Princess Misled:
Poems for Preteens:

Kissed a bunch of frogs
They were still frogs in the end.
Kissed toads, until warts grew
Why is what you're looking for
Always in the last place you look
I asked myself.?

I needed my Prince
Oh how I needed my hero.
Ready to give up, I drank
Potions from the last cauldron.
About to call it a life.

My Fairy Godmother
Was a Witch.....
I Was under her spell
Still I searched once
Again to no avail.

One last kiss did I perform
To my surprise this last frog
Transformed; When the
Prince saw me, with warts
On my skin: Mission
Completed as this now my end.

The moral of the story is as clear
As can be, Mono or ****** is not
Worth the risk.
The toads that you kiss...
May not be so charming; Fairy Tale
Metaphors, may prove be alarming.

Real Princesses, go home
When they leave the ball,,
The Prince was not very happy, not
Happy at all: He ran away screaming...
"Ladies and Princesses should never kiss frogs "

Daily upon the screen
I seeith young men
Sent off to war;
As tis I seeith the greedy men
Getting rich from them
As tis I thinkest,
What for?



CONTROL.......



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Come on ! Come on !
Let's go ! . . .
row upon row
do the red poppies grow

Red ! Red !
the petal fed
taken from the lives
of the young and dead

The white bones
bleached of dreams
and forgotten sins ,
everything

Row upon row
of white the markers go
drenched in poppies
the dead in red grow

Bleached bone dreams
no breath
no whispers of "dear"
that death's spear pierced

Their's , no longer
the years , the fears , and tears
where the red poppies grow
row upon row

On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.

I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.

All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.

To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?

Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?

No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~

Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.

Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.

Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance

To the goal of the heart.

---

You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.

A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.

Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!

But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?

"The Ultimate Peerer"

darkened eyes, a loss of sparkle
hardened by the starkest heart
marvel at the harmful parcel
imparted scars starting to part

discarded stars, embarking targets
barred from the starving art
pardoned by departing darkness
that was ardent from the start


(in a crescendo poem, the vowel sound you are working with must build up to a peak in intensity(crescendo), by increasing that vowel sound with each line, then gradually decreasing in the second stanza. for example, here i use /ar/ sounds...2 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and 4 in the fourth line...then in second stanza, use same count backwards, like 4 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and two in the last line...it can have a scheme of 1-2-3-4, then 4-3-2-1 or whatever, as long as it gradually reaches a peak(crescendo), and then gradually decreases. both stanzas must match in the amount of vowel sounds used)