rkay

age appropriate challenges

Folder: 
2022

.

 

 

 

 

 

In this lifetime of striving
childhood's tentative bumbling,
youth's arrogant impertinence,
middle aged regimented conceit,
in old age, encrusted intolerance;
when will we likely ever win?

 

 

 

.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

pushing the thought to one end of the spectrum - less salient qualities.... of course begging the expression of the positive opposite possibility.

View crypticbard's Full Portfolio

to book or not to book

Folder: 
2022

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

unwritten words;

unprinted books:
orphaned thoughts

are never well placed

as an unread tome
or an uncommented
online posted poem

 

 

 

 

.

desire

Folder: 
Prior work

.

 

 

 

 

 

flame
running faster than
you can flutter a lash
flash
rushing swifter than
we can sniff a flower
fresh
rippling quieter than
they can queue on Black
Friday

 

 

.

modular nonconformity

Folder: 
Prior work

.

 

 

Never too early, never too late;
Life can be a heaped-up plate.


Today you are comfy, tomorrow, lost;
Yesterday's loss determines the cost.


The future disguises no blemishes.
Hope's a parachute that never perishes.

 

 

 

.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An older piece from a rhyming phase over two decades ago. Please be kind to this geezer of a poem.

View crypticbard's Full Portfolio

reminder

Folder: 
2022

filled with melancholy
mood lit by lampshade
names and faces dissipate

weathered post it sticks
if only the memory did

windswept smiles

Folder: 
Prior work
.


long, top down drives
even shirtless tans
sweet strawberry kisses and
glorious watermelon stains

laughter lifting through the trees
glimpses of sun blest promises
sugar coated whispers
catching in the breeze

fruit bowls, waterholes
and refreshing icy poles
interlacing fingers share
starry nights and lazy days


.

 

Are you my butterfly?

Folder: 
Prior work

` 

My butterfly is no longer mine, 
I wonder if she ever really was; 
When she alights on my shoulder 
I know she wants me to hold her - 
Flies off and she's mine no longer. 

My butterfly so frail and fine, 
I wonder if I was ever hers; 
When she returns to kiss me again 
I know she's more than just a friend - 
Flies off and gone forever more. 

` 

when novelty fades

Folder: 
Prior work
.
.
. . . . .  . . . .  ^    
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . . . . . . .《♢》
. . . .. .. .soon we'll tire
. . . . of - this - game
.. . ..of cloaks and daggers
  .~ ^-^^-^^-^^-^^-^~
.. . . . . . . .《♢》
.. . . . . . . .《♢》
.. . . . . . . .♢》
.. . . . . . . . .♢♢
.. . . . . . . . . ♤  
.
.
.
.

 

cannot, will not go

Folder: 
Dead Poets

.

 

[for Emily Jane] 
this was written after having to struggle through Wuthering Heights in English Lit....

Then I moved on to the other writings of Miss Brontë.... strange reaction...

especially writing to someone long dead (1982)




The night has fallen around us 
And the wind it savagely blows; 
A wicked mood is cast upon me, 
One from which I cannot go. 


Against the night, orbs on lamp posts loom, 
Flickering forth a sickly yellow light; 
A storm from deep within advances, 
And still no hope for me to go. 


Heavy leaded clouds drape the sky, 
The paving just as dark below; 
Such sight it fails to move me, 
I cannot and I will not go.

 

 

 

.