Best Beryl Poems

My auntie her first name is Beryl
Put other road users in peril
She mounted the sidewalk
The pedestrians squawk
and report her to Sherriff Merrill

The Sherriff puts her...

Read more of this work...

you ...
are my moon
(whisper me, coolly)
wan and pale as porcelain
milky moll - `china doll ...
dancing the sky like a Ginza geisha
stars tickling your toes
prettily petulant,...

Read more of this work...

I'm lost at sea and weary
          So tossed upon the tides
     ...

Read more of this work...

We drifted not far from shore -
a delicate night with supple air entire,
black and white until patience sent us grays
that rocked with the boat on...

Read more of this work...

If anyone would like to have some community fun, 
please send me a limerick(s) in a comment or soup mail.  



The famous Blarney Stone,...

Read more of this work...

For those who don't read blogs or know of Jan's successful first book, I've written a limerick for her and included it in my comment...

Read more of this work...

ARE YOU SITTING COMFORTABLY

Poor Beryl had terrible piles
So painful, they stuck out for miles
With help from her finger
Her piles did not linger
Now comfy, she sits...

Read more of this work...

and in my dream I float in the blue heavenly sea
I am full of calmness, truth and tranquility
oh the blue I see and the blue...

Read more of this work...

Tease me my dear so nicely 
          Gently and seductively

Soft moonlight across the sea 
Grant me...

Read more of this work...

From Poland hailed your Uncle Max, who in matters of manners was a bit lax,
While from France came Aunt Belle, whom I thought was really...

Read more of this work...

My name is James, born 1961
In Inverness, a small Scots town
To my father Andrew, and my mother Beryl
And Billy my brother, a pair of devils
...

Read more of this work...

Astounded ...

Death caught his breath ...
          cast his net to the stars,
    ...

Read more of this work...

Thrice the night—the day!—both fell to sleepless slumber,
But now in Spring, though yet again: The third was three in number. 

I sense a wince remind...

Read more of this work...

Stars to drown in Heaven's pleat
          Told, too late, that dawn is nigh
   ...

Read more of this work...

In one ghost whisper of a town,
the mourning sunset had bloodshot eyes
A tombstone place that was
	long shadow 
past it’s boomtown prime
Withering eureka hope  ...

Read more of this work...