could it be a testicle
like cotton buds
from the penis flower

a witched river
under dark clouds
of brooms that don't fly anymore
maybe in need of an upgrade

perhaps a spell of weaponized winds
with insinuated floating ghouls
shaking their lopsided claws
under blood orchards
and diagrams of grief
as they follow their noses
looking for pussy

Mom’s Smiles (COMPOSED BY Lovedly) Inspiration Contest

Very sentimental poetry
I recall my mom’s last eyes
no tears
Smiles as she passed by
tears did not then come into my eyes I too smiled
Then it rained all day and night
mom’s smiles went away
now I thirst for those looks till today
as she passed away

it rains till today
nearly five decades away
she still smiles daily at me
I my mom can see
smiling with me

Does a tree look back
At its younger years
With sapling self-
Reproach,

Wondering why it took
So many storms,
A filling out around the gut,
A losing of
The leaves,
Again and again

(Like a 40 year old
With pattern
balding)

Another season
Closer to death,
Another season
Closer to death,

Before realizing the real
Gift of sunlight
And rain,
Neighbors,
Animal and arbor?

Does it fear,
Like us,

"The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe

Our vehicles swarm in a steel hot day
Around the busy round-about
Where the highway meets Route 4.
It was there my eyes saw a raven
Arriving and defiantly posed
Folding his wings behind his back,
In the center of the berm with dead weeds,
Encircled by a wall of stone.

His eyes followed our every move;
Black like the craggy graveyards
He must have come from
(Like that stupid poem we read in school
About some creepy bird and fool).

The more I love
the more you drift away
why do you do it
in such a way

Life is meant to enjoy
I pray
just follow my pathway

As you don’t love to do
what I want you to
then blame me not
for the shallow river
where I leave you

knowing not
that you can’t swim
use your imagery
and remember
that life can be lonely
after me
who will salvage you

and

upon whose shoulder will you rest
have you ever thought of it

She tried to grasp the wet, silvery fish, but it continued to slip, flowing around her palms and fingers. Firming her grip and stabilizing the fish, she moved it and plopped it into a different tank. The fish swished through the illuminated liquid, and grew at a smooth and intensely quick pace. Its perspective was changing with its body. And changing forms through different species, it began to mold with ease into a human, until the form was exactly like hers, just with a new perspective.

Alive and kicking.

Nostalgia.
What a thing to hold in the mind.
No shame in admitting it, when
You put your wings on, yes,
They may be a little snugger fitting.

Yet, when you draw your feet up
From this green bound firmament
You still feel it.

Alive and kicking. You skate, and thrust
Upward to that pitiless disk,
Sunglasses on, like paddy the Greek,
You learn the steep blue,

He draws a line in arabesque, to trace
a whirling smoke around the mortal band;
surprised vacancy wraps around a hand,
that would now sculpture beauty’s lovely face.

With hands in cosmic mist he would aspire
to fold back stars beyond the milky sea,
but what he finds, re-forms, increases ire
where eye ahead of sense cannot see?

And though his soul in sweet radiance blush,
in heaven’s twinkled call, in her full rush,
he struggles still to place her sweet face near,
in this instance of beauty’s presence here;

Bird watching-
My buds and I.
Stunning-
Is she a mirage?
Territory-
Mine boys!
My approach-
Country roads.
Her response-
City streets laughter.
Back to buds-
Creative evasion.