acceptinggrandmaspoetry    
   
       
       

Poetry
accepting
grandmas

Art by Wicks
Poetry 7   

   
 
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    accepting the blue poetry

 ACCEPTING THE BLUE

Misted shoreline
Perceptions altered
As memories fade
To walk on
dry land
Residing in the
vast sea
Threatened as waters rise
Struggles fruitless
Intellect found wanting
Spying the beacon
gives birth to courage
Raising hands
He accepts the blue

© Dale Wicks

   
   
   
Poetry  

   

CHOOSING PATH

 Fill the void...apply to infected area...the balm of Gilead...have you been had?...you can count me in that number...of those who slumbered...in candyland amid ice castles...where all appeared sweet and glistened...then I listened...with ears to hear...when the rain came...washing my castles way...making everything sticky...and I was stuck...and had to buck...with all the pluck, I could muster...so don't judge by luster...and all that glitters isn't gold...do what your told...stay in the fold...if you can't handle the truth...cause the truth is out there...or is it?...Either way you've got to take care...be on the ware...I'm just yanking your chain...there be more for you than against you...who can catch leviathan on a hook? who can fillet said creature and grill?...what am I getting at? buy low, sell high...don't put on socks until their dry...or hang head heaving heavy sigh...or beseeching pretty blue but empty skies...you've already got all you'll get and you need inside...

 

© Dale Wicks
 

   
   



ALWAYS IN MY HEART

never quite sanguine...situated twixt rocky and certain...heaven and hell...drawing water, down a well...beating out rhythms...expand and contract...move forward, then fall back...a two step of sorts...suspended animation...endless gyration...forlorn situation...break it down...squeeze the juice...pour perfume out...what's to lose?...Pavlovian response?...sitting here in limbo?...move it out...take the bull by the horns...take best shot, no concern for the scorn...freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose...or settle back ...accept your caste...part in play...the role of pawn...or cog in wheel...or ruling lord...perhaps its ideal...the beating returns...like the beat of a drum...you're at the oars...stroke, stroke, stroke...is all you hear...is this unclear?...what's destiny got to do with it?...who's in charge?...what's the motive?...are you happy...why not?...what're you going do about it?....drink or toke a contentment?...become more religious?...hope in political process ?.. plenty of pied pipers poised to play...and lead you away...to wash your brain...rinse...and repeat...

© Dale Wicks

   



THE OFFERED HAND

Puts out a hand .. the man that stills the water...what can't you stand...do you prefer the choppy seas...respect of persons...adorned in thy infernal loves...descend like doves...to defecate in your high tea...you quip, I thank thee...rules and regulations...thy path of menstruation...leaves one trapped in life without...but dead within...where's the sincerity...when surface speaks verily...in depths replies, except for me...and of the half hearted...you split in two...warring halves...man pleaser, bow to Caesar...also one who sees the light...it is right...you wrestle in the night...one must rise victorious...either thine wellspring or thy plight. who will say which is right? .. of this there's much contention...I'm of the convention...you must know, realize...the truth be shown...seen clearly in your eyes.

© Dale Wicks

 

accepting  

not your grandma's chicken poetry

NOT YOUR GRANDMAS CHICKEN

It was lunchtime when I saw you
Peering back thru saucer eye
I was eating processed you
Your eccentric plumage
A vision, a story
referring to the glory
You were crossing that road
The road of life
Moving against the grain
I saw no strain
in your ever watching eye
I took a bite of you
Meditated while I chewed
Wondering as the mystery grew
Pulse pounding til my mind just blew
You seemed fine on that other side
Why is it that you risked your hide
If not for strangers, I would have cried
To discover what was not known
Out of the coop you must have grown
Twas motive enough for crossing the road

© Dale Wicks

 

   
   

                            
    erosion with poem

 EROSION

The wind in its way
Does erode the external
and expose to the light
what's within

© Dale Wicks

   
Grandmas      
       
   

                                          
  comforted with poem

    COMFORTED

Embracing each other
the schism negated
left nothing to ponder
except why they waited

© Dale Wicks
 

   
chicken      
Erosion  
world pop

POP YOUR WORLD

You can pop your world
Just an illusion
Inflated by choice
Seen as hard by conclusion

Many can't hear this
The ones that should mind
Surrounded by image
To the rest...quite blind

Glad it seems clear
Tho "it" makes life a chore
While enthralling the masses
This constant spinning's a bore.

         
© Dale Wicks    

( to those who whole-heartedly pursue the emptiness and have become empty, the vanity of fulfillment through the exalted concepts of the world. )

   
       
   
comforted      
   


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