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Generosity

Getting a good life has been a knowing disease,
A ready living haphazard that is your property.
I find people are kinder as the days go by,
As they travel like a boat on a sea, and not a river.

Beauty can fail and wonders are for extra help,
Sugar can now be eaten if concentrated you are
In the sweet moments, the one and two forgiven.

Alive I cherish any remainder of hats and coats,
Alive I brandish a holy and saintly guide - the sword!

This is generous if my leader has a reading.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Love Conjecture

She saddens my heart
Depreciates my resepct and dignity

Left with poverty
I gave a little to much

Suffering rampid side effects
dishoner
disgrace

Small pieces that were seceretly stashed
Unable to give back stolen emotions
Accused of larceny of the heart
Charges:
Recklessness
Haphazard vaunting of poor interpertation
Twisted tribute reasonings of a panegyric

Excuses and alibies are easy to find.

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poem by Howard Johnson
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Kind Of Love Poem

there is the way
you sleep soundly
by the window with
the moon haphazard
crawling in between
the blinds. I asked you
before falling off to
sleep to please close
them “I can’t sleep
otherwise” I told you
“it’s too bright”, now
I can’t close them, it
would mean waking
the dead, instead I
am looking at old
pictures from the time
you told me, this
wasn’t a forever kind
of thing, now I’m
turning off the light

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poem by Ben Paynter
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A Discovery

this is what he found: that the more you evade
something that you fear
the more it stays and threatens you more
adds more fears
on this stance of denial

ah, confront it
head on
bounce and pounce
and sip and swallow and take in
whatever
digest and let it stay
whenever it wants to

things get boring
events want to roam
incidents are mere incidents
not wanting to stay any longer
memories dissolve
trauma escapes

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Another 0813 Initial Version

Another autumn evening's golden link
Now adds to measured Time in mind of man.
One more year [s]tumbles far from solstice brink,
Turns towards millenia billions scan.
Hopes rising generation soon sees sink,
Ending, one strong before its seed began,
Relearning this: 'I am because I think'
As one September spins predestined plan,
Names one September more Time's f[l]ame would ink.
One equinox haphazard knocks to fan
The fires of Fate which somehow interlink,
Here light Time's treadmill, spinning through its span.
Ends one loose line to tie thoughts in terse tale,
Reeled threads unwind another fresher trail...

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Another 0813 Current Version

Another autumn evening's golden link
Now adds to measured Time in mind of man.
One more year [s]tumbles down from solstice brink,
Turns towards millenia billions scan.
Hope's rising generation soon sees sink,
Ending, one strong before its seed began,
Relearning this: 'I am because I think'
As one September spins predestined plan,
Names one September more Time's f[l]ame would ink.
One equinox haphazard knocks to fan
The fires of Fate which somehow interlink
Here light Time's treadmill, spinning through its span.
Ends one loose line to tie these thoughts' terse tale,
Reeled threads unwind another fresher trail...

(8 September 2008)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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2/7/12

You are not the tears I shed

and I am not the words you speak

as we are not these things that make us

Separate/together

What is the sum of us

words and tears

The whole seen in fragments

Like the items thrown haphazard into an overnight bag

for a weekend tryst,

forgotten, put aside

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poem by Ryan Cole
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Tempus Fugit

TEMPUS FUGIT

Another day plays out, mocks time and place,
inseminating choice with seeds which chance
encounters may have made, or circumstance
contrived to seem haphazard. Steeplechase
Man runs against his life-clock tides a space
ephemeral which ends by happenstance
or slow disintegration. Yet the dance
reels on. The players differ, as the pace
speeds up and ever onwards to enlace
the dancers in a mesh where to advance
leads down the serpent’s jaws, but backward glance
turns fresh to salt yet halts not wretched race.
Yet often those opposing normalcy
are double bound by chains they seek to free.

8 July 1991

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Candle Lit Dinner (What She Deserves)

She doesn’t deserve just any poem
Not some mindlessly scrambled words
Flipped and fried
The a golden crisp with a sweet aroma

She doesn’t deserve just any frugal piece
Not just any metaphor or simile
Crushed, pressed and distilled
Into just any sweet nectar

She doesn’t deserve just any arms
Weak and fragile
Cracked and rotted
Put into an uneven shape

She doesn’t deserve just any care
Not some generic store bought
Untimely and haphazard care
Molded into a half made candle

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poem by Robert Dominicci
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Meditation By The Stove

I have banked the fires
of my body
into a small but steady blaze
here in the kitchen
where the dough has a life of its own,
breathing under its damp cloth
like a sleeping child;
where the real child plays under the table,
pretending the tablecloth is a tent,
practicing departures; where a dim
brown bird dazzled by light
has flown into the windowpane
and lies stunned on the pavement--
it was never simple, even for birds,
this business of nests.
The innocent eye sees nothing, Auden says,
repeating what the snake told Eve,
what Eve told Adam, tired of gardens,
wanting the fully lived life.
But passion happens like an accident

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poem by Linda Pastan
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