Best Filleted Poems

I. The Hour of Approach

The poem I was writing refused to end—  
it kept writing me.  
Blood didn't ink these lines—  
the ink bled me.  
Each stanza a hidden-hematoma  
across the white of nothingness.

Somewhere, midnight faltered,  
and I was...

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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 I walk away
sweetheart, I love you too much, this truth I dare say.

For within thine eyes, I see love's eternal...

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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 go
with its immense depths, sweet kisses, resplendent glow.
I could do no such, no more than I walk away
sweetheart, I love...

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Now
  Come the shadow clouds
  where and whence evil rises bold and loud
  once buried, hidden wide opened shrouds.
Warm, soft, calm breezes slip away
  in between the morning hours when we prayed
  deep in the cast of shadowy grays
 ...

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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 out,
chopped off for sure,
body filleted,
without a thought,
they ask for commitment,
and take it as their due,
you're not a fish,
spit out the...

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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 there just waiting
That you’ve made the right guess
When pickin’ you baiting.

Well  he seems to have good luck
When he goes...

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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 of tobacco with salt launching
forth from frothy waves
forms low misty curtains
a soft silty beach records a tiny footprint
seagulls honking, hovering...

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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 if we saw it every day?
Those horrors our babies must pay…
so convenience, lust and greed can survive.
Could we watch these...

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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 revitalizing; 
it will do my health much good. But, you see things to sadden you. 
Sometimes being early kills you;

sitting...

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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 them-
Of they, who astride great tan camels,
Seem rather scandent and saltant.
These are the irregular, well-armed cavalry of the 
"Men In...

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

Lettuce pray before eating.
He likes rabbit,...

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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 dinner was hosted
the plump turkey as dry as yesterday

many wars were waged
because father or mom, 
many school projects worked on...

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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, a bed for the night
or a bonny new bonnet
to enable them to appear more
enticing to men with money to spend
A...

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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 cutting.
The sidewalks segmented in rows, false
lure more tourists into a queue.

Cowed were young folk and old folks all queued
a ménage...

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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 and put them in a drawer where the hid.
Similar to the thoughts in the back cabinet of my mind. 
Dusty...

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