Attention Please! Attention Please!
'Attention please! Attention please!
Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze!
Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake!
Your health, your very life's at stake!
Ho–ho, you say, they can't mean me.
Ha–ha, we answer, wait and see.
Did any of you ever meet
A child called Goldie Pinklesweet?
Who on her seventh birthday went
I Speak Not #153 In Top 500 Poems On 15th July 2021
I speak not
As I feel
Speaking is not essential
Silence speaks for itself
Even eyes speak
Speak thousand words my quivering lips
Unsaid words travel million miles
Sun speaks
Moon speaks
Speaks the thunderstorm
City That Does Not Sleep
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.
Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
A Thunderstorm In Town
She wore a 'terra-cotta' dress,
And we stayed, because of the pelting storm,
Within the hansom's dry recess,
Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless
We sat on, snug and warm.
Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain,
And the glass that had screened our forms before
Flew up, and out she sprang to her door:
I should have kissed her if the rain
A Thunderstorm
A moment the wild swallows like a flight
Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high,
Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky.
The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight,
The hurrying centres of the storm unite
And spreading with huge trunk and rolling fringe,
Each wheeled upon its own tremendous hinge,
Tower darkening on. And now from heaven's height,
With the long roar of elm-trees swept and swayed,
And pelted waters, on the vanished plain
The Frog Pool
Week after week it shrank and shrank
as the fierce drought fiend drank and drank,
till on the bone-dry bed revealed
the mud peeled;
but now tonight is steamy-warm,
heavy with hint of thunderstorm.
And hark! hark! hoarse and harsh
the throaty croak of the frogs in the marsh:
"Wake! wake! awake! awake!
Mother Nature's Moodswings
Nature smiles in Spring
Pulls at our heart string
as greenery's hued in greener tinge
Having had an everlasting effect
on those evergreen trees.
Nature frowns in Autumn
Browns crisply but in coral hues
even if it feels blue in the fall
Almost seems to sigh drily, wistfully
Silent Poem
backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk
underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow
woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile
sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep
backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk
candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread
hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup
Thy Living Touch
Thy living Touch
Dive me deep into thy thought,
Day and night with dream and desire,
Thy immortal touch can flow that is rigid,
Melt hard stone with soft mellow fire.
Day passes not for mystic light,
Blue firmament doth call unseen
Wonderment.
The throbbing pulsation links eternal rest,
An Africa Thunderstorm
From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Turning sharply
Here and there
Like a plague of locusts
Whirling,
Tossing up things on its tail
Like a madman chasing nothing.
Pregnant clouds
Paul Bunyan
He rode through the woods on a big blue ox,
He had fists as hard as choppin' blocks,
Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall...that's Paul.
Talk about workin', when he swung his axe
You could hear it ring for a mile and a half.
Then he'd yell'Timber!' and down she'd fall...for Paul.
Talk about drinkin', that man's so mean
That he'd never drink nothin' but kerosene,
The Ghost Of The Murderer's Hut
My horse had been lamed in the foot
In the rocks at the back of the run,
So I camped at the Murderer's Hut,
At the place where the murder was done.
The walls were all spattered with gore,
A terrible symbol of guilt;
And the bloodstains were fresh on the floor
Where the blood of the victim was spilt.
The Prisoner
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars:
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
Travels
O traveler poet
Read your poem with the last autumn thunderstorm
to the sleepless long night
For no one will listen to the wound of poetry any more
With the arrival of the last snowflake of winter
Make a snowman for the time
And with its melting say
Goodbye, cruel era
*
When you left home, you closed the doors quietly
Vision Embroidery
(dedicated to Karin Anderson, a great poet at poemhunter)
क ् ल ै ब ् य ं म ा स ् म ग म
प ा र ् थ न ै त त ् त ् व य ् य ु प प द ् य त े
क ् ष ु द ् र ं ह ृ द य द ौ र ् ब ल ् य ं त ् य क ् त ् व ो त ् त ि ष ् ठ
A Redeemer
The road had steepened and the sun sharpened on the high
ridges; the stream probably was dry,
Certainly not to be come to down the pit of the canyon. We
stopped for water at the one farm
In all that mountain. The trough was cracked with drought, the
moss on the boards dead, but an old dog
Rose like a wooden toy at the house-door silently. I said 'There
will be water somewhere about,'
And when I knocked a man showed us a spring of water. Though
his hair was nearly white I judged him
When Rivers Run Cold
When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm
Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm
When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn.
Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne?
When gentle words turn harsh, it makes you wonder what went wrong
Why we ever stayed, what happened to all that loving birdsong
When love, turns to hate it makes you wonder why we ever kissed
Why we ever [melted] only to freeze up like snow inside too cold to exist.
Music
Something of heavens ever burns in it,
I like to watch its wondrous facets' growth.
It speaks with me in fate's non-seldom fits,
When others fear to approach close.
When the last of friends had looked away
From me in grave, it lay to me in silence,
And sang as sing a thunderstorm in May,
As if all flowers began to talk in gardens.
! Imagine Angels
imagine angels.
imagine a bolt of lightning
out of the blue so blue
striking a tree
a few feet away
imagine a thunderstorm
remaining overhead all night
***a Friend In Me
My joys I share to you
This moment
I am giving it to you
My smiles my laugthers
Are all because of you
Happy to know
I have you here with me
Happy to know
You are a true friend
Who will stand by me?