Not Twelve

I haven’t written po’try in awhile.

I’ve been too busy doing other things.

But when I saw your sweet and lucid smile

I had to try to put words to your wings.

But how do I describe the way you laugh?

That belly-borrowed hoot by human owl —

And how do I explain the many maths

That greet me when I try to sate your scowl?

So try, might, I to put your grace to words,

I fail at this again, again, again.

It’s almost like my vision swiftly blurred

As soon as I applied my page to pen.

Instead, my words fall far short of your truth.

I can't describe your beauty or your youth.

Eleven

She loves me so devotedly and true.

That I say she has never loved before.

And I'm not sure exactly what to do.

It's only me who she seems to adore

I know my lover loves me by the look

Upon her face when I tell her goodbye.

She doesn’t even beg for a reprieve.

In fact, my lady then begins to cry.

And when I begged her hand she wept and wept.
The tears just kept on coming whilst she sobbed.

For I’m the secret that she never kept.

But somehow I feel like I'm being jobbed.

But what did you just say? She cannot stand?

My adoration or my withered hand?

Ten

The forest seems so very much alive.

It’s all connected in myster'yous ways.

And though you scorch her surface, she survives.

The heart of what is here cannot be phased.

It speaks in ways no ear could ever hear.

In chemicals and quantum particles.

When just one plant is damaged there are tears

It’s true according to some articles.

So when you hurt the forest there is pain.

Everything has feelings you must see.

Together they rejoice when there is rain.

And sunny days do fill them all with glee.

It's quantum on an elemental scale.

Entangled trees throughout the hidden vale.

Nine

An empty-hearted person would abstain

From any future conquests of the soul.

A river flowing backward through my brain.

And suddenly I lose complete control.

If you’re like me you’re losing half your mind.

Trying to keep busy and keep safe.

And any self-improvement you should find

Well, it’s a chance to grow and to replace.

The days all melt together when you’re home

Though Isolation fits you like a shoe.

You’ve prob’ly heard the saying ‘When in Rome.’

Do unto Caesar that which he is due.

But did you know that Nero had a lyre?

The last thing we could see there through the fire.

Eight

Eros’ quill of arrows through my soul.

A feeling that can never be defined.

As lustful as a story ever told.

Of creatures, gods and people... and their lies.

I’m not surprised it took a couple blows.

My heart has always hardened at first sight

But when I saw your face I swear it froze.

And arrows from a cherub got me right.

It built, in me, a welling of desire.

A wanting and a yearning for your all.

You, nude, in all your beauty and your fire.

That burns for me and no one else at all.

And Cupid said we’d love forever more.

A lie he’s likely told a time before.

Seven

Familiar wafts of scent flow from her hair—

A hug elicits flashbacks in your mind.

A Pink Floyd concert back in ‘94—

A moment frozen in its place and time.

Her breasts, pressed against your chest as if

She wants to send a message with her bust.

And suddenly you recall regal riffs

Which play inside your head. Their lovely lust—

You wonder if she ever hears them too.

An eavesdrop on the workings of your brain—

And if she did then what on Earth she’d do.

To know your thoughts, she’d think you were insane.

You wonder about asking her to dance.

Then later hear about her gay romance.

Six

Whenever I feel grateful I exclaim:

“I’m thankful for this bounty and this hoard.”

Though I’m a poor man still I must proclaim”

“I’m glad for what I have—that I’m adored.”

For who can be a poor man with these gifts?

To make sense of the world as few else can?

And pen with neither quill nor paper this:

An eloquent proposal for the land.

But you approach and spread your nega-vibes.

And try and paint my mood with breaths of yours.

Try as you may I will not thus subside.
I will not wade into those darkened moors.

But life is seldom more than what you know

I can’t believe you’d try to steal my glow.

Go

Go beyond

You think you can

You can do it,

Magic man

Go far beyond

The binds that tie

You can do it

If you try

Five

Whenever there is sorrow there is pain

And in-between them moments you could fly

And I just get this feeling in my brain

That I can make a difference ere I die.




And that's what motivates me, thus, to grow.

I'm learning how to be much more of me.

I'm trying to learn all there is to know.

I want my eyes to do much more than see.




To see in steepéd wisdom is the plan—

To be equipped to do much more for change—

I have to spread my message through the land

The times we all are in are super strange.

A sad and sorry state we all are in.

Humanity has thrived to its chagrin.

Four

Never have I been the least bit sane,

Nor have I ever stooped to feign to be.

When I hear you say “Stay within your lane.”

Well, that just doesn’t make much sense to me.

Because I have no lane love, I’m the road

Going in both directions all at once.

You see the path I’m on is barely strode.

There isn’t any other to confront.

But I should now expect this from you, dear.

You always underestimate me at your risk.

For I shall always triumph, do you hear?

And you will be left spinning like a disk.

There is no lane or path I will not take.

And thus I’ll leave you trembling in my wake.

Benjamin Stone's books on Goodreads

Close to My Heart

Pesto

I have enough basil now.

It’s time to make pesto.

My homemade pesto

Pleases every palette

It has the perfect amount of everything

And everything marries together well.

I saute the shrimp and I boil the penne

A little garlic because too much is not a thing.

Pour in the pesto and just get it hot.

My secret? A ladle of the pasta water

All those starches — 

Mixed up in the sauce

Big bowl

Combine.

Fresh parmesan and Heaven.