Best Bungalows Poems

On the bank of the James River,
Virginia Colony, 
a proposal was conceived to constrain the African fire.
The ploy, a real achievement in the West-Indian settlements.
In Rome, bodies were paraded along the byways, 
to make a statement. 
My Massa used ropes.
We dangled by our necks like...

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What If?

What if guppies and goldfish could swim through the air?
What if birds could only relax by sitting in a chair?

What if spider webs looked like charming bungalows?
What if cheese sticks had to be hunted out in the jungle-os?

What if curtains were carefully hung up...

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I perch on a rock
by white teal-roofed bungalows,
resting after my journey.
Autumn's early bloom
is a choir of falling leaves
by a quiet rippling stream.

The silence deafens
as bright notes waft like snowflakes
to earth in Fall's madrigal.
I, a songless bird,
rejoice in observation.
The rippling stream chimes for me....

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O'er fields strewn with harvested evergreens,
There ventured a marine from Queens,
His flesh were a slight inky, his clothing was ragged,
No more alive, flowing in dread and haggard.
 
All around him darkness loomed quite blue,
Once a fair surround, radiant and imbue,
In the light he walked there,...

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When winter months become morose
And everything around is blue and froze
Gets disheartening even for the eskimos
Their morale starts to dwindle and decompose

They tread most lightly on cautious tippytoes
For fear their neighbors will become bellicose
They bite their tongue rather than use such prose 
As ‘up your...

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The images plucked from a full soft drive like over blown berries
threatening to fall……blasted to the humus. Swing chains creak.
The high-backed, heart carved, chalk white, front porch swing sways;
to the kicking of your feet. Beside me, you sit in spankin’ new school clothes singing.

Together wrapped...

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Everything Changes

It is still winter and
roadside snow banks lead me.

I drive the pre-highway
backroads of another time, when

‘no dumping” warnings
 lined the thick woods.

Now stand subdivisions
modern sewers and gas lines.

Some old bungalows by the lake
remain, reminders of summers

when I was small and
the forest was eternal.

As the...

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A walk to school out of the backdoor, through the homemade back gate, through a narrow alley,
Cars parked on the curb, guarded by paraffin lamps, no garages, no parking area,
Walking down my road, past the bully's house, all is very, very quiet, careful
Then the front...

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1977. Was the Queens Jubilee,also eventfull year
flew down from Teeside to London Heathrow,for an overnight stay
 an onward journey to Kuwait, my father  prime in the proffession he did
scaffolding coordintor,myself and  sister Tracy were only kids.

Not many children get an oppertunity,  stemming...

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Across the table from an empty chair,
I sat and tried to sound interesting,
She stood so close and we discussed ice cream,
And Cornflakes, and bourbon, and the art scene,
The fact we both have lived in bungalows,
We had seen each other twice before this,
The second time was...

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One night before I finally fell asleep,
I found that you my beloved spiritual sister,
led me into the heavens.
We are blessed with these super luxury bungalows.
These white bungalows are all next to each other, 
upon a grassy knoll, 
with a swimming pool, a large one of...

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SKY

It slides down silently
From the naked branches of tree
Hanging bats of shadow
And creeps incessantly 
In the barren alleys
When the hearsay of the sun crosses
The western sky
From the womb of the horizon
From bamboo grooves
From the meeting halls of villages
From running sewerage 
From balconies
From bungalows
From palaces
From castles
There...

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One person, homeless, in soiled clothes
stands at intersection of two roads, stares continuously towards the road 
where palatial houses with beautiful flowered gardens are lined up.

Mesmerized imagines himself inside those bungalows
servants in queues, to serve masters, with best wines
and mistresses, bejeweled, freshly serviced from parlors...

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Tasmania 

Wool of the sheep in Tasmania is full of soot a fire has 
destroyed the farms they belonged to. They have gone 
feral now grazing where there is any grass left… 
In a country where insensitive incomers stupidly  killed 
off the Tasmanian tiger,...

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Bazaar,
Storing all a"s,the bazaar,
Of the three one is profit,
Bazaar like the heart of the township,
Supplying noise commodities to the ear consumers free,
A place buying richness and selling poorness,
Most of the sellers only with minds but hearts,
Money is like blood running all over the Shop nerves,
Some...

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