There was a greenhouse…

There was a greenhouse across the road
yesterday…
today it is gone
devoured by a hungry back-hoe
and maybe a bulldozer

There was a greenhouse across the road
for years,
its always been there
in my recollection
and for long, long years past

There was a greenhouse across the road
which provided a home
for flowers without number
lighted, and heated
to foster life and procreation

There was a greenhouse across the road
that just last autumn
was bustling and singing
with joyful voices and brilliant colors
as plants moved on to new gardens

There is no longer a greenhouse across the road
the metal and glass and plastic
are gone away, and perhaps
soon will be forgotten
except for a few sad reminders.

© Sometimes, 2017

Death is late…Re-blogged from writer George Agak’s site, Sliver of Darkness.

I am very touched by this excellent poem by George Agak.      His work is very graphic, and grabs ahold of the reader and doesn’t let go.       It is an accomplishment to achieve such a deeply emotional work of writing, and as you folks know, I am not subject to being moved by hyperbole….so I appreciate what I may call beauty-in-horror.      It is a sad fact that this kind of terrible scenario exists in our modern world.       Thanks for letting me re-blog, George!

 

Sliver of Darkness

hqdefault

I will write a letter and toss it in the wind
Or strip your hammock and toss in the river
I might be dead when they reach you
Nothing has changed
Yet nothing has remained the same
The gods have been vexed
All this time they’ve held rain

Grass still grows
Watered by endless flow of blood
The valley has changed its appeal
The shades we once rested under
Now home rotting humans
And vultures feast
The freedom fighters have fought the system
Then rebelled against their prior motives
They kill anything in human gait

But still….
The government lives
Not counting the ones lost
They fly outside to drink and dine
Because this nation is rotten
Their appetite might wane

When they took you, bro,
I couldn’t fight them
That’s cowardice I know
But death isn’t for the brave either

Bro, this nation is rich
You could have seen…

View original post 80 more words

breathing in…and out

[Here is a poem that I think my readers will like.   Very appropriate to Spring, I think.]

breathing in,
oxygen I consume
which loving plants exude
breathing out,
carbon dioxide sent
for loving plants to use

and so we dance
to the delight
of the sun giving life
from all of its radiant rays
we give and we take
each and every day

the purpose of our existence
is reliance and assistance
to and from all that is around us
in this beauty that surrounds us
we are not alone
but all one
parts of the total sum

and if we wish to remain
from our harmful actions we must refrain
contemplate and reflect
all of the effects
and their cause
not one immune to natural law

so please take heed
using only what u need
leaving very little waste
mindful of every step you take
and the foot prints left in their wake

 

©Max’sMaxims, (Sometimes, 2017)

Promise in a Poem (Cee’s Odd Ball Challenge entry)

 

I am unique among my peers
having arisen from the Winter
more or less intact… if a bit bedraggled.
One might say the word—disarray?
to describe broken remnants
and staring, bleary rimless eyes
askew and discolored
arrangement of my limbs and leaves,
disheveled scraps of nascent green
tones, silky serrated edges of hemline.
Better days have been….and will be again
and my modest Winter garments
will have fallen to the ground.
Please don’t judge me—for who among us
can preserve the beauty and newness of Summer
beyond the ravages of rain and snow
and Cold from the relentless winds?
You are invited to return in half a year hence,
and feast upon my resurrected beauty
as new green foliage  and velvety petals
of red and white roses prevail.

© Sometimes, 2017

Cee’s Odd Ball Photo Challenge: January 22, 2017

dsc00052

 

swan song, Wordle # 124, MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie

Here’s a scrap of rhyme from one of my notebooks, Wordle #124, from last October’s prompt in MindLoveMisery’s post.    I would apologize for the delay, but here it is anyway….better late than never.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/10/wordle-124-october-10th-2016

week-124

A grey Cygnet has lost its Mum
adrift on a branch of fennel.
A tad of soft nectar escaped from a bloom
inexplicably left by a passing Sparrow…
serves well as emergency forage
against hunger pangs, until Mama’s return
to bandage the Cygnet’s distress.
The sunlight reflects beams of light
which belie the clarity of vitrified matter
embodied in clear bubbles of resin.

© Sometimes, 2017

 

Fading Eyes… a Haiku for Rodovan’s challenge

Here is a Haiku I wrote for the Rodovan Writes weekly Haiku poetry prompt challenge.   The prompt for the week is the words– Fade, and Eye.

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge Image 2016

 when eyesight fades, like memories

when my eye sight fades
memory banks are ready
to enter mind’s eye

(Sometimes, 2017)

https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2017/02/13/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-136-eyefade/

be-longing (re-blogged from Lorraine’s frilly Freudian slip)

Pogo’s saying “We have met the enemy, and He is Us”— in the comic strip by cartoonist Walt Kelly (1971) has long since been one of my favorite quotations…and I find it SO appropriate to our current situation. Thanks for allowing the reblog!   This blog is fresh and different in content and ideas; it reflects my own frame of mind in several ways.   I think my faithful followers will like this blog too!

Lorraine's frilly freudian slip

fear does not a nation make

nor isolation a country great

as we move backward in time

we tread that very very fine line

all seems revulsion, rejection, disgust

“we have met the enemy and he is us”*

must there be a revolution, another civil war

for then “we the people” shall exist no more

* Pogo cartoon strip by Walt Kelly

View original post

Entities, a dark tale of “what if?” for MindLoveMisery’s Tale Weaver #105

 

[Here is my entry for MindLoveMisery’s Tale Weaver #105, The Dark Side
The challenge is to write a horror tale, something dark and scary (if possible…asking for “scary” is like asking for “humor.”)  I usually don’t write this kind of thing, but here goes….]

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/02/02/tale-weaver-105-the-dark-side-02-02-17/

Some call them “entities,”
the mysterious forms that appear
out of the dark identities
that linger beyond their time to disappear.

Would they remain if the light fails
when the switch malfunctions
or a passing cloud the bright moon pales
or if we freeze before we give in to compunctions?

Or if our night visitors are figments of imagination,
as we reassure our waking senses,
would the benefit of a new orientation—
like turning our backs to them—compense?

Just  think, how a chilly shiver might give us pause…
if Mr. Poe’s “tapping,” instead of just a black bird,
had been in fact a creature’s pecking claws,
an unspeakable thing from a mired pit, so untoward.

So what if the cloudy caricature figure (our entity,)
solemnly menacing from the dark places beside our bed
would not fade into nothingness at flash of first light…
but take form of the night terror within our head?

© Sometimes, 2017

dreaming daisies

 

when the snow
covers the meadow
in silence
so profound
dreams of daisies linger long
after petal fall

© Sometimes, 2017

The Shadorma is one of my favorite poetic forms.  It consists of six lines…                  of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, and 5 syllables…respectively.

Scapegrace…MMLM Wordle 137

(Day 16, 2017)

Rogue Mayor

ever the scapegrace (his position aside)
given no quarter of tolerance
for sudden nicotine cravings…
mealy-mouthed and queasy from years
of parapraxis and gelatinous back-bone…
he longed for a fusion of wit and wisdom
to complement his vast popularity.
Then at last came the day that a spark
took flare and he enacted a non-smoking law
of dubious but far-reaching value.

© Sometimes, 2017

 

week-137

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/01/09/wordle-137-january-9th-2016/

 

a walk in the park… a wordle poem

As we walk along the darkened trail
pine needles crunch beneath our boots
giving pungent aroma into the night.
Lanterns glow beyond curtained mist
we laugh as  an owl a “good evening” hoots.

We take the trail to the river edge
where trim gardens hide their colors
as they gather rest for tomorrow’s sunlight.
The moon parts clouds to reveal the bridge,
silhouetted demurely against midnight sky.

The horn of a passing ship on a mystery trip
captures our fancy as we breezily speculate
on excursions we still might have taken—
these are the things…  a sigh, a kiss…
form memories that linger in clear view forever.

© Sometimes, 2017

 

As all two of you know, I LOVE Wordles!     Wordles is a feature of MindLoveMisery, and I enjoy doing them.  I search for them on the MLM site, and write the word list in my working notebook, and work on them when I have a chance.   Sometimes it is an extra challenge to make a story or poem using all of the twelve words given.

t269

Wordle #269, originally published on Sunday Whirl, hosted by Brenda Warren  https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/wordle-269/

https://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/photo-challenge-133-and-wordle-269/

 

 

 

The Echo

(Day 15, 2017)

The Echo

Do your ever wonder, kind Sir
if she ever wonders of you?
The answer would be, if ever asked,
truth might be revealed…when taken to task..

Oh yes!  the lady remembers
and the words echo in part of her brain
and again she whispers…ever so near…
“never forget me”…from her lips to your ear.

Long ago and far away
a dream thus lasted, until this day.
those words echo again…come what may…
lips are silent, have nothing else to say.

© Sometimes, 2017

circling the wagons…

keeping up with the shenanigans
leading up to the off-again/ on-agains
complacent in our political wagons
endeavoring to circle… Old-Western style…
made difficult by attempts to  mis-beguile
by conflicting opinions and factions

turning the political order on its head…
keeping promises to the rabid, illogical  crowd
flies in the face of common-sensical thought
due to ignorance of which they are proud;
defying the principles by which they were taught,
…the  cost with which our freedom was bought.

© Sometimes, 2017