I probably shouldn't post work in developement....I can get overly fussy and frustrated. Does anyone else ever have such moments?
the thermite lies
fueling wars
burnt on the papyrus
of smoldering covenants.
They serve mooncakes
on plastic plates
provided by connivance
through political contrivance.
Nor can I ignore
a history that bore
the men destined
in their descent-
to pass on the diadems
from dynastic consanguinity.
While others lay slain
in the wake of a potentates' war.
The sod is older,
sown with hearts
grown colder,
in days encased
in icicled apathy.
Some exist in cages
in artful inadequacy,
accumulating faults and failures
of meaningless summations.
It's any number's nightmare
when compared
to a standard deviation
still lurking
in a crystal ball.
But humans are not numbers.
One can never be
just a fixed number's mean.
Like protons and electrons,
Most of us just want to co-exist,
joined in ionic or covalent bonds.
And some are so independent-
they shine too brightly,
like electrically charged Neon
that stands alone and never bonds.
All shall feel the vibrating energy
fulfilling each timely breath-
And our existence
is the experience
of life and death-
Like networks confined by
conduits and circuit breakers,
Even static electricity
can preserve the potential
to create a spark.
Love is a light
that initiates
the first pulse
felt in a heart.
Love is the sum
from the one
holding your hand
when you die.
Love is the escort
of a journey's soul
to a place of open windows
where none never say goodbye.
Poetry by Clara Mae Gregory
Read 11 times
Written on 2026-08-12 at 20:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
LOVE'S POLARITIES VERSION 3
I decrythe thermite lies
fueling wars
burnt on the papyrus
of smoldering covenants.
They serve mooncakes
on plastic plates
provided by connivance
through political contrivance.
Nor can I ignore
a history that bore
the men destined
in their descent-
to pass on the diadems
from dynastic consanguinity.
While others lay slain
in the wake of a potentates' war.
The sod is older,
sown with hearts
grown colder,
in days encased
in icicled apathy.
Some exist in cages
in artful inadequacy,
accumulating faults and failures
of meaningless summations.
It's any number's nightmare
when compared
to a standard deviation
still lurking
in a crystal ball.
But humans are not numbers.
One can never be
just a fixed number's mean.
Like protons and electrons,
Most of us just want to co-exist,
joined in ionic or covalent bonds.
And some are so independent-
they shine too brightly,
like electrically charged Neon
that stands alone and never bonds.
All shall feel the vibrating energy
fulfilling each timely breath-
And our existence
is the experience
of life and death-
Like networks confined by
conduits and circuit breakers,
Even static electricity
can preserve the potential
to create a spark.
Love is a light
that initiates
the first pulse
felt in a heart.
Love is the sum
from the one
holding your hand
when you die.
Love is the escort
of a journey's soul
to a place of open windows
where none never say goodbye.
Poetry by Clara Mae Gregory
Read 11 times
Written on 2026-08-12 at 20:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
