The weight
He had written two short books
needed to show her his work,
Not now, she said, I’m watching TV
Around the beam that keeps the heaven’s roof from falling,
He slung a rope fastened to a scrap iron drum using
Himself as a counterweight.
He hoisted the drum up, but he was too heavy
He carried too much weight of pride.
He cried in the night, struggled to get rid of unwanted feelings
The drum becomes lighter and descends until
He was lifted to the top of the beam, feeling free
Of false pride and ambition.
Why did you cry so much in the night? they asked
He smiled and was at ease with himself and didn’t answer.
The Knight was knit on a knockout night.
A batch of bare bears within blissful sight.
Right rowed rode on rigorous royal insight.
Whither or wither, writ warned of a worn write.
Douse the drip and dowse to drum up dew.
Alas allowed the altar rite to alter aloud knew.
Wax warmer upon waves of aqua blue.
Caught in the caudle caudal circuit of one or two.
Halting hair like an idol, idle as a hush hare.
Hearsay's hollows handle heinous and flare.
Can a sane person seine in a water glare?
I fear that a note knob rejects the nob affair.
Leaches of joy leech open or open-free.
I will not feign the fane's favor as a feint fee.
Dazes detained the deal to droop a drupe as a flea.
If a blast blows a blue home, it finds a way to flee.
Written: October 09, 2022
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hat Bueckert
As the space we share together-
Becomes untethered.
I shall take the scars of kindness with me.
Even as my blood goes missing.
And all that will be left are my clanking bones.
Which I will use to drum up a song that is like clouds turned to stone.
I shall smile as I wait for the loss.
While I am waiting for the stars to tell me that complete is the cost.
I shall allow myself to continue with my tears.
Your lack of presence is no longer one of my fears.
It is me that is banished.
And it is you that has vanished.
I will not perish with you by my side.
But together we will share the last glimmering of hope’s tide!
I can be serious
furtive, mysterious
Or sunny funny playful
as I pen a whole sleigh-full
Spin long narrative yarns
of lovers in each other's arms
Adorations to celestial beauty
of skies' myriad charms
I can write a song
cut it short, extend it long
Or swiftly drum up a dance
Create a gypsy in a trance
Compose a 'Bravo!' to a friend
Or eulogize life's other end
Plumb the depths of hearts and minds
Treasures of words, uniquely mine...
I don't want to spread bad news,
So I can't say who told me,
But So And So was seen downtown,
In most unsavory comp'ny.
It seems a shame that she can't see,
Her actions tell her story,
But you know me, I don't tote tales,
I just can't help but worry.
You should have seen her carry on,
Or so I'm told, of course.
I can't say for sure myself,
And can't reveal my source;
For that might cause them untold shame,
And throw bad light on me.
I wouldn't want the town to think,
That I'd drum up such folly.
But mark my word, sure as I'm born,
That girl will rue the day,
That she set out and marked her course,
Along the wayward way.
But I don't like to carry tales,
So see this goes no further.
Just pray for her and ask The Lord,
To bless her poor dear mother.
The weight
He had written two short books
Wanted to show her, his work,
Not now she said, I’m watching telly.
Around the beam that keeps the heaven’s roof from falling down,
He slung a rope fastened to a scrap iron drum using
Himself as a counterweight.
He hoisted the drum up, but he was too heavy
He carried too much weight of pride.
He cried in the night struggled to get rid of unwanted feelings
The drum becomes lighter, descended until
He was lifted to the top of the beam feeling free
Of false pride and ambition.
Why did you cry so much in the night? He was asked.
He smiled, was at ease with himself, but didn’t answer.
The weight
He had written two short books
Wanted to show her, his work,
Not now she said, I’m watching telly.
Around the beam that keeps the heaven’s roof from falling down,
He slung a rope fastened to a scrap iron drum using
Himself as a counterweight.
He hoisted the drum up, but he was too heavy
He carried too much weight of pride.
He cried in the night struggled to get rid of unwanted feelings
The drum becomes lighter, descended until
He was lifted to the top of the beam feeling free
Of false pride and ambition.
Why did you cry so much in the night? He was asked.
He smiled, was at ease with himself, but didn’t answer.
everything is well all around
look to the thens to see what
you've found
gather your thoughts
and be higher bound
look to the tomorrows
dance like no one else is around
THOSE WHO CLAP IN OPPOSITION
AND APPLAUD THOSE I DESPISE
THEY PARTNERSHIP AND AGREEMENT
THEIR CLEVER AND DANKY DESQUISE
MINDFUL OF A FUTURE
CONTRASTING AND ENGAGING THINGS
COLLABORATIONS FOR TOGETHERNESS
WHEN PREPARED EYES SEE'S LEARNED PRACTICES
THEY SPEAK IN SEEMING CAUSE
THEY WISHED THAT IT'S
OPPOSITION
WOULD CALM THOSE WHO WORKED-OUT THEIR FLAWS
EVER SO UNCERTAIN
CREDIBLE IN OPPOSITION
DIRECTIONS GUIDED BY AMIRATION
TO DRUM-UP A NEW POSITION
HECKLERS SPEAK
THEIR MOUTHS SPIT DISTASTE
THE BOO AND JEER
WHILE DRINKING THEIR BEER
THEY ADMINISTER REFRASE
THEY SPEAK THESE WORDS IN FORM
THEY SHOW TO A WORLD IN JESTURE
Horn Have A Beer Haiku
What we have heard is
Charlie likes brew made from barley
Have to hop to it.
More people may meet
Who want their brew made with wheat
Supply did deplete.
To me would occur
Premium beer they prefer
For certain and sure.
When you are bottled up in
traffic which bottle of brew
will you break out without
breaking bottle knowing a
short hop you should have
taken instead?
Remember the song Rocking
Robin, wheat, wheat. Even
the birds will like wheat beer
and will fly to closest bar to
have some but I have never
seen any birds beating drums.
Would be difficult to hold them
under each wing. Guess they
were needed to drum up more
business with.
Jim Horn
the traffic?
"If you want to build a ship,
don't drum up the men to gather wood,
divide the work,
and give orders."
"Instead,
teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
When the management of personal relationships
and/or political unions
has degraded from empowering shared visions
for mental/physical health
and environmental safety
and ecologically wise economic prosperity
To disempowering unshared
unenlightened
fear and anger about what we can no longer afford
to keep losing
and continue loving
Then we have reduced
EarthTribe's inter-religious Golden Rule
to merely aspiring to do no further harm
to compassionate win/win reputations
now lose/lose trashed
Powering over hard lessons
in polarizing
victimizing
criminalizing
argue, fuss, and fight
trauma mismanagement
When we could have chosen resilient peace
while sailing through Earth's resonant beauty
if we could revisit
deeply listening for what we all need
before speaking with active curiosity
eye to eye.
I delight in love of a smile so gentle
a touch so divine and a warmth so cozy
I delight in the love of the flames of romance
they melt mine heart like wax to a flame
to love as commanded for love is divine
to uphold to trust and to delve into the quarry
the quest of a thirst so pure that dwells inside
inside of mine heart that yearns for a lovers embrace
I brace my self and steel my nerves
as i drum up courage the courage to approach her
love personified in the pretty female form oh so divine
an attribute so pure beholder I so desire
I smile on the approach on her part its a shadow of a smile
I know by now she is delighted in me pursuing her very heart
she knows i wish her well though not all mine intentions are holy
for to love is to stare into her eyes and feel them flames
flames that draw me to a cesspool of emotions a place divine
where mine fears are subdued wars fought and kingdoms taken
taken by her through the attributed influence her fiery passion
if to love is a commandment then mortal man i will adhere strictly
lewis k nyaga
I don't want to spread bad news,
So I can't say who told me,
But So And So was seen down town,
In most unsavory comp'ny.
It seems a shame that she can't see,
Her actions tell her story,
But you know me, I don't tote tales,
I just can't help but worry.
You should have seen her carry on,
Or so I'm told of course;
I can't say for sure myself,
And can't reveal my source;
For that might cause them untold shame,
And throw bad light on me.
I wouldn't want the town to think,
That I'd drum up such folly;
But mark my word, sure as I'm born,
That girl will rue the day,
That she set out and marked her course,
Along the wayward way;
But I don't like to carry tales,
So see this goes no further.
Just pray for her and ask The Lord,
To bless her poor, dear mother.
"THE WORDS OF A TALE BEARER ARE AS WOUNDS AND THEY GO DOWN INTO THE
INNERMOST PARTS OF THE BELLY."
Proverbs 26:22
(Did you know that learning to speak in two or more languages is not nearly as hard as learning to keep your mouth shut in one?)
For Conversation contest by Frank H.