Rose-colored glasses
the rough ahead seems rosy
details blurred ignored
dreams blossom with optimism—
truth in blissful ignorance.
Ethnicity lenses—
now that's a great idea
AI scans your race
then changes faces you see
into this ethnicity
All is rosy hue
all painted with the same brush
from the honey pot—
with judgment blurred, truth concealed
all differences bled away
Osprey scans waters
Swoops fish caught for young in nest -
Natural food chain
Her hair black as the hills of oil,
and thick as the forest of toil.
Adonis, with large palms, works hard,
to win her heart, under armed guard.
Her father keeps her chaste; in stow.
Charms’ locks, curly and blonde as sun.
He’s blinding; she thinks he’s the one.
Slips through the gate; she scans the skies.
She seeks the truth; love is all lies.
Her father knew; wisdom comes slow.
She is fated to always run.
(Too late…her father was the sun.
He kept her safe; wanted the best.)
Escape from hell, youth’s put to rest,
White teardrop gown, six feet below.
I'm supposed to create a few lines each day,
And arrange them into some kind of poem.
There's always a new way to write them.
Especially when it scans. It should rhyme.
But today, the guide I need most of
Is the coffee I perked this morning.
But Alice, the cat, informs me
That she's ready to dream on my chair.
The extra-long walks in the park help,
I've been there so many times.
I like to watch the kids play
They're distracting, and fun besides.
I'm home again. The cat hunts, the coffee's gone,
My wife comes home from work.
"How'd it go today, dear?"
"Great! sixteen lines in a row!"
"That's nice, dear! Does it rhyme?"
May I Hold Your Hands
David J Walker
May I hold your hands
Your soft and smooth skin
Soothed my brow and
helped me breathe again
We were so young
And free back then
May I hold your hands
As we walk the paths of life
As man and loving wife
And laugh through daily strife
Then kneel to pray with hands in hands
And talk in coded words
That only we could understand
May I hold your hands
As chirping children claim
Our time for their demands
And grow like trees
In search of clouds
That fit their lofty plans
And mark the passing days
A lifetime spans
May I hold your hands
As the ages change the pages
Of our mortal plans
And clocks sound off the chimes
In fulgor times
That our horizon scans
As we alter all the dreams
That were once our plans
And face the fading twilight
Walking hands in hands
I wish I could plug
A flash drive in your ear.
I would wipe clean the worries
Hidden deep inside there.
I know they've been hiding
In camouflaged space.
Your very own virus
firmly in place.
Spreading infection
Every which way.
Squeezing the happy
Right out of the way.
It's time to recover,
Diminish your pain.
Pick up your tools.
Reclaim your domain.
Before long, I promise,
With daily scans,
You'll reboot and function
With plenty of ram.
Perched on mountain peak
a fearsome eye
scans the sky
~ Open, its beak
beneath the screen’s unwavering eye
it scans the words where truths may lie
each line dissected parsed and weighed
a judgment rendered coldly made
this poem is not yours it claims
patterns match familiar frames
even those penned in years before
ai knocked on the public’s door
it cannot see the midnight muse
the quiet hours you dared to use
nor hear the scratch of pen on page
long before machines could gauge
it brands as false what’s truly real
the heart the thought the human zeal
it cannot grasp the time or space
when words were shaped by hand with grace
a formula a rigid test
it cannot know a poet’s best
for sparks of art defy the lines
of data rules and coded signs
so let it judge let systems weigh
and claim your craft a copied play
but know the truth is in your hold
each line a gem of priceless gold
not every word by code is sown
some seeds were planted all your own
and though the tools may still misread
your voice is yours your soul the seed
dark is the morning dark is my phone with aliens rushing our border
i watch these vermin with contempt
i take my eyes off at 8am sharp
the commute is only an hour but a good first impression i will attempt
i bought the new phone today
it’s 0.5 centimeters bigger and even has another camera to survey
i stopped by the restaurant because its payday
the cashier’s wage is pitiful and yet they obey
that restaurant is slick with oil in the night
tomorrow the donkeys wake up to the styx
it's just the usual politics
though no darker than the previous night
some donkeys have houses, some half detached
some donkeys work carts, some clack away at keyboards
all sleepy
but passionate enough to wage wars for pigs in hordes
our fat shadow casts a melatonin over them
honing an crepuscule covert with its shape
sluggishly, one eye scans for solidarity
satisfied with the turbulence over the landscape
Soft ivory pages, crisp and new.
Insulated from the world's harsh truths,
Snuggled in the comfort of rote learning, it waits.
Protected from challenging ideas,
Camouflaged as a bastion of knowledge,
Ignoring sounds of a changing world outside.
Each lesson absorbed, concepts released,
The slightest spark of curiosity dimmed,
Minds anchored to standardised forms.
Slow to evolve, the system creaks.
Returning to the safety of metrics,
Covered in a shroud of false contentment.
Coal-dark ink scans the ledger,
Nourished by the currency of test scores,
Effortless, true learning slips into the abyss.
A place where wisdom once flourished,
Embraced by the essence of inquiry,
Now mechanical, measured, misguided.
We too must remember,
The embrace of knowledge's true essence,
Living beyond the melting ivory tower.
Everyone has a favorite pond
where they come to put garnish upon...
Some bring koi and water lily
singing stones- the scent of mint
wading birds dressed in paradise
cattails waltzing with the wind.
Envy arrives at your pond
with treble hooks and buckshot eyes
turning tranquility into graves
plastic bags dancing in the shade.
Serenity forever pocked
a fifth of envy clanging off the rocks
As a vague gray scans the quiet-quiet frons.
When I woke up this morning, I was feeling mighty fine
But, things started getting fuzzy, at a quarter after nine
So, I sat down in my chair and hoped to end this blight
And though it therapeutic to take this time to write
But I needed inspiration, and the place that I've found best
Was to look down the list of all the poetry contest
Right away I found the one and I knew I had it beat
But as I neared the ending, I found it harder to complete
It was then I called My doctor and told him of my plight
He said that I should see him, and it better be tonight
I shared with him my symptoms and showed him what I wrote
He then produced some paper and prescribed this with a note
" Forget the M.R.I , X-rays, and those CAT scans,
What this patient needs is a rhyming Lipogram"
Who Knew?
"Every age yearns for a more beautiful world. The deeper the desperation and the depression about the confusing present, the more intense that yearning."
- Johan Huizinga
Within these white walls of wellness and weakness
lie labyrinths of life changing lies
Needless needles nip like nuisance nettles
Scary scans scrupulously scrutinize
Doctors dressed in drab garbs declare dreadful news
making moody me feel all the more miserable
Circumstances circle with cyst-like certainty
Persistent problems promote psychological pandemonium
Yearnings of yesterday yell and yammer for youthfulness
Lost in listlessness, I lament in laboured longing
Today was the day my partner would go,
Through the tunnel of light and her pain was no more,
My pain begins the end I don't know,
Today is no different the pain seems to grow,
I had the misery to watch her decline,
A tumour malignant but why not benign,
To witness my partner suffer like this,
Her last days she slept,
For me it was bliss,
Throughout her long illness we had to many scares,
From moments of collapsing or soiling her wears,
Problems with treatments,
Bad news from her scans,
Cathata keep blocking on the leg where it hangs,
Eight hours in chemo,
No fun on your own,
We were in a pandemic,
I'm forced to stay home,
Then to return after such a long day,
Hoping the treatment kept cancer at bay,
My partner stayed strong,
She put up a good fight,
To be free of the cancer ,
She must head for the light.
Seems like he is Bholu from my village,
He used to come every morning to fetch Neera(Palm Toddy) from the Taad(palm) tree,
He would tie ends of his anklets with a little rope.
and we would watch him go up the peak, wield his hatchet to get the extract from the inflorescence of the tree.
Down below, all the adults were ready with their pots,
Its the nature's bounty and morning's first kick with a few pennies to Bholu as tip,
Everyone bragged about the health benefits of Neera,
We little boys had no luck, we just watched Bholu's tree climbing skill.
Looks like Bholu has aged little bit and has grown wise and smart,
Now he carries his laptop along with his hatchet when he goes up the tree,
For years he was exploited, and he remained penny less,
Now he can make some money by looking up the Neera index on Bombay commodity stock exchange.
Now he goes half way up the tree,
scans the price of Neera on the world wide web,
If the price is high, Neera is served outright,
If the price is low, he would rather wait and look at the exciting Bollywood babes.
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