OF AND IN POETIC GARDENING
(Apropos Of A Tanka Flow)
First, plow free your mind,
Then sow liberating seeds;
Letting others reap:-
Cultivating mentally,
Fertilizes destiny:-
Gardening poets,
Continue to plow and sow
Inspiring word-seeds:
Germinating reaped wisdom
Fruited with navigation:-
Poetic farmers,
Laboring in works of love,
Keep nourishing us
With those cistern-juices flow
From your gardens’ word-fruits:-
Through this vast world,
In the onederful oneness
Of fruiting onement,
Praises to farming poets,
For flowing fruiting fullness:-
As if by magic the words appear
like gentle whispers that I hear
they blend together like perfect paint
sometimes whispering ever so faint.
With each brush stroke or tip of pen
the magic flows like peaceful Zen
ink pirouettes upon my page
like a Prima ballerina upon her stage.
Stanzas created as words come to play
forming together like poetic ballet
sometimes moving with beautiful grace
sometimes running to another place.
Words dance and slowly unfold
like a ballet story that needs to be told
starting with a Plie, done with ease
Poems form and aim to please.
There may be days you want to stop
just like The Nutcracker was once a flop
but now it’s famous, shared worldwide
so keep on writing, chasse or glide.
Let words appear without the strain
gently does it, you don’t want pain
Choreography & dance all take time
never rush performance or rhyme.
Never complain
never explain
Life on the margins
others sustain
Freeing both ends
caught in the middle
Releasing the truth
— solving the riddle
(To Cole Porter: September, 2025)
poetic art
a brush stroke, perhaps a word...
so daring in its galliant debut -
onward...pulsing, pushing...
perhaps a time of remembrance...
perhaps an inkling to stir the mind...
drifting, searching...
of all the childhood haunts...
I remember your first endeavor ....
of leather and lace
Colors traced
And a sense of freedom
Through the fields of youth
1406 ALLITERATIVE POETIC contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ALLITERATION CONTEST – a poetic phonetic
A quick study
fast learner
knowledge gainer
page-turner
info. retainer
midnight lube burner
all at sea
in a world of turmoil
choosing my words carefully
pouring oil on turbulent waters
a salve to soothe the sorry soul
picking only those
which carry weight
reset the balance
and the sentiment I wish to state
losing myself in the still point
of my poetry
it's there where I find
sweet sanctuary
They, without a trace of shame,
painted their hearts with the crimson blood of their lovers’ lips.
And I… my only share was the cold blue of the moon,
spilled carelessly,
like a tear severed from the sky,
upon my cheeks.
Those drops sank into the ridges of my heart,
painting my eyes with a lifeless gleam,
and the moon’s quiet sorrow wound through my soul
at 3 A.M.,
before I surrendered to sleep.
I was fragile beneath the blade of the sun,
and the conqueror of stars
that dared not draw near.
The red pen hovers like a hawk,
its beak sharp with erasure.
Words are stripped of their fever,
left pale, bloodless, trembling.
A thought, once naked,
is swaddled in gauze—
so the wound won’t offend.
The page shivers in silence.
I watch my tongue,
tethered in the mouth’s dark stall.
A candle tries to speak in flame,
but the wax floods its throat.
Behind the curtain,
the truth grows mildew,
while the official story
shines like polished bone.
TO BASKING ON THE SHORES OF MY POETIC SEABED
Lying here on the shores of the seabed of poetic creation,
May this flow of waving words stream joy, worthiness, and
Inspiration to the thirsty eyes they froth upon; hydrating them,
And energizing sad, weary souls with peace, love, and hope.
May such allegorical words overflow into waiting cups,
To later be sipped by a deciphered understanding of minds
Hungry for awareness, truth, and guidance towards liberation:-
Indeed, may God pour out of my poetic cistern, his divine wisdom.
And for these frothing waves of words of peace and love,
I would be in dehydrating remission if I did not give praise
And thanks to my fellow blessed scribes who likewise
Continue to water my poetic seabed with nourishing grace:-
Poems may be simple, try writing a rhyme,
add some images to make it sublime.
Simple words may make meaningful phrases,
difficult words can turn into mazes.
You could write a Limerick, just for fun,
don’t forget a surprise before you’re done.
Write a nice Haiku, a scene of nature,
like flowing mountain streams with water pure.
A Sonnet would be nice before you’re through,
three verses of four, the last one is two.
Choose your own rhyme scheme, the last two must rhyme,
here’s my last two to summarize this time.
By writing a poem, you’re given a way,
to share with others what you have to say.
"Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art!"
When I am hit by this cute cupid's arrow,
I find myself writing about love and romance.
I will never fight it,
I must enjoy this feeling and write on.
When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do!
Amber-gold
delicate
fresh daisies
dance and smile
whispering
to the sky
a loving
melody
of delight
Placed third
Tricube Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Oliver Mckeithan
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