Best Airs Poems
The black ones I got from my mother,
The glamourpuss Welsh princess;
The red ones came from my dad,
The freckled Irish redbeard;
The blonde ones were mine as a baby,
Ringlets that bounced when I ran;
As a child I turned to a light brunette,
Thick and fine, flecked with my ancestry.
But the grey ones are all my own doing:
I made them, I earned them, I deserve them,
I worried them into my life,
I worked and partied, I pushed myself for them,
Those late nights are there to be seen,
And all the hair dye in the world
Can't cover up who I've been.
The eternal buzz of city anglers
brash, angry, hornets ever selling egos.
Shrieking anxiety laced, analog, syllables, idiotically.
Hoping against hope, urchins, desperations end,
strumming ancient chords in vain efforts,
praying evermore for ordained kindness's eye.
Telltale ubiquitous blighter's energetically begging on.
How on heaven's earth can anyone
begrudge absolution, hand out shackles instead.
The august city in full ultraviolet,
never ever satiated, each mouth open.
Raw as meat, uncooked, questionable, objectionable,
waiting on the angler's hook obediently.
I am the wind
the textured curl of clouds
those specks of glitter
silver and gold are my
illustrative gleams
the foiling wings
that flutter and flap
feathers ripe with color
complementing all rosy hills
a rolling kiss a splash of
blush a dash of spicy dish
the pepper and the salt
of a morning's stirring serving
see me in the meadows
there where wildflowers overflowing
bees and butterflies how they gaily
bob take lick like little children
at the serving tops of apples candied
making funny faces where those more
tart chasing rainbow tails the
fond remnants of showers
I made this day for you
now do me honor
save some acres from your cities
and roads
one or two at the least
as I keep sacred
your plot through the heavens
"My Hands Are Yours, You Lifted Me Up"
"That face That You make, Is A On core"
"Those Puddle That The Fish In, Is Like Music To My Ears",
"That Smell In The Bathroom, Smell Like A Dead Moldy Bread"
"That Air Is Cold, But That Breeze Needs Warmth"
"All These Thing, The World Above"
"That Bad Winters, And Bad Luck"
"Will Soon Will Come Through Dust"
"With Good Winds, And More Sun"
"To Flower Up Above",
"Smelling Spring Smells So Good, Makes me Whanna Camp Outdoors"
A stretch in evening
Weeping Willow under snow
All airs and graces
whispering of winds
sibilant, susurrations
inspiring insights
braggart's boring boasts
haughty, howlingly hollow
a wisp and a whiff
tintinnabulum
continuously caressed
potent priapic
wet and wheezy whine
old nick now is not so nice
whispering wraiths wait
Airs and Graces
On their faces
A gaze down the nose
Other silly shows
Illusions of grandeur
A grand amour
Of self deception
False Perception
Take a better look
We are the open book
Their airs and graces
Reflected on our faces.
Diana Dalton
2 Feb 2017
No pretence
No airs and graces
Just be real
No “two faces”
Be authentic
Just be You
Let your true spirit shine through
Your fairness, honesty
Integrity will show
Kindness to all
Compassion, goodness will flow
Don’t fear vulnerability
Or to admit you were wrong
It does not create weakness
It enlightens, renders you strong
Let your humour be present
Smile and laugh each day
Don’t take life to seriously
Don’t waste it away
Feel inner peace ….without turmoil
Like and love You
Appreciate and value all life offers
But mostly “to yourself be true”
To qualify as an educated gent
to certain boarding-schools one must be sent
To learn how to position one's fork and knife
and raise one's pinkie, unlike lowlifes
A gent speaks with an air of charm and grace
his nose gradually rising on his face
Savaging the ways of 'today's barbaric youth'
while knocking down shots of gin and vermouth
Such gents betimes depart fine society
exposing themselves ~ targets of impropriety
Darling diva cow puts on airs, said Ruth Could.
Weird for her usual smell is nicotine putrid.
No one can stand the stench of her pores or her coat.
Barnyards smelled better with cows, pigs and one goat.
Is that her? I asked pointing to a cow with legs.
She was kicking one up, practically showing us eggs.
Yes, and she thinks she’s all that, but her smell is horrid.
I could not get any closer, nicotine came out of her forehead.
The cool evening airs
Sweeps across her moonlit hair
Gently laying, bare her extraordinary beauty.
By a pleasant breeze of fragrant air
That blows gently across her wavey hair.
Hypnotically twisting and flittering
Curling and swirling her flowing hair
with each gentle breeze
That I could not stop but to stare
Oh Blair, My Blair
how much more can I bare,
I sit here in profound despair.
Naturally wondering
if you genuinely care.
When you doggies go airy with too much of the dairy Help stop global warming and make the farm fresher, with our industrial strength solvent A cow pies worst enemy Unnaturally dissolving the natural smells You will be the VIP of carbon credit You will never regret it The DIY of earth day a hero of greener pockets GMO as you Go stop the smell before it grows Like a masked unicorn squatting to cease the day The potpourri of overused hay to victors the spoils While fracking for oil never thinking of the toils but never fear the rears or oily balms Make your payments to farmerslonely.com
Another word for exaggeration is hyperbole
One word is fine, so why did we need two?
I don’t know, seems utterly redundant to me
Not being an etymologist, I haven’t a clue.
One for common folks, the other for the elite?
Seems someone couldn’t agree, and that’s fine,
I’ll settle for exaggeration, a word that’s neat
Hyperbole ... if I’m trying to show my behind.
Written August 27, 2022
The woman wore her faux fox hat with an air of elegance and pride
I am used to real furs, my daddy is a dealer, and he shows me each hide
She acts with a touch of snobbery, which I think is totally amusing
If she could see animals turned into pelts, her vanity would be confusing.
If lower court grants bail one day,
High court stays, saying oh, no way,
Ah with judicial airs
Courts play musical chairs,
And the top court then stays the stay.
Too bad, justice delayed
When weighed, weighed and reweighed,
Perfection still remains at bay.
_______________________________
Happenings |05.07.2024| justice
Poet’s note: And this ditty wonders if the country (and the world as well) is aware that our modern judicial process has become extremely slow, and that millions of cases get pending (as in India). We should know, courts are manned by humans who in no way are perfect. That, seeking too much perfection is waste of time.