bee the buzz
from Flora juices
Bee delighted about
intoxication.
Sip a lip the same
frame of forever.
bee filled with hop
budof hope & wonder
sought to fascinate
mundane pollinate.
Too bee sets shadow
seekless when Spring.
Bee mindful in offering
ambrosia cotton surround
Sound of solitude. bee life
the allergic unconscious.
by SPAHR PLOPS
© All rights reserved 2017
Damn! Quotes are such a tricky thing. Especially ones without a context. I’m always very careful with quotations. Yes, I see a question in your eyes. “Why is she whining here?” It’s easy.
I was recently invited by my friends to take part in the ‘03 days 03 quotes challenge’ party and I said, “YAY! Thank you! Of course, you can count on me!”
Prakash Hegade, Sheldon Kleeman, Ethel Beckett!
Thank you, my dear friends!
Rules:
1) Post 1 quotation a day for 3 days.
2) Nominate 3 other bloggers to participate per post.
3) Thank the blogger who nominated you.
But when I started to write my first post for this challenge I realized the scale of my problem. I’ve since changed my mind three times before opening my rough draft dated June 27 to write these lines.
Of course, it’s not a big deal to find some cool quotes from some cool famous guys and be happy with my own coolness. I even spent about an hour searching for them. But then I suddenly understood that hiding behind other people’s famous words isn’t something that I consider a really cool thing. That was my first thought.
My second thought was to use my own quotes from my various essays and poems. It’s not very modest but at least I could always take responsibility for this bullshit. I’m glad that I didn’t start to do this because I liked my third thought much more…
I don’t want to use famous quotes. I don’t want to use my quotes. My friends! My community! My dearest Writers and Readers! Let me use your quotes!
I was nominated three times, so I will take three quotes and their authors will be my nominees. All agree? Excellent! Let’s go!
Grandpa asked why
I talked to his veggies
said I didn’t know
Didn’t know
how to say
Veggies don’t hurt meMichael Spahr, ‘Grandpa Had A Garden’
One day,
when it’s time for me to go,
I won’t cry.
I will look back on all these days I got to spend,
and I will smile.
I’ll be glad that I’ve had the chance,
to be alive,
and all in all,
that I’ve lived
a pretty good life.PROSPERMIND, ‘A pretty good life’
Writers write for they are egomaniacs,
A fancy poem our soul’s aphrodisiac.
Spinning words, the most heinous temptation,
Desperation for eternity our only salvation.Obsidian Visionary, ‘Writer’s Dissolution’
Hmmm… Yes!
The end.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015
Don’t let gray
get grayer
graver could go
but I hope for
a reddy heady
bun babble about
anything peelable like
clementine counters
She set a coaster
and a cup of sweet
southern, lime over
lemon – already had
freshly started morning
sips of perky breath
blown my way
My direction
eventually persuaded
realized wrongful waste
thanks to her taste
full of ambiance
But mostly smiled then
because she said
“Don’t be such an ass”
by SPAHR PLOPS
© All rights reserved 2015
Today I’m happy to show you my new collaboration with my enigmatic and transcendental friend, the wizard of unseen and inscrutable things, Spahr Plops.
This collaboration was conceived by Michael and I many months ago.
It could have been published and forgotten about by now…
But it had its own character and authentic view regarding when it should be born. It was evolving according to its own plan… and it left the poetical womb at the proper time.
Michael, thank you!
Thank you for this space journey!
I’m ready for new adventures with you, because I know that the Guide to the Galaxy is always in your pocket.
I hear how fishes sing
I know how stones sting
I see blossoming of bones
and unlimited zones
Like a chakra
crawling up ya
I hear skin scratch
lightly dusted weeps
heavy with energy
a thousand times
I do feel funny
wrestling wind
I spin like a whirligig
in my static poise
I take a huge swig
of liquid turquoise
My umbilical cord
is a root of the chord
which vibrates inside
my resonant mind
Tells tales of mountainside
madness, alerted when too much
learned how to ride bikes there
letting naturalness sway my course
can’t always recall where
I need to cite the source
Convulsions torture my cramped calves
I don’t have time to be by halves!
…my zero hour to reassume
a risk of falling from the womb
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & SPAHR PLOPS
© All rights reserved 2015
Something happens somewhere. Between heart beats, between pulse throbs… something happens between you and me. I inhale.
Suddenly serendipity
haven’t yet had
morning coffee
and already fingers
freely streaming
my sleepy feeling
can’t dissuade
What am I feeling?
A fragile lotus
arouses from
the innermost recesses
of me
Its petals glimmer
They spire through sleepy slough
My core breaks
into bloom
What am I feeling?
I’m endlessly grateful to Spahr Plops, an amazing poet and my great friend, for this collaboration. It was really transcendental experience. It was insight. It was a breath-holding poem. I exhale…
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & SPAHR PLOPS
© All rights reserved 2014
unbolt me 