Last Edited Allegory Poems (62)

Look at our birth - does it ever seem a curse?
Or a miracle that happens - nothing more?
Does our time go on endlessly - or worse?
Or does full life time break us like a whore?
All that I hope, - is we should find some peace -
All that I hope, - is from our life's rich store -
Is that our dreams will go on endlessly;-
Or when life ends - so does our suffering.

We cast our eyes across time's boundless sea
We cast our eyes afar - then ask for more.
Look into the sky - vast blue infinity -
Or look back - to the days and years of yore.
Look back in time and see rich history -
Then look ahead - what has destiny in store? -
To seize this cherished snowflake's chosen moment -
To love and hold what we have this instant.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Cadenced footsteps quicken
A jangle of keys
Now freedom and release.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Within the blood-red nature of this rose,
Runs sap of life - without impediment,
A scarlet ruffle, in the sunshine grows,
Amidst the thorns of our bewilderment,
That blooms in Spring, before the Winter snows,
Banish Autumn, and the flowers' raiment,
To Time;- as long forgotten love affairs;-
Her billets-doux, the wind takes unawares.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

August’s knocking with rain at the pane – soon it’s school once again,
Soon it’s autumn and yellow umbrella – time to early get up.
Burrow face into these rainy torrents, streaming down the pane in a current,
Take this all the way as it is – nothing more to expect.
Burrow face into these rainy torrents, streaming down the pane in a current,
Take this all the way as it is – nothing more to expect.

It’s just autumn, don’t fear, don’t fear,
It’s just autumn and showers from morn.
It’s just autumn and twilight’s at eight,
And playing of wind for the thirteenth time.
It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time,
It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time.

Don’t be sad in the fall when remembering summery days,
Past the one year mark, well you know, they are back once again.
As it is make a friend of wet weather, of a gloomy and gray rainy daylight,
Let alone those cold drops on the windows on autumnal days.
As it is make a friend of wet weather, of a gloomy and gray rainy daylight,
Let alone those cold drops on the windows on autumnal days.

It’s just autumn, don’t fear, don’t fear,
It’s just autumn and showers from morn.
It’s just autumn and twilight’s at eight,
And playing of wind for the thirteenth time.
It’s just autumn …
It’s just autumn …

It’s just autumn, don’t fear, don’t fear,
It’s just autumn and showers from morn.
It’s just autumn and twilight’s at eight,
And playing of wind for the thirteenth time.

It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time,
It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time,
It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time,
It’s just autumn for the thirteenth time,
It’s just autumn …

These few words I write
Are stripped as bare as Winter
Haiku poetry


© lovecanbereal

Should I drop u a note
naturally, l am eating alone
waiting on a bowl of gumbo.
Ur a no-show
screwing in the shadows
likely doing the three famous maestros
Larry, Curly, and I hope
U choke
on Moe.
I'm sorry but feeling pretty low
I'm losing my Piedmont pillow
I remember u long ago
u tried to corner the market playing the blues on a banjo
Made sense maybe since lock-in a cellar sits a dusty jazz piano
Then lockjaw denies u fame and fortune blowing
the piccolo
always known for ur solos
this was before wearing out ur welcome on the cello,
Started as a joke
writing "Ode
to The Twilight Zone"
staring the fallen saint, Billie Joe
the story goes
before fleeing on rails like a hobo
down Mt. Kilimanjaro
she had an episode
losing her halo
slipping from her dome
while dipping her bent toe
into the dark cosmos
but caught the eye of fire breathing hippo
in mid-pounce feasting on a giant translucent minnow.
yet the halo plunged like an oscillating dildo
topping the speed of light (what did Einstein know),
when heading for ground zero
but caught on film in slow-mo.
Oddly snatched up by a swooping sparrow,
but dropped like a dirty ho
on seeing a dancing scarecrow
doing the tango
with a Hispanic hallucinating gringo.
Never scare off any black feather bedfellows
Each of them has a mind of their own
Scavengers are at home
grilling up some squirming lizard toads.
on the sunbaked back roads,
like on US 95 thru Mosco
not in Russia but Idaho
and yet the halo continued to roll
for years though God only knows
till it finally landed in Chicago
on the Antiques Roadshow
shown off by an old crone
or was it Saint Billie Joe
incognito
sporting a big nose
who lived alone
making a cameo?
Drooling over its host
a fat sweaty long fellow
who smelled like pork roast.
Sampled his ear lobe
on milk buttered toast
out doing Van Gogh
mesmerized by horizons aglow
but tripping on too much ginkgo.
Anyway, my hat off to those
poor blokes,
seeing nothing that doesn't show
dreaming of giving up the ghost
depending on the cash flow
soon on the back of an icy slope
surfing down the hills of Glasgow
yet these days at end of their rope
with necktie yokes
now a foot off the flo,
swinging low
to the tune of Desperado
fading in/out on solid-state radio.
Again, the Silent Telephone
landmines another mofo!

naked Winter trees
thrashed by freezing wind and rain
now bearing Spring buds

be it couples , be it elements ,
be it fire , be it water .
Always there is a mystery to them ,
the opposites.
their existence baffled many ,
baffled philosophy , baffled science .
some exist in conflict , some in harmony ,
the opposites.
ying yang , positive and negative ,
good and evil , light and dark .
balancing one another since the dawn of eons ,
the opposites.
in the origin with the big bang , in the every existing atom ,
in the age of the cave man , in the age of the modern man.
they were with the dawn of the universe and will be there till it ends ,
the opposites.

cool beneath the palms
one bourbon, one scotch, one beer
ripples in the sand

dance me a samba
la fiesta in the rain
swirl of a red dress

from the heights they came
fine gossamer on the wind
seeking exodus

Let Me Play >
In Your Garden
Where The Warm Lily Grows
Swollen In Time
Up Through The Moist Grass
Wet With Dew