The Language Of The Soul

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“Poetry is the language of the soul;

Poetic Prose, the language of my heart.

Each line must flow as in a song,

and strike a chord that rings forever.

To me, words are music!”

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― Lori R. Lopez

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Elfje:           (Cinquain)

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swearing

in vain

not an oath

very poor language skills

vulgarities

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Haiku:

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crickets loud chirping

pollen thick enough to see

soon summer will bloom

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Poem:

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he skipped the rock across the pond
reflecting how his life did the same
with each touch ripples were spawned
like scions to carry on the family name

the undulations distorted his reflection
his memory was likewise confused
wandering, he sought some direction
his soul was very tired and abused

he was not growing old gracefully
he regretted the youth he had wasted
the ego was always acting ostentatiously
his habit was to always be inebriated

could there be another way of living
would another fox hole prayer work
should the world be forgiving
was this the prelude to going berserk

in real life there are no coincidences
a man with a plan crossed his path
just another of God’s mysterious incidents
a solution to calming his insane wrath

there was a book to give him guidance
a fellowship to welcome him home
he learned to live within the silence
how to survive the complex syndrome

holding on to his new found discovery
enjoying the life of a blessed recovery

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ME and the Boss

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https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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https://meandtheboss.com

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Nonsense

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“If I had a world of my own,

everything would be nonsense.

Nothing would be what it is,

because everything would be 

what it isn’t.

And contrary wise, what is, 

it wouldn’t be.

And what it wouldn’t be,

it would.

You see?”

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~ Lewis Carroll

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Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

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Elfje:

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diametric

opposite worlds

inverse to reverse

assumed to be real

nonsense

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Haiku

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the jabberwocky

doesn’t need make any sense

natures world does

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Poem:

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poetry so serious
the truth so mysterious
thinking outside of the box
being as sly as a fox

do poems need to be true
words all mixed up like a stew
having fun piquing one’s imagination
choosing a lyric that is thracian

defining the poets little world by writing
avoiding the mundane by trying to be exciting
making it up as they go along
glad to know that they can’t be wrong

those who can’t rhyme as they compose
justify the effort by calling it poetic prose
the poem should always be a total performance
even when the content is gobbledygook nonsense

believe, you are a poet, you simply don’t know it
just pretend that you’re building a banana split
so write, write, the words precisely right
and allow your soul to take flight.

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ME and the Boss

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don’t know what from this might be,

just made it up ….

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