The little thrill as the wave’s ripple in
Making the hairs stand up, on the surface of my skin.
The kiss of the sun with its warm breath so light
As it soothes my skin with warmth and delight.
The sand rolls around where my hands touch it soft.
The water rolls back and forth carrying pebbles aloft.
Setting shells down with rolling grains of sand
Making minute rivers run from the fingers of my hand.
The blue of the sky so pale and so pretty
On the horizon I can see the outline of the city.
Birds bob on by walking in the sand,
Not caring that I’m there lying on their land.
Curiously watching me, little eyes darting here and there
Watching for what, I don’t know or care.
A tiny emerald green beetle scuttles on past
Taking no notice of me, but from the birds, rushes on fast.
The sun is setting; it’s time to go back
The tide has come in but it needs to get back
The coastguard come out and asks so polite
Please can you move, the tide needs to leave tonight.
You have laid there so long, blocking the way
Can you please go back - so the water can flow away?
The ships need to sail and the trawlers come in
But you are blocking the way as you are not that thin.
September I gazed outside with unease
When I heard it will fall in the sixties.
Then dad said we’ll soon be losing degrees;
To me these things sounded like tragedies.
Why do we have say bye to degrees?
I never knew they were our enemies.
Tell me the truth ‘cause I hate when you tease.
I’m begging you, dad, I need to know please?
I dreamed degrees were no bigger than fleas
That could saddle up on the backs of bees,
And buzz along in rows of twos and threes
Then vanish amongst the tallest of trees.
Dad replied, you’ll learn it all by degrees,
So I gave up on him and asked Louise
To see if she knew much about degrees.
My sister said they’re in geometry.
She drew a large L, and said this big cheese
Is a right angle; called ninety degrees.
Angles take their shape by connecting these
Points together, denoted with ABC’s.
Right angles were proved by Isosceles,
And two of them are complimentary.
Whatever this had to do with degrees
Was another of life’s big mysteries.
I pictured angles of many degrees
Popping out from books of geometry.
As gulls that appear as a flock of vees
Flying above all of the seven seas.
I then asked my mom, can you help me please
Concerning my questions about degrees?
Sure, hon, she said, see those sugar cookies
They baked at three hundred fifty degrees.
Oh my goodness mom, you say that all these
Are as hot as the sun without a breeze?
Of course not, silly, there only cookies;
They’re made to raise money for charities.
I thought if the sun was made of cookies?
Of course I’d prefer that better than peas.
But anyways, would the universe freeze?
Whether out of cookies, or peas, or cheese?
Since I was still puzzled about degrees
I ran back upstairs, with difficulties.
Knowing my brother was sick with disease,
I crawled in his room on both hands and knees.
Dad was there too, but his face showed worries
Tom’s temp reached over one hundred degrees.
So I touched his forehead, and thought, oh jeez
It would melt bowls of M&M candies.
I imagined if Tom had to sneeze,
Would the juice burn through the land and seas?
And make it all the way to the Chinese;
Would it infect all their towns and cities?
To Dad’s home office I went ill at ease
And when dad came in I asked him if he’s
Going to lower Tom’s hundred degrees?
Dad said don’t worry, he has expertise.
He showed me one of his MD degrees
That you can earn at Universities.
He said if Tom rests and catches some zees
He’ll soon be totally free of disease.
I thought instead of Universities
I’d join the circus and learn the trapeze,
Or perhaps be a clown so that I can squeeze
Into a small car that runs without keys.
I think on that day I learned by degrees
That they can cook, and measure disease.
Fit on the wall, are in geometry
Yet I’m perplexed to the umpteenth degree.
I'm like a one-eyed cat peepin' in a seafood sto'
I'm like a one-eyed cat peepin' in a seafood sto'
Well I can look at you and tell you ain' no child no mo'
A few interpretations for this visually challanged and rather paranoid creature:
Still makes me hungry just don't LOOK good as it used to or
Still smells good, just ain't sure what I'm SMELLIN' no more or
Don't LOOK good as it used to, Don't SMELL good as it used to and
Definitely don't TASTE good as it used to or...
I was born that way, so what? or
Used to have two, now I only got one and
That's all you need to peep with anyways and
I think that's all you got left too so...
Let's put our eyes together on this thing and
Let's sneak over there and tom-peep that hole and
You peep on the women seafood and tell me about it and
I'll peep on the men seafood and tell you about it and...
Wait a minute here, something's not...
No, no I'm not gay! I swear I'm not!
I know by the above verse it might appear that way but
I swear to god! I swear to god I never...
Alright now, this has gone JUST ABOUT FAR ENOUGH and
You can't hardly tell them apart anyway and
The men don't even have one...they just kinda sprinkle, you know and
The rest just...How do I know? Well I-uh...read it somewhere and...
Oh, just kiss my big you-know-what! and
Wait!...I-I mean...if you're a FEMALE fish you can or a lady uh...
Oyster? Or girl crab or ..Hey, stop that!...Ow!
I didn't say...Ouch! Why you!...(Sigh) let's try this again, shall we?
Sorry folks...Just had to get this out of my system...Hope you think it's funny and
What?... WELL!! Kiss my-my uh...Elbow!...yeah, that's it! My elbow...
Bill Haley and the Comets became rich and famous for doing a 'sanitized' version of this song in 1954... Big Joe's original was considered too suggestive and sexual for white audiences...
Second verse for example:
'Way you wear those dresses, the sun come shinin' thru
Way you wear those dresses, the sun come shinin' thru
I can't believe my eyes all that mess belong to you'
(In 'proper' English: THE way you wear those dresses)
As I desire outside just at daybreak
Watch the sleepy sun rise in the mist
So I'll go out, get tools_leaves rake
An excuse to watch that sun rise_my risk
Then I see that one Pale Pink Running Rose
The one deserving its picture taken
I'll get the camera_rose will pose
Leaving chore__leaf raking forsaken
Maybe I'll cachinnate_hide from work
I'll beek in sun think of shenanigan
Go to creek_try to see fish through murk
Couchant posture dip fingers _ dawn began
The anacoluthia of these lines
Requires couchant posture very fine
Flesh on show and sun tan lotion
bodies laid on towels or sun lounges
By the ocean
Salty air wind blown hair
Music streaming from the near by fair
Baby screaming nappies full
Cool guys looking for babes on the pull
Sun shades and floppy hats
Grown men playing cricket with ball and bats
Sand castles and buckets and spades
Candy floss and lemonade
Father With binoculars pretending to look out to sea
Or read a newspaper but really looking at the bathing beauties
Bikinis and manknies G strings tight where the sun don't shine
Hot dogs and hamburgers the popping of corks from bottles of wine
Hairy legs and wrinkled skin
child almost drowning couldn't swim
Muscle bound Life guards with muscles to impress
Granma lost her false teeth
Dropped between her breasts
Ice creams and summer dreams
Young child peeing in the sea
Among the swimmers splashing about with glee
People playing beach ball and football
Mother calls come on all it's time for tea
Large Busty woman running like jelly on a plate
And nearly starting an earthquake
Sand between your toes
Sun burn on your nose
Sweaty arm pits sweaty bums
Toffee apples and bleeding gums
Sea gulls flying screeching high above
Clear blue sky pure white dove
Watching the frothy waves stretch upon the shore
Watching the horizon and tiny boats 10 miles away or more
Dogs running here and there
Sweets being passed around to share
Crabs and shrimps and other critters in a rocky pool
Children with fishing nets and jars to take them back to school
Para gliders pulled by speed boats high in the sky
Oh why do people want to risk life
As they could die
Postcards to write people on there bikes
The smell of fish and chips
Children with jam around their lips
Couples walking hand in hand barefoot on warm sand
Treasured memories and photo's to cherish
Suitcases packed feeling unwound and relaxed
Can't wait until next year when they come back.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. July.
I saw a man today who was walking with a cane,
His knee would give him trouble whenever it was going to rain.
On his knee’s prognostication you could place a bet,
If you saw him limping by you know that you’d get wet.
But if you saw him walking by with a spring in his step,
There were only two reasons that could account for his pep.
It could be that the sun is high and will continue shinning bright,
Or it could be that he got lucky when he went to bed last night.
So if you wanted to know if it was the sun or an amorous interlude,
You’d have to meet up with his wife and check her attitude.
Four palms, one taller, the other three measure the same.
Heavily anchored in sand, all are vertical climbers of this azure sky.
Eight new fronds per palm, the older ones neatly trimmed by man.
No cocoanuts anywhere to be seen, their hazard great, if allowed to fall.
Growing 40-50 feet tall, how many savage storms have they endured?
Lying on my back, I hear the unseen breezes giving voice to their action
as they manipulate the individual finger like fronds into undulating waves.
In the far and nearly vertical distance I see a moon in half-phase.
This reflection of the sun bisecting the geometry of the moon
made possible by none other than the very planet I lay upon.
One lonely cloud of no consequence is viewable. The pristine nature
of it all now rudely shattered by an absurdity. “Dusk to Dawn” barnyard lights
are lag bolted onto two palms. How incongruous this fit of barnyard lights
affixed to a palm in this tropical paradise.
Suddenly, the whispering of the tropical breeze is interrupted
by the staccato, whump, whump, whumping of a helicopter, all black and shiny.
Streaking parallel to the shore mimicking a news channel
coverage of a Bronco chase or the latest freeway jam. Now comes
the cacophony of a loudspeaker, calling out it’s “Bingo Time” for
the bored and soul-less, as it reverberates toward the beach from poolside.
The rhythmical lapsing of the waves on the shore is drowned out
by high-pitched adrenalin fed screams and twin 200 horse outboard exhausts.
A parasailer from Des Moines has caught the wind and traverses the sky.
Strapped in a chest harness while dangling precariously attached to multicolored bands of
nylon, he is praying the towrope doesn’t break.
My total sublimation again obliterated, this time by two nudists from Europe.
Heavy oiling barely covers her lack of cups and his cajones are swinging free.
Nuts and knockers that haven’t seen the sun for eons will certainly
ache for emollient caresses tonight. Those mental images will play in my mind
like a never-ending mobious strip of hilarity, for which there is no end.
Traveling thousands of miles from the cold weather and slush.
I was allowed only one minute of solitude before nuts, knockers,
loudspeakers and barnyard lights rudely jerked me back to this reality.
Corrupting civilization is just a split second behind us. Ever ready to bury us,
should we but pause to admire natures’ beauty in a remote destination!
*Vacation thoughts garnered in Punta Cana.
Bob and Hannah went to fish in Wassamassaw Bay.
They told their mom they would return for church so they could pray.
But both of them lost track of time, returning way past noon.
The sun was down and it was dark and there was a full moon.
“What do you have to say to me, for it is very late.
The moon is up, the sun is down, your meals are on your plates.
You haven’t done your chores and now it’s almost time for bed.
The dog is barking angrily for he wants to be fed.”
“We are so very sorry but we did lose track of time.
There was commotion on the Bay although there was no crime.
And when we tried to leave for home the officer said, ‘No.’
He said we’d have to stay a while and that we could not go.”
“He said he had some questions so we would have to stay.
We told him that we had to go to church so we could pray.
The officer said we could go after we told the tale.
Of how in Wassamassaw Bay, we caught a big white whale!”
By Samia Arroyo for David Williams' Palindrome mad contest.
The sun has gone for his holidays
We don’t know when he’ll be back.
He gone to Australia for a rest
But we can’t wait for him to come back.
We miss him when he is away
He never sends a postcard.
I suppose he might find writing it
A teensy weensy bit hard.
He is baking the Australians
And the Indians too.
I know that cos I just spoke to one
He was very polite to me too.
He told me it is 35 degrees
And he is getting a bit hot
I told him to send it back to us
Because we definitely are not.
He laughed as he gave me the codes
To fix my remote control
He wished me all I wished myself
I thanked him, and said that was my goal.
Now as we get nearer to the solstice
The sun I have to tell
You will be making your way back soon
And on that I am going to dwell.
It makes me happy to know,
You will have to start your return
I can’t wait for the solstice on the 22nd to pass
For this I am longing and I yearn.
Let's have some fun
hide the sun once
and turn the time.
Call moon for light
day and night same
no bright sun there.
Who will do it?
Little bit tough
me eat my words.
© kashinath karmakar(6th Auigust 2011)
Placement: 3rd;(August 2011)
Sponsor:Dr Ram Mehta
At 10 A.M on Friday 13th July
The Sun emerged from a cloud.
After five minutes shining bright thought,
'Sod this, I'm going back to bed. right now'
The Weather King called up Rain
But only got an answer phone.
Thor the God of thunder, was sick in bed.
An accident with a hammer it was thought.
Try as he might, the Weather King
Could not find someone to replace
The stubborn immovable Sun.
Who was now working to rule.
A better deal was his demand.
It was agreed for shorter hours
And if Sun was late rising
Overcast would cover the time.
Longer holidays was also agreed.
Fourty-eight to fifty weeks per year.
So if you want to see Summer Sun.
Don't blink when looking in England,
Because he might not be there.
The Cyber Nymph
Loch David Crane
August 18, 1997
Lie back--expose your belly ring
up unto the sky. . .
I just hope when I get down close
it won't put out my eye!
That summer I was 48
and she pert 25;
I left Prozac in the cupboard
and Reality went Live.
I shoulda taken time to stop
and used the vorpal rubber
But 48 he couldn't wait
to find another lover.
So while the Sun was merciless
to sand and skin and sea
"If she swells I'm sure she'll tell,
returning then to me."
I must admit I got her drunk--
I used her just for sex:
Blue and blond with freckles,
suntanned buns and pecs.
But she revealed computer skills
That took away my breath.
Her dancing cyber fingers sang;
I soon saw who was best.
Ol' 48 could bare compute
"Not very fast" she said;
"I've practiced years not to be fast"
gasped I, collapsed in bed.
Then the Sun warmed up the honey--
it dripped twice more in a row.
Ulysses' "rosy-fingered dawn"
beheld her frown, dress, and go.
That freshly-flossed feeling
reverberates my spine
A smile wells up from deep inside
and stays there all the time.
At play I watched this cyber nymph
on Netscape and E-mail;
Her eyes flashed, fingers flying,
shaking golden ponytail.
"You're kinda slow," she grumbled,
"But I like that in a man," she grinned,
making me feel great.
My old 12 color monitor
was not enough for her;
More movies, GIFs, and videos
flew by me in a blur.
But 48 he had a trick:
while she stared at the screen
I spoke in her ear, nibbled her neck,
and adored her like a Queen.
I kissed and bit and licked and squirmed
'til wrists and spine went quiet--
The way a mouse's legs go still
when python's on his diet.
And then the honey dripped once more,
the Sun was past its rise.
I felt its rosy hug and knew
that love was in my eyes.
I asked her for her address,
she wrote with @ in code;
I said "I'm too old fashioned"
and asked for her telephone.
So when you dream, sweet 25,
tall cyber nymph of mine,
remember please old 48
who isn't past his prime.
And as the honey of the Sun
drips down into the sea
I'll recall my Cyber Nymph
and she will undelete me.
The sun shines gently upon me.
The birds are busy at play.
The children are sleeping.
The cats are out creeping.
And the dog has been barking all day.
The birds cackle and chirp;
As they play a round of hide and seek.
The dog watches with excitement,
as the cat strolls by so frail and meek.
A good morning kiss from the sun to the world.
Its a brand new day.
wake up boys and girls.
I contemplate the deep blue sky
While lying in the sun baked grass
And wonder what it is about the summer
That makes me such a lazy ...
Let's start over ...
While lying here in the sun baked grass
I contemplate the deep blue sky
And wonder what it is about the summer
That makes me such a lazy guy
Where once were clouds in skies of gray
With rain and snow falling out of it
Bringing on fits of depression
And really making me feel like ...
Umm, scratch that...
Where once rain and snow did fall
From clouds in skies of gray
Bringing on fits of depression
And completely ruining my day
Okay, that will work.
Now resides the deepest blue
A gift to bring me luck ...
Maybe I better stop right there!
Now resides a sign of luck
A gift of the deepest blue
Made even better today
Cause I lay here next to you
For Francine's "Blue on Blue on Blue" Contest
Written and posted on 6-28-2011
We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.
Let's call on the rectal surgeon,
It's a calling we could crave;
Lift up your hands and join us,
Let's all do the finger wave.
When it comes to spreading joy,
There many a sweet techniques,
Some spread joy to all the world,
While others just spread cheeks.
Me thinks the cardiologist,
Needs be the patient’s friend;
But the colorectal surgeon,
Knows he'll get you in the end.
Why do you call a rectal surgeon,
It's one of those mysterious things;
Is it because in that profession,
There are always openings?
When I first met a rectal surgeon,
He didn't quite understand;
I said, "It's nice to meet you,
But do you mind if we don't shake hands.
A doctor he did want to be,
For golf he loved to play;
But this is not quite what he meant,
By eighteen holes a day.
We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.
(A hermit crab has just realized that he can barely fit into his shell and the only other
creature in earshot to hear his cries is a sea anemone who lives on the hermit crab's shell and has been the hermit crab's close friend for many years.)
Lament dear shell! For we stayed in the sun too long and you have shrunk!
How shall I survive with out you to protect me and house me from the sea?
Shrunk!?! A sea-shell? How is it that a shell could shrink, I ask you Mr. Crab?
How could something hard grow small? Maybe something that is soft grew large?
Mr. Anemone, what exactly do you mean? Something that is soft???
My shell is hard and my claws are harder. I can crack coconuts and coquinas alike.
No doubt, Mr. Crab, your claws are hard indeed, as hard as the shell on your head.
But what about your tail? Could it be that your tail has grown too big for your house?
Mr. Anemone, don’t be foolish. I am as fit as a fish and sleek as a snake.
I highly doubt that my tail could be at fault, to be honest; I’m a bit insulted you would say so.
Dear Mr. Crab, my intent is not to insult but to illuminate OUR current predicament.
The shell on which I sit and in which you live is no longer big enough for YOUR tail -- are
Oh, excuse me Mr. Anemone, this blue-green algae is wonderful today.
Would you care for a snack? It really is quite delicious and you are looking a bit thin.
Mr. Crab, case and point! You have already eaten breakfast twice today, this is your third.
I believe we have narrowed in on the reason your shell has “shrunk”. Are you paying
Mmmmm, delicious algae; its so sweet when its fresh. Oh yes, I heard you.
The sun has shrunk my shell and we must now say goodbye to our old home.
Mr. Crab, a moment ago you were crying about the lack of room and potential eviction
from our home,
Now you munch away, ever expanding your tail and threatening our protection and even
(something floats down from the surface and comes to rest on the sand a few feet from Mr.
Crab and Mr. Anemone)
Hello, what’s this Mr. Anemone? Round opening, hard outer surface and very shiny,
And writing on the side, hmmm, “bud-weis-er”. Budweiser! Sounds like a great name for a
Yes indeed Mr. Crab. When all hope seems lost and the end seems near, Mother Sea
And it would seem she has provided something big enough even for YOUR tail.
Awww… These are Happy Dance Ramblings… When you get someone to listen… You just have to go for it… Bet you didn’t know that I’m like super doper man... Put me behind a computer and I take off… Put my glasses on and I’m just plain old Clark Kent… Didn’t know I had it in me… But enjoy my time in the clouds… I don’t have happy genes… I have Super doper man genes… LOL
Change is in the air! I awoke and haven’t stopped running since… It’s kinda like jumping from stone to stone in a creek… Fun but occasionally slippery, but a good swim never hurt anyone... Last one in is a poopy pants…The Trolls want to come, too, so be careful… They’re a klutzy and might get in the way… or splash all the water out…LOL… Better hurry before they get here… Yee Haww!
Someone said ladies swoon… I don’t swoon… I just sigh… If some guy lies I just sic the Trolls on them… or the Dragon… If he’ll listen… Probably not… Quit pooping on my roses Silly Dragon! There go the Trolls! … Doesn’t anybody listen… Sigh!… See! They did it again… Those guys made me sigh!… LOL
When it storms I have 3 big dogs and 2 cats trying to climb into my bed… We all just snuggle in… Oh NO!… Not the Dragon, too! Owww! Silly Dragon just pushed me out of bed!… Dumb Dragon!
After the rain the sun brings everyone out with gleams in their eyes… Even the Dragon. But I don’t trust him... I know that gleam means he’s up to something… One of these days I’m going to get me that Dragon… EEEWWW! He just snorted all over me! Grandpa Troll! The Dragon just snorted ALL over me! This is snot right! Oh No! Now the dragons grinning… Don’t ask questions. Just Run…Hurry Up!… He’s gaining! Grab the pitch forks! He’s heading for my roses! AGAIN! Darned old poopy dragon!
I bet that darned Dragon would listen to you.! You want him? He knows how to fertilize roses REAL well! Well, that is... if you don’t give him a lot of attention! He likes LOTS of attention! I can spare him for a while. Might help my roses see some sun again… I think they’re getting a MIGRAINE! Really!
AWW! Grandpa Troll has me sitting beside the lake with the Dragon on the other side. He said we need to make nice, nice, and to soak up all that sunshine… The dragons making it worse! At least I can take off my fireproof suit. His flames don't reach across the lake… NaNa NA NaNA You mean, old Dragon! Serves you right… Hope it gives him heart burn! Get it?… Fire, Burn! LOL… Grandpa Troll says we sound like two little kids fighting. HA! We’re BIG kids!…
The sun comes up and shines on me
To help me greet my day
A cup of coffee, then I get dressed
I'm out and on my way
I stop into my favorite shop
A latte with some foam
A bagel with some cream cheese spread
I pay and then go on
At ten I hit the coffee pot
To get an extra boost
It's gonna be a long, long time
'Til this bird gets home to roost
At lunch I have a sandwich with
Another coffee cup
Maybe something mocha like
I'm sure to drink it up
After work it's restaurant
A burger made with cheese
Pour me up a java cup
And keep it coming please
When I get home and I'm alone
I start a pot to brew
I turn the television on
And then I have a few
Java, whiskey and Kalua
Helps to end my day
Until the morning sun shines through
To start a brand new day
The sun sets over an alabaster hill of elements to me unknown
Adrenalin still pumping from the thrill of the alien spacecraft in which I’ve flown
Abducted from the earth several months ago
Wondering if anyone is still looking for me
Hiking alone in the wilderness
My disappearance is probably a mystery
The horizon has a purple haze, though this air I easily breathe
I am not sure if they are the same sun rays that warm the earth we did leave
Three moons appear in the darkening sky as the sun bids her final adieu
Strange creatures above me start to fly; several planets come in to view
And now the purpose for my abduction
Is made very plain to me
They need me for more reproduction
Their males have lost the ability
Sunsets on this planet are different from those on earth
But if romance is what the aliens want …
I’ll give them all I’m worth
Days that end on notes unwell
Compel this weeping soul
To walk among a secret garden
Where stepping stones in careful lay
And the rains of winged and flower friends
Give way to hearts unburdened
And to tears of joy
Or that of weathered season
To water the rose petals in uneven
“Tells us dear, why always sadness”
“Is when you visit here?”
“No more worries, friends will change that frown upon which you wear”
Their rainbow already smiles
And polka dotted eyes
Have ready changed me back to cherry cheer
As Sun flora holds me so motherly near
Where Doodly Bug does her dancing thing
And Blue Jay fails to tell a joke, because all he can do is sing
Betty Fly within her elegance of silence mimes
To Mr. Dandy Lion sending wishes off into the winds
And Inchee worm finally reaches me at the gardens end
In and among the gather, laughter spills all around
As the garden fills ever more and more
Until the sun party crasher comes down and down
And the fire flyers usher, and take to flight
A signaling sight to all
What brings about a hush quiet overhaul
And as I rise, once more in cries
In departs from my secret friends
They offer out all their good nights and even more their goodbyes!
My garden secret and hidden far
Safely within an enchanted meadow
Is tucked away like a precious treasure… beneath my softly pillow
The Saga of dusty roads of Utah
(To the memory of Don W. Esplin, father of Kathryn Esplin-Oleski)
There he was playing with some mild explosives,
in his own backyard, a resolute boy he is;
the June month had swelled like the taut belly of
a neighborhood lady; the boy wanted to be
a scientist which he became. He, of course could not
envision that all these sepia dust of Utah,
the noon backyard and a young scientist’s narrative
would be remembered by his explosive daughter
and a strange Indian was going to pen a saga.
Alfred Nobel was smiling from a page of a book
The boy rolled a cigarette, the smoke’s curlicues
swirl up to grain the picture. A blast almost choked
the bright blue jays and robins. Defused sun slanted.
The end of the road was just an end of the road
where sun could meet earth, warm grass shook off the heat
and the covert window of the farm house would yield
a father and son talk. Strong argument on
future, on an university, on money
on a world that could differ in generations;
of course the boy, as a father, understood
his girl, then living apart. But distance is in heart.
He would grow up midst dreams. A quirky wind would blow him
here and there; navy, marriage and science,
pharmacology and marriage again; a gust
of wind would take him on a ride that, if he could
read this he would have said, resembled his truck rides
down the roads of Utah. But at that point of time
he was wide awake inside his misty night’s sleep
and an American novel is shooting up
its multiple heads in search of fresh oxygen.
The waves of moon were enjoying a full tide.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
tic tock a high noon sun is glaring with laughter tails dart to darkness
The horizon gives her shelter
For another night
To rest her rays and firestorms
Till dawn calls for a light
Then up again she rises
To herald in another day
With a veil of mist and fog
In the valley down our way
Above the houses now she shines
Too bright for eye to see
Yet we can feel her heat
As we take shade beneath a tree
The busy bees are buzzing
In the foliage up above
While in the pond two amorous frogs
Are struggling to make love
Now her meridian she has reached
And we can feel her power
Drenched with sweat and baking hot
The only respite, a cold shower
Before too long she will dip
Below her blue horizon
To end for us another day
With lots of legs to spy on
Then she will take her leave from us
For yet another night
Leaving us with sunburnt skin
That’s shining cherry bright
Without her life would not exist
The planet could not survive
So sun please rise tomorrow
To keep mankind alive
A Buddhist bird flies
Under the eyes
Of winter’s sun
As I watch his flight
Across a lonely wintry sky
At his long, long flight south
He diverts himself
From the chilly northern wind
That the sun cannot warm
He diverts himself
With a single thought
As only a Zen Buddhist bird might do
What is the sound
Of one wing flapping?
"the sound of one hand clapping"...(by J. D. Salinger) Thank you Leo
Boy said, "Mom, they call me vampire at school
They treat me like dirt, they're very cruel
I'm tired of our name being dragged through the mud
Mom said, "Just shut up and drink your blood."
Mom asks Dad, "Where you headed tonight?"
Dad says, "Think I'll go out for a bite."
Mom gives him a wink and shows thumbs up
And says,"Just be back before the sun comes up."
The cold night air feels so invigorating
But the morning sun starts me disintegrating
When I get back, do you know what would excite me
Putting my face in your neck and you scream,"Bite me!"
When I get home, what will we have for dinner?
I hope it's not Mr. Miller, he's on blood thinner.
I'll stop by the graveyard before the break of day
To see what I can dig up along the way.
Let's enjoy each moment, they are so fleeting
If I were alive, my heart would be beating
I'll love you forever, no need to gloat
I can't wait to get my fang on your throat
She said "Oh, Darling, you make me insane.
I can feel the formaldehyde leave my vein
See the hole in ,y heart, the one you make
Not the one from the wooden stake.."
I remember the nights we'd watch Star Trek
Then you'd lean over and put two holes in my neck
And you'd say I love you but the last thing you did
Was kiss me good night and pull down the lid.
I do not know?
where we still have to
cover up our little dairy airys
can't open the windows
for in fear of it still may snow
but it did reach ninety eight in may
but soon how it went away
now nights reaching for that extra blanket
as temputures hits the low double digits
waking up to morning dew
butterflies can't and won't even land and chew
clouds of mattered grey
just won't let the sun come out to play
just raindrops tapping on my window
as the fury wind whips and blows
cotton balls fluttering thru the air
hearing aw choo's everywhere
not sure if the sun will ever shine
or if the temputures will get out of their binds
for I know july is right around the corner
and I want to be able to celebrate with other horner's
so june-uary please turn your other cheek
and return our sun for which we seek
I do not know?
Autumn Morning Country
The Morning Sky Aquamarine.
The Morning Sun Canary.
The Morning Clouds Pearls of White.
The Morning Birds Ruby Light.
The Morning Grass Emerald Green.
The Morning Leaves Smoky Quartz and Peridot.
The Morning Tree Trunks Citrine Light.
The Morning Smears of Snow Opal White.
The Morning Wind Constantly Clear.
Autumn Afternoon Country
The Afternoon Sky Aquamarine.
The Afternoon Sun Bright Canary.
The Afternoon Clouds Pearls of White.
The Afternoon Birds Rainbow Bright.
The Afternoon Grass Emerald Green.
The Afternoon Leaves Garnet Free.
The Afternoon Tree Trunks Heightened Citrine.
The Afternoon Snow Vanishes Away.
The Afternoon Wind Warming Sways.
Autumn Night Country
The Night Sky a Limitless Blanket of Onyx.
The Night Stars Scatters of Clear Diamonds.
The Afternoon Sun Concealed.
The Night Moon Revealed, a Ball of White Pearl.
The Night Clouds Smears of Tahitian Pearls.
The Night Owls Hues of Jasper and Carnelian.
The Night Grass Darkest of Emerald Color.
The Night Leaves Twirling Free in Dark Shadows.
The Night Tree Trunks Pilars of Darkest Citrine.
The Night Snow Heaving Falling of Akoyian Pearls.
The Night Wind Cooling Blows.
You go to bed, you lie there, you toss and turn all night,
You cannot sleep, you can't lie still, you try with all your might,
Morning calls, the sun comes up, you raise your weary head,
Now you have to face the day, and you wish you were in bed.
I went to bed, I lay there, and I tossed and turned all night,
I couldn't sleep, could not stay still, I tried with all my might,
Morning came, the sun came up, I raised my weary head,
I decided not to face the day, and I went back to bed.
The sun comes up, the sun goes down-
The moon always follows-round and round,
A girl comes out the door homeward bound,
So walking to her car she is found.
I've always wanted to make a rhyme,
Where the right word came all of the time,
With this silly ditty, I'll bet you a dime
That everything I wanted turns out fine.
I've always loved a lovely verse-
Ever since I became a nurse,
And all of my patients loved to hear
All of my caring words of cheer.
When patients are sick and lay dying-
Their families stand around crying,
All they ever wanted to hear,
Were words of courage and good cheer.
And now I am seventy and four,
No more do I have to do these chores,
But I'll be making verses and rhymes,
Until I'm at the end of my time.
Big red buckets and yellow elephants
Standing on mice wearing pink flared pants
Oil filled puddles of many rainbow hews
And crocodile upholstered chapel pews
Armies of platform shoe wearing dogs
Wearing wigs made from living frogs
Thick carpets made of real living fur
That when walked on emits a soft purr
Deep swimming pools of strawberry jelly
Hand painted sandals by Botticelli
Gold plated gloves and silver shoes
Invisible paper for reading the news
Custard foot spas and florescent trees
Serviced by an army of giant bees
Giant bales of pink sugar-candy hay
Drenched in a honey flavoured sun ray
Glow in the dark butlers and purple maids
Liquorice flavoured garden sun shades
World domination through sensuous massage
A herd of wild hippos kept in the garage
My day dreams contain the silly and daft
Strange thing blow through on every draft
My mind is cluttered with harebrained schemes
But every single one of them sparkles and gleams
Heat! Heat, my enemy; this too I learn.
Why yea, such burden on my back do lay,
Yea bronze my skin, damn sun, my neck yea burn.
My enemy –Hot August sun -hot day.
Does' come late September days concern
Bring for me your sweet eastern winds, I pray.
And October cool as leaves do fall -return!
Fill this sky not with burning sun, but gray.
Bring to me a sky, which clouds for shade.
My condition air, -Down, my thermostat
Cool breeze blow, me yea kind relief unpaid.
Fear creeps on me; sun to hot to be that-
My cool to keep. Hope, Faith or Charity
My electric bill, this week pay for me.