Poems

[Buddho]

Plump little bumblebee, stumbling mid air

like a sot who had one too many plus one.

Bumbles gleefully, busy bee buzzing

from flower to flower, stamen to stamen,

tending his garden of sweet nectar;

sun-warmed pile of fur coated in pollen,

sticky and yellow ochre-powdered gold

spewing forth by satiated pod like anthers.

His abdomen flicking against the stigma,

like the nervous tick of an old pantomime,

he inadvertently fertilizes it effortlessly

while adhering to daily scheduled harvesting,

as busy bumblebee's chores are never done.




Haiku:




a sage lilypad

whispers sympathy

tadpoles listen

[JCON]

Well done...

[dogfish7 (R.I.P.)]

Whoooooa, a Poet!

[Buddho]

Oct 14, 2019 16:01:40 GMT -6 dogfish7 (R.I.P.) said:

Whoooooa, a Poet!

hahahahahahahahaaha....no...I just slept in a Holiday Inn once.

[Buddho]

lightning strikes

lightning strikes a bright, fluorescent show
from heaven above to fright the skies
nature's fireworks rain down a blow
a feast of brilliance for the eyes

from heaven above to fright the skies
we brave a storm of magnificence
a feast of brilliance for the eyes
and recognize our insignificance

we brave a storm of magnificence
to stare in wonder from down below
and recognize our insignificance
when thunder follows the afterglow

to stare in wonder from down below
roars loud and boisterous, of this we know
when thunder follows the afterglow
lightning strikes a bright, fluorescent show

( A poem style called Pantoum )

[JCON]

I like that one!!!!

[Buddho]

Night's Repose

On a windswept day of sighs,

where the still calm
resonates in hushed whispers
of tomorrow,

cat-a-tails reach skyward
for that last gleam
of luminescence... waving farewell,

to a companion who
kisses back one final time.

The vast spillway
yawns in blue and violet streams
of serenity's teasing

as flora and fauna
drift easy into slumber,
evening's gentle embrace secured.

[Buddho]

Forget - Me - Nots

 


Forget - me - nots
of periwinkle and wry,
cloister the devotional
I do ably present to her.

Such talk of perfection
in the common sense,
but, a flaw from brilliance
is what plays my hand:

Of character traits,
untried and untrue.

Of grievances,
left unspent.

Of unspoken words,
and a hushed silence.

Of the pitch,
supplanting the luminosity
of good fortunes.

Of chaos,
dear and deficient.

Of the gander,
vexed and probing.

Of the waxened spirit,
emptied from turmoils.

That,
which is mannered bluntly
in truths,
is what flutters my veins,

and forget - me - nots
so remembered,

to be held precious in value,
buried deeply,

in confidence,
in breast of mine.

[JCON]

Nice!!!

[Buddho]

Thank you kindly sir.