ANXIETY (Acrostic)
Against what the body needs
Natural response to stress that feeds
Xray self within to see what is the cause
In doing so refrain and draw away from
Every and any indication of this
To not worry so much or be fearful
Yet life happens but it’s how we respond that counts
PM
The pit and patter
The chit and chatter
As the man confused
Goes up and down the ladder
Moving around like a person drunk
As he tumbles and stumbles
After walking to his car
And then falls into
The open trunk
That he left opened
A while ago
As the neighbors next door
Are laughing and enjoying the show
For who knows
Just what this guy will do next
As he then pulls out his phone
Then begins to send
A very unwanted text
To the lady he holds most dear
With not much dignity left
Having stated the one thing he fears
While full of shame and tears
With much in his life to confess
As a man in disarray
And have fallen away
From being at his very best
PM
Sitting and thinking
About nothing in the moment
But then all of a sudden
Here comes a random idea
An idea that I
Never saw coming
But so glad that it arrived
And not bothering to ask why
Just basking in this sudden thought
And wondering as to where it could lead
As I didn’t feel the need
To think anything at that time
But this random idea seems so nice
That I couldn’t help but smile
For it showed up for a reason
It showed up for a specific purpose
And in the season thereof
For this random idea
Just seems like it came
From above
But who I am to judge
So I decided to take part in this
For this could be that one idea
That I’m glad I didn’t miss
And the acceptance of it
For I can really work with this
To construct and turn this into
Something extraordinary and unique
For random ideas are at times
Quite discreet
Not known to repeat
And laid dormant
Until it was time to meet
As random ideas are usually
The best ones that noone saw coming
Nor thought they would ever see
PM
A poem typed up
Doesn’t take away from the art
A poem typed up
Is still the sum of all of its parts
A poem typed up
Whether slow or done in a rush
A poem typed up
Still has a brush with words
A poem typed up
Is no less effective or creative
A poem typed up
Will still have just as much
Of an impact even when heard
A poem typed up
Is still very much poetry
And takes nothing away from it
Just because its done digitally
A poem typed up
Is still a poem
Still does poetry justice
Still possesses poetic attributes
It’s just being created in a different way
Type or write
Penned on paper
Or displayed by screen
For poetry done in this manner
Is still what it seems
PM
BUILT (Acrostic)
Become the very best poet
Unapologetic and truly magnetic
Ignited by a fire that never goes out
Loving the art of poetry full blown
Taking the art to new heights without a shadow of doubt
PM
HELLO (Acrostic)
How you treat someone
Echoes much about oneself
Learning who reflects back in the mirror
Long term and through interactions
Ongoing and well beyond just your life alone
PM
Like a wilted flower
so is a poet that; loses their passion for the art,
or one that has gone on hiatus for a long time,
affected by writer’s block—
or other factors of life getting in the way,
for even one day,
without a poet attached to poetry,
is a moment of silent absence; and reclusion
or may have temporarily; lost the feeling of inclusion,
and I’m not one to just say—
but rather a poet that knows it,
and has unfortunately happened to,
here and there,
and never seems fair—
for poetry has always been a home,
and a sweet escape; into the world of words,
a dimension or realm of poetic lines,
and would never mind; abiding within the confines,
of the art of poetry—
no place for a poet to be,
no area for the poetic mind to reside,
and felt deep down inside,
as poetry for a poet—
was always meant to feel alive,
occur often and rise,
and poetically shine—
beyond everyday life itself; and through the hard times,
with a poetic smile buried deep within,
and just simply being and not pretending,
so I implore every poet—
to not allow this to happen to you,
if it can be helped,
for the art of poetry—
wouldn’t be the same; if you aren’t yourself,
and without you contributing and crafting,
more into its further existence,
and vital importance—
and the hope and pulse—
to never allow or show,
be blocked or feel off as we know it,
for we cannot allow ourselves to be,
or ever succumb to—
The falloff period of a poet.
PM
The art of poetry
is so unique,
in and of itself—-
and cannot compare it; to nothing else,
very much an art form,
that is both unorthodox; and the norm,
a synergy in the midst of the storm,
impressive and expressive—-
and open to much interpretations,
yet greatly addressing; the very creative attributes,
with no need of any corrections,
poetic constructs and inventions—-
that have every intention,
of not only standing out,
but to know and experience,
what poetry is all about—-
and again being,
like nothing else,
for poetry is a wonder—-
Of the art itself.
PM
An ode
To poetry,
And to all the pens that wrote
Many beginnings of poetry
But with no end in sight
With a deep respect to all of the poems
That they decided to write
And a firm salute also to all of the poets
That came before me
For alas,
The art of poetry that stems from the past
Garnered and seen in the present
And aimed towards the unknown future
Just waiting to be created
For every stroke of the pen
For every word that was penned
And the ink from a bottle
Settled in the glass and ready to
Amass many poems to come
And with much variety that will
Undeniably,
And unequivocally,
Ink poetic and literary filled lines
Betwixt the poem and poet
And even moreso,
When they constellate and articulate
Poetry as wide as the mickle sky
For poetry will always be
Concupiscible,
As the poets of old
Clearly conveyed
As art in motion
Swift and bonded
While channeling a sincere connection
To the paper and pen
As poetry being invented
Even more and hitherto,
Poetic ideas dreamt of
Made present and feathered
From this,
With deep and free flowing penmanship
PM
Entering the doorway into a place
Where artists truly meet
Live and breathe
And with hopes to succeed
With their particular talents or skill sets
Upon various degrees
A passage with permission to enter
Into the world of artistry
An invitation also granted
For the pure artists to be free
Their passion and antics
You will see or fondly read
Their creative and imaginative works
Felt and allowed to just be
A welcoming admission
For them to go on an artistic spree
A way in so that they
Can be accepted and never have to flee
And an open gate into the great unknown
With their heart as the artistic key
A little song, a little dance
Wearing art as romance
Bathing in its light
And staying in the best trance
If done without limits
And given the best chance
For what artist under these conditions
Wouldn’t head towards this entrance
PM
POETICMOBILITY 