Play with Poetry

It's not that hard if you are willing to be misunderstood.

November

The grass blades titter amongst themselves

neighbor telling neighbor

their stories of the year that's gone

and the hopes for their labor

The wind softly spreads itself

to burrows high and low

and tells each empty tree it passes

the storms it has in tow

The black crow rests his silhouette

upon the quiet sky

and sings to everything below

the things that reach his eye

The landscape is not ominous

but preparing nonetheless

for the blankets soon to come

with winter's cold caress

The sun's wise rays invisibly

whisper to the dove

No this is not here to stay

but still he ought to go

missed merit

misery manifests madness from menial moments

madness manifests marked men measuring mortality

meaning manifests marvels from mediocrity

marvels manifest movements mastering morality

Dearest Death

I've not loved anything as I've loved death— truly— ​ I've never thanked for anything as I've for the end— deeply— ​ For the period The end stop The finality of it all— I exhalt— ​ His shadowy whispers seasonal threats melodic markings across space and time ​ He meets my mind with no doors no blinds— an invitation

—come in, won't you stay a while?— ​ The air sweetens The music swells The meal richens The tales captivate and I—tantilized ​ While his presence remains our fellow monotonies drain leaving space for beings divine ​ Dearest death— my bedfellow— Won't you please come to rest so we may dance again in the morrow?

The Patriot

Articulation fools a nation

Beads for seeds are sown

A message lost inside its bottle

Assigns the fickle throne

Dispense with heckler perturbation

Reap what now has grown

Just barren dust with rocks of mottle

And truth: a buried bone

The Liberator

The prisoner cannot free their mate

when all the world's a cell—

Though shackles be not one for many

a common chain does dwell—

It takes a key

exempt and seen

to loose the wretched iron—

But why the guard

would use it well when blind with filled desire?

The Wannabe Tree Frog

"This pond is not the home I want!"

the frog said to the spider.

"Well if you want what's

way up there, you'll have to

jump much higher."

"A little lift is all I need

to get to where I'm going."

"Oh my friend, if I put you there,

there'd be no use for growing."