Best Filleted Poems

How shall I, let your kind and most tender heart go
with its immense depths, sweet kisses, resplendent glow.
I could do no such, no more than...

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For Within Thine Eyes, I See Love's Eternal Gaze, 
- a collaboration with Susan Ashley
 
How shall I, let your kind and most tender heart...

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Swimming in circles,
not hearing,
worrying,
analysing every word
of a neutral text,
wondering if, wondering why,
something I said?
About to give up, 
don't be a fool,
all that caring,
sticking your neck...

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Ode to a Generous Friend

I’ve a long time friend
That loves to go fishin’
Where you throw out some bait
While doin' 'strong wishin'

That something down under
Will be...

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Buzzing rail buggies 
spinning paddled tires beating
out a gritty wake feather
on sand dune
deliberation over alcohol burning
engines being better than gas
everyone with lit cigarette in hand
aroma...

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No body wants to hear it,
See it, feel it or be near it.
Even the picture of an aborted fetus;
Where would that reality lead us?

But what...

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I was taking an early morning walk. A beautiful day had dawned, 
cool and crisp, with only a whisper of breeze. I am told it’s...

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These humorous lines were inspired by
Viv Wigley's "Food Fight" contest. 
Could not resist the temptation:)
- - - - - - - - - - -...

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On caparisoned, filleted camels do they 
Over the great, soft, tawny sands 
Ride;
Unfurled flags and tribal standards flown amidst them, 
In the very midst of...

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The table is old and worn
nicks and scratches 
its red plastic tablecloth left over from a forgotten Christmas
its holiday pattern worn and forlorn
many a Thanksgiving...

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The traffic was strident, lanes straight
the cars lined the street and froze rigid.
The cop with a glare of pure hate, directed
a line of gate crashers...

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Wanton women of Whitechapel
Desperate and destitute
Weakened from want
Shrunken stomachs barren of bread
Dying from disease in dingy dosshouses
Selling themselves on the streets for shillings
to buy beer,...

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When I was thirteen years young, I filleted my upper right thigh.
47 times.
In one night.
In one hour.
I wrote suicide notes,
Every night. 
I folded them up...

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No Birthday Acknowledgement...

From thee... eldest daughter,  
who need not brood,
nor does padre whoosh 
to stir loess hood family feud
(hence an attempt merely
to convey melancholic...

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Every friggin day
mother hen runs amuck,
while all chicken's
beady eyes appear awestruck
drawing particular
agitation, irritation, perturbation...

of Punxsutawney (Doctor) Phil
(well grounded) woodchuck,
the latter glaring at henpecked
yours truly rifled
tail...

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