Butter white chalk milk viscous thick cream in a glass silk smooth it runs slow purposeful like feline it stalks soured puss lost by mouse it hones in on butter white chalk milk glides heavy sleek coating throat drown downpour like slow-mo milk rain spout buttermilk yellow white fermented chalk milk bellyfull mouth full now.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Did you know I could stay here all day?
writing and wasting away
words keep coming
releasing a gorge
an orgy of thumping dancing syllables surge
playing on my tongue, jumping in my head
begging to display.
I love this feeling, intensity and healing
pleasing my body with lusciousness reeling,
bleeding from my mouth to my page.
Did you know I could stay here all day?
penning and pining, bated breath reclining
waiting, for something to say.
it’s nighttime now, but time is out of place
when images are flying, bouncing from space
to grace this page alive,
with such disgrace
emboldened, completely burning away.
Did you know I could stay here all day?
©️Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels
Original Post first blogged on Feb. 9th 2020
This poem came up, when my wife and I were talking about how fast time goes by, when you are in that flow of creativity as an artist. And, I wrote this as an expression of that experience, and damnit, it’s hard to pull ones self away from that flow, to attend to the ever nagging “tasks”, that prey on me, on a daily basis. This will forever be my love and my potential demise, I suppose. arggghh!
#Poetry #Rhymes #Healing #Writing
I cannot explain to you the heart and the stone
they are configured different but feel same for some
cold smooth and hardened, a heart can become
the stone in the hand that bled out your soul
cast by judgement, by seaside you roam
the heart feels heavy like a weighted stone.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Ivo Raeber on Unsplash
#Micropoem #Stone #Heart #Judgement
living in this world today to wonder
about and pray of not dying
the living live in constant death
and of love and of fear intertwined
like a ball of yarn spun then dropped
in dismay.
living in this world today to ponder
away the life given in love and lust
and sometimes in rage, doped up
by the news bitten from hate.
living in this world today to squander
the love born yesterday to strangle
the innocence of nuance and play.
living in this world today to blunder
the blessing of angels and saints who
deliver from evil the human decay
‘a life worth living’ is what they say
however you cut it, don’t piss it away.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by sergio souza from Pexels
#Poetry #Freeverse #Life #Living #Love
A Chinese Moon
A Chinese moon revealed a
fools desire
ravenously my eyes bespeak
tranquility is
the ocean-bed
the flesh-plumes velvet
petals end.
I first posted this poem on this blog back on December 30th 2018, but I wrote it many years prior to having this blog, while my son Adrian and I, were deep into playing some fun poetry words games. Hope you enjoyed it!
Happy Monday!
Photo by Just Another Photography Dude from Pexels
#Micropoetry #Moon #Reboot
©️Jay Mora-Shihadeh
There are days where endless talk just stops. It quells the spells of bickering in the house. The moon waits for curtain call to unveil its presentation of the blue, the harvest, the wolf, the red, the many moons above. Love lost on the moon, unimpressed with the fray. Day lingers, seamless gray. Attention brought eyes to stray, the burnt grass, the brown, the solemn day. Fickle he is to fitter away the black oceans, the starlight, the peck peck pecking of flamingoes, in the gulf’s bay. Moon oh moon! Star oh star! Frighten me not, love far. Dry grass and pavement clayed, broken, shards left to shambles, in disarray. The macadam in ruins, the buried graves. The endless talk breaks the day.
Photo by Jan Tinneberg on Unsplash
#Prose #Poetry #Verse
Happy to announce my poem “Sir Robin” was accepted at Spillwords Press (NYC) for publication on January 30th. Stop by to read the full poem and visit some other great writers and poets while your there!
Spillwords.com presents: Sir Robin, a poem by Jay Mora-Shihadeh, who was born in the greater metropolitan area of Philadelphia, Pa.
Source: Sir Robin, a poem by Jay Mora-Shihadeh at Spillwords.com
