook in the kitchen, clean when done.
The rest of the day we’ll have fun.
Can’t leave crumbs for a pesky mouse.
Then it’ll be the mouse’s playhouse.
*
My house can be a boat with sail.
Or castle in a fairy tale.
A haunted house that is a scare.
Or just a place for friends to share.
*
If you don’t have your own “me space”.
You can make one, just pick a place.
Surround with imagination.
Then fill it up with friends and fun.
*
The End
~
sck091814
Waking to your eyes, your lips I can’t ignore.
We hold each other tightly, our love we can be sure.
Inspired with excitement of making love with you,
our passionate embraces are all I wish to do.
~
Our climax is explosive, a rest then we’ll take.
We’ll whisper, laugh and caress till again love we’ll make.
Bodies now exhausted, our minds still on high,
we’ll float downstairs together to greet the morning sky.
~
Coffee then is shared and we’ll plan our busy day.
Our thoughts are always sunny even when it’s gray.
Hands we’ll hold on our walk, the future now in view.
Bliss we’ll share every day, together; me and you.
~*~
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I sat to write a love poem,
but fiction got in the way.
My heart now is still,
alone another day.
~
Maybe eyes will meet,
there’s smiles shining bright.
Perhaps our hands will touch,
and lead us into the night.
~
Our spirits ever closer,
warming our moonlit stroll.
Our lips free to explore,
the pleasures of our soul.
~
Whispers echo softly,
our bodies intertwine.
I am hers completely,
she’s completely mine.
~
The morning sun will rise,
again eyes will meet.
Our hands again will touch,
a new day we will greet.
~
Our love will last a lifetime,
together we’ll always be.
I’ll write a million love poems,
but for now just fictionality.
~*~
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Through willow filtered sunshine,
I feel your reflections and you mine.
With introversion my biggest fear,
with hidden face my love I declare.
~
In glistening pools of gentle light,
my heart waves to the mind’s fright.
If lives written our columns divide,
moments unmirrored to cast aside.
~
Hands ever closer the time does drift,
the moon creates our daily shift.
In the dark our eyes meet,
together enlightened tomorrows we’ll greet.
~*~
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I started the day the usual way.
My feet hit the floor then out the door.
The sun’s yet high in the new sky.
But on the street I feel the heat.
The sweat begins to drip.
~
I get to work and feel like a jerk.
I forgot to do my do.
So I combed my hair in despair.
Then I booted up and spilled my cup.
The coffee made a big mess.
~
My notes now are gone and I left forlorn.
My haste has caused this waste.
I must slow down or I will drown.
This fast lane is causing me pain.
The phone then starts to ring.
~
It’s another complainer for I the explainer.
I was chilled to the bone by their ruthless tone.
I slammed down the phone but wasn’t alone.
The boss could hear standing so near.
This job, for me, was now done.
~
Hurt was I, I wanted to cry.
I went home to bed and wished I were dead.
I started to dream then woke to a scream.
A poke from my wife saved my life.
My eyes open to start again.
~
A nightmare was had, one very bad.
Its cause being stress is my best guess.
A lesson thought comes before taught.
My sweetie made tea for her and me.
A new dream’s begun and I called out sick.
~*~
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I have a best friend, name’s Bunny,
whose age is just the same as me.
Sits on my bed, friends all around,
snuggling close we’re all safe and sound
*
We all giggle, think it’s funny,
when I tickle Bunny’s tummy.
Though sometimes sad, trickling tears,
they’re easily dried with fuzzy ears.
*
I get big, Bunny stays the same,
destined for greatness and world fame.
Written about in poetry,
posed for art and photography.
*
With brush in hand with which to paint,
She’s very patient, no complaint.
Anytime, rainy or sunny,
always there my best friend Bunny.
*
By my side always, journeys far.
My companion; plane, train or car,
sharing adventures in daylight,
sharing our dreams every night.
*
The End
Sck0814
Pontifications’ the place to be.
Grand thinkin’s the life for me.
Imagination’s so far and wide.
Keep AI and just let me decide.
~
Old tech is where I’d rather stay.
I get allergies blindly trusting all day.
I just adore my dual screen view.
PC’s I love you but keep that dark avenue.
~*~
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A story’s brewing; it’s felt in my heart.
Yet I’ve to find the end, middle or start.
I think it’s close but it could be far.
The damage done and left a scar.
~
The image is blurry and makes no sense.
I’m hangin’ out with a guy named Pence.
We’re trapped in a cell with fancy drapes.
There are no cigarettes but everyone vapes.
~
Our lofty guard is seven feet tall.
He brings us bread and that is all.
P’s is white and mine is wheat.
But we don’t mind, it’s something to eat.
~
P tells stories of his glorious time.
I write fast and make it all rhyme.
He worked for a king, second in charge.
His duties were light but his paycheck large.
~
The lights go out at ten o’clock.
The guards go home and we all rock.
Music starts jammin’ in a cell nearby.
The place gets smoky and we all get high.
~
Our eyes grow heavy then we all dream.
We awake at sunrise to coffee with cream.
The king too presides in a cell downstairs.
It’s dark and damp but no one cares.
~
The king has a wife he no longer sees.
She crawled off to Russia on her hands and knees.
Though his kids live here, their just down the hall.
They all got snatched while attending a ball.
~
Now tuxedo’s in tatters and gown’s a mess,
the truth was clear, no need to confess.
So maybe this story’s no story at all.
It may be a nightmare, I can’t recall.
~
Though being in jail I wasn’t keen.
But comfort is felt when the future’s seen.
I did get released, no word of the rest.
And all ends well, their silence being best.
~
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Plans have been made
and the weekend’s here.
An adventure will be had
but apart from my dear.
~
I’ll think of her while driving
and call at every chance.
I’ll dream of her when sleeping,
cuddled in romance.
~
I’ll spend my time distracted,
longing to return.
I’ll share my day with loved ones
but not the one I yearn.
~
Whilst my head will follow
wherever I may roam,
my heart will always be
at our happy home.
~*~
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Lifelong habits surely die hard;
new routines are an old canard.
But time for now is all my own,
a new sensation since I’ve grown.
~
I’m gonna ride my bike and stay up late.
I’ll play my guitar until I’m great.
Ice cream for lunch at four o’clock.
Then feed some gulls at the dock.
~
With walks to the hill for sublime sunsets,
life will be as good as it gets.
Plans for the future now fill my head.
But all that’s tomorrow, it’s time for bed.
~*~
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There once was a man from Rhode Island.
Who liked wiggling his toes in the sand.
Though it just a few times a year,
cos he held his toes quite dear.
And freezing them off he couldn’t stand.
~
With miles of beach,
they’re only seasonally in reach.
But walks when not freezing,
they’re still always pleasing.
And you don’t burn the peach.
~
Genes you see have crossed the sea,
his mom as Irish as she can be.
They being that pale as well.
Their summers a living hell.
I guess even good luck’s not free.
~*~
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Happy St. Patrick’s Month!
With the summer comes the fall.
With the heat the colors call.
With a breeze the leaves afloat,
it’s the season, a chill we’ll note.
~
Autumn passes to winters white.
With the snow comes a longer night.
With the darkness time will slow.
With our dreams sunshine will glow.
~
Spring is born to bursting hues.
A rebirth’s given for paying dues.
With this life we’re nature drawn.
With a vision this world we’ll fawn.
~
With a blink the green consumes.
Our bodies warm, our thought blooms.
Days awaken to skies of blue.
With the sunset comes dawn anew.
~*~
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I’m starting to feel better, not there yet.
Answers I need but questions I get.
Who am I and what’s next?
Right now I’m tired, cranky and perplexed.
~
The day’s new, the sun’s yet to rise.
Doubts abound but no surprise.
Time has dealt an iffy hand.
Do I fold or do I stand?
~
Decks stacked with shuffled years,
never straight, too few pairs.
Confusion reigns and I’m the king.
Does a queen await, will we sing?
~
Love’s been felt and then lost.
Betting hearts has a cost.
There’ll be no diamonds anytime soon.
Spades have dug, my mind’s strewn.
~
Life’s no game and love’s no joke.
The clubs have beaten, my bank’s broke.
But play I must every day.
While aces I wait to come my way.
~*~
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Dreams end when not we wake.
Dreams end when failure we take.
Life’s an adventure every day.
Good or bad we’re here to stay.
~
Our paths may wind, climb or fall.
With an open mind we experience all.
Eyes perceive and our hearts feel.
The truth can hurt but always real.
~
Lies deceive and time does tell.
Actions decide our place in hell.
Greatness comes when we stand above.
And dreams live-on when we rise to love.
~*~
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Circumstances change and change again.
So I’m not really sure how this poem’s to end.
What is real is unknown till done,
but time imagined has already begun.
~
The stars shine bright until the dawn.
The future awaits and then it’s gone.
Thoughts and visions obscure the truth;
a lack of years isn’t youth.
~
Recollections and experience color our days.
Points of view shade our ways.
Life’s the sonnet never ending,
verses abound, conclusions ever-pending.
~
If to see music and feel hues,
you’re gonna pay your f’n dues.
Reality’s then plain to see,
for the muse love’s too easy.
~
A note received punctuation’s unknown,
another twist with a faceless tone.
But all the words used then rearranged again.
And this too will be rewritten because there is no end.
~*~
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I ain’t never wrote a blues song
Don’ think it sound too good
But my baby did just leave me
And not the way she should
~
Our spring blossomed bright
Our summer was hot
But with those dyin’ leaves
I was forgot
~
I was tossed to the curb
like yesterday’s waste
Now just her memory
I’m forever to taste
~
Love was shared in our hearts
A future’s gone before a start
My baby just left me
And not the way she should
~
I didn’t get call
there was no little fight
I got shot a quick text
on a Tuesday night
~
Her “baggage too great”
to groove with me
Just a couple of words
and that’s all I’d see
~
That’s how she left me
Not the way she should
Cos these blues I’m now feelin’
sure ain’t soundin’ good
~*~
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