Jumping timelines,
Creating this design,
Weaving a web to combine,
Multiples of beings that shine,
While I intertwine with the Divine,
Bringing them all on line,
A sign of the end,
To an old frame of mind,
Weaving webs of their own kind,
Leaving treasures to find,
For those walking blind,
Through the web of time,
Primed with the wisdom,
To carry them through,
So they can create their own web too.
Springy my thoughts of bunny hops, wiggles
of sunflowers in zephyr sweep. The seeds,
of dust to dust, burst forth in strong giggles.
The progeny of life does pluck grief’s weeds.
Suppose, the sun didn’t shine on yellow highs,
The pierce of thorns didn’t bleed for our rebirth.
The seed just burns…no bonny buds…the sighs
of wings, lifting the rock, thus stopped…no worth.
But, flowers bloom in living hues, refuse
to die without one child. Bunnies succeed
to sire in multiples; of pinks, of blues.
Sunrise lifted the Son, scattered the seed.
Green nights of hope, just sleep, with sun geared up.
Newborns of Spring wriggling whilst we tear up.
It's been a long time since the cicadas rumbled.
History books say 'twas eighteen hundred and three
When war struck the trees where bees sometimes bumbled.
The seventeen and thirteen boys couldn't agree.
The horror of those days can't be told in rhyme,
But that war to end wars, we may again see.
I tell you children that it's once again time.
It's history that tells us and also some math -
It's because thirteen and seventeen are prime.
For the first time since, they're headed down that path
With products and least common multiples the same,
Their hatch cycles will line up in nature's cruel wrath.
In twenty twenty-four bugs will kill and they'll maim.
Do they just need more food to all eat hearty
For them to be happy and peace to proclaim?
STENCILISTA
multiples
of
mutual
repulsion
to
faciitate
vivid
imagery
overlaid
squeeged
masked
thru
mesh
lithographed
into
art
Devrais-je feindre l'ignorance pour cacher mes sentiments,
Ou devrais-je vraiment m'en soucier, incapable de feindre?
Tant de courage pour affronter l'inconnu,
Pourtant muet devant elle, le cœur en peine.
Qui est-elle, demandez-vous, avec ce sourire éclatant,
Oui, elle en effet, une vision si divine,
Dans le couloir, je l'ai contemplée un moment,
Avec des cheveux comme des rubis, une beauté si fine.
Son sourire, un phare, reste dans mes pensées,
Pourquoi, je me demande, mon cœur incline-t-il ainsi?
Pourquoi elle, le désir de mon âme, de multiples façons,
Pourquoi elle, avec qui je souhaite être, mais ne sais pas.
Elle est merveilleuse, j'ose le proclamer,
Car je l'ai vue danser avec une passion débridée,
Une rougeur ornant ses joues, une flamme pourpre,
Ma conviction s'est approfondie, sans nom mais nommée.
Les jours passent, et je me contente seulement de dire 'Bonjour',
Voulant avouer, mais aussi prendre mon temps.
La confusion m'envahit, les émotions débordent,
Pourtant, la clarté chuchote, guidant où aller.
La question persiste, comment faire les choses bien,
Dans cette danse des cœurs, sous la douce lumière de l'amour.
number addicts unfreeze the itch
in their number attics where-in
a'top any...
"logic-call" be
counts in/of...
all four directions as
imaginary number concepts
that be just...
multiples of square roots
of a minus-one...
yielding imaginary pictures giving a
shape/form to illustrate some space-time
that's unseen and so then given...
a number-mask by the mind that's
not of numbing-brrrrrs...
stan sand
The first - a vain attempt to cleanse the soul.
The second - a customary rinse of sweat from a run.
The third - necessary defense against the itchy consequences of visiting a barber.
It's not that a shower is particularly special ... but so rare is the day that I'd take three.
Multiples of the mundane -
Suddenly charged with significance.
Might the days in my ordinary life
add to such a revelation sometime?
12 November 2022 (1 day prior was the subject of this poem, however)
Do you want to feel good about yourself
Then make someone else feel good also
Say something positive that's great
Take some kind words from the shelf
Insert them into your comments, friend
They'll come back in multiples, so
Apply that love language don't you wait
How many positive words
Flow from your mouth like tunes from spring's birds
Kind words painful wounds mend
A form Robert Frost used in his work, "A Time To Talk"
If you know what poetry form it is, let me know.
It goes like this:
1. a (9)
2. b (9)
3. c (8)
4. a (7)
5. d (9)
6. b (8)
7. c (9)
8. e (7)
9. e (9)
10. d (6)
My syllable count might not be exactly correct.
For Brian
Written: 10/06/2022
As for this singular problem.
Whom is it to whom, within hands reach.
Am I awake, I do dream?
Thinking in multiples.
The level of a very complex being.
Which if I must, I beg you to think.
Is it not possible to solve them?
Differences,
the same levels, whom made them?
Love is a dream that begins
Love is a chimera that begins
It’s a ballerina who dances
It’s a poet who thinks
It's a bird that sings
It's the freshness of mints
It's the lie of the ancestors
It's the gossip thing
That's all we see
That's all we hear
It's the old man who lies bitterly
It's the shadow we stumble upon
It's the pretty or the ugly woman
It’s the existence of the soul
It's our sad imagination
It's our painful inspiration
It's the farewell of lovers
It’s the escape of a charming being
It's the death of emotions
It's the end of the passions
Love is a dream that never ends
Love is a nightmare that never ends
We don't know what else to say
While crossing or crisscrossing the ages
And by stepping or jumping over the clouds.
P.S. Translation of ‘Les Multiples Facettes De L’Amour’
by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
The wilderness is uncultivated
The forests are untapped
The oceans are pregnant with billions
When I look at how many solutions
That already exist in my choice sphere
I crawl back into my shell
But the next minute, I'm informed of the crisis, in multiples of ten, that has hit the neighbourhood, and aha
I'm forced to step out and get my hands tilling. We need to keep the solutions coming because the challenges are on endless auto-arrival
Wherever you see a need to give a hand, forget the number of hands in the room, send in yours.
Life is the fragile substance
the only that can
disappear in a breath
and make a bluster
in the silence
mangling multiples
hearts
Married by the same pain.
Tension builds in multiples
Between two lords with their disciples:
For knives wanting to rush at arteries,
Trouble starts changing their batteries!
Now, every cough is risky:
Experimentation with the frisky;
Every move of defiance,
A murderous stab’s reliance;
The discordant notes of a forced sneeze
And awkwardness of every heard wheeze.
Something of headache for cold-suffering Clement
Already out of his element:
“How he should every sneeze contain
And a rearing cough detain…
And the final hateful explosion delay,
If he must still with his life pay?
Twenty-four men in a field
Leaving blood-thirsty tension to build!
If I could have just one desire
maybe multiples of sevens
I would swallow my pride
place it inside
Up Chuck spew out the spoonful of defoul
on a tablespoon
sprinkle it with honey no sugar
swallow the bitter filler of disdained
all those monarchies enrage hierarchies
Throw up spew out a spoon full of defoul
O, what's wrong wit me
In my part of this sinful heresy
repelling me I throw up my jealousies
all of this inside of me
Upchuck spew a spoonful of defile
swallowing like a spoonful of antacid
I would take more molasses
I spit on my shame
I throw up in vain
but it's not what goes in my mouth
but yet what comes out
Raw species upchucking
crawfishes filthy and hurt
rather eat dirt
but those things that come forth
from the mouth go out from the heart
come out of the heart
and these things defoul the man
Please! Don't don't say this all over again!!
Help us all LORD
1/6/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
St Matthews 15:18
Ominous and squishy thing in bureau drawer
I know because I head his silly roar,
Which angered me, shaken to my core.
You’ll go check it, if me you do adore…
What am I supposed to do? Ignore?
Your checking was rather pathetically poor.
I only gave you one tiny bitty chore.
Why must you right now go to the store?
Maybe I will run down to the seashore.
I stick out my tongue at the closing door.
I’m right back where I started before.
The interloper makes a tiny roar.
Next I call up my new armoire’,
Love you I say. He says “Love you more!”
Hey, what else do you need from the store?
I have multiples, you see, at least four.
Our husband’s life will never be a bore.
I’m not making this up, it’s not an urban lore.
That bureau drawer is starting to ascend and soar.
Good bye, I say to that ominous roar.
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