Best Kernels Poems
Barren fields of November
Corn stalks ragged
broken soldiers
bleak beauty
stripped of green
Beige bones on autumn's carpet
Margins of daylight that disappear
blending frost to the pinched ground
Corrosive wind like a wet slide of mourning
seamlessly folded into what
the landscape feels
Crows circle in their swoops of survival
seeking the scarce sweet zones of
lost kernels
Momentum to snatch scraps, bits of decay
in field rows that crack like smiles
Under a moody sky, gravestone gray
sparked by the cawing of crows
that scrubs us clean
in the exit wounds of autumn.
Let it rain! Oh God, let it rain;
wash away my anguish and pain!
Combine my tears with Spring showers;
and let them morph into flowers.
Purge all doubt from my heart and soul,
until I'm feeling free and whole.
And melt the snows of yesterday;
with Spring's rejuvenating spray.
Behind a veil of drizzling drops,
I pray this feeling never stops,
Give me the strength to walk away,
from all the lies and hurts today.
Hope tastes so amazingly sweet,
I skip along on dancing feet!
While kernels of truth swiftly grow,
encouraging me as I go.
This time around, I will not scatter these grains
to land where the weeds might choke them.
This time around, I will collect these kernels
and take them to the gristmill in my head
to crack under all that weight and break free…
Turning while the other is static
Between these stones lay our thoughts—
(the bran, the germ, the endosperm)
Fibrous fertility re(de)fined.
Crushing each layer to smithereens
Grinding and grinding, round and round
Negligent space between these stones
‘til I can think no more.
I gather my bushel of milled thoughts (ground yet still whole),
add some yeast, sugar and water.
We rest and we rise,
we take the punches and fall,
but we embrace the heat and rise again.
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---I smile as I bite into my warm, buttered pan de sal
mesmerized by the sun, glowing in the east...
06042018
Adam of Love
barely knew what to put
in black and white
with the Light in his heart
the dark able to look through.
A man of wealth
warmth and tenderness
the precious kernels of his soul.
A smile grew from his ribs
revealing inner rarity and creed.
Nature, his ancestors and his
in nature my Adam
so loving, so caring, so sweet.
Adam of Faith
in his prayers, Allah he never failed
imbued with a stainless strong belief.
Words of God dwell in his feelings
many a time overflowed into tears
reaching out for his deeds.
Adam of my heart
ever my words would me betray
to draw and paint your portrait
magic colours yet didn’t find their way
to meet your beauty
Dad, apple of my soul.
October 2nd, 2018
I cast these concepts
I cast these kernels
Kernels in my hand
Kernels in the clay
Clay of loam
Clay of words
Words to describe
Words packed
Packed with exegesis
Packed with strength
Strength of scavenging
Strength of crowd
Crowd of swarms
Crowd of staleness
Staleness with enthusiasm
Staleness with bluntness
Bluntness of prediction
Bluntness of demeanor
Demeanor with smile
Demeanor of delight
Delight in adventure
Delight of writing
Writing of nursery stories
Writing of poetry
Poetry from heart
Poetry for show
Show of pride
Show of faith
Faith in progression
Faith in aestheticism
Aestheticism in connoisseurship
Aestheticism of spirit
Spirit to convince
Spirit with zoanthropy
Zoanthropy from hysteria
Zoanthropy of diabolical
Diabolical in a cave
Diabolical of power
Power to rule
Power to deceive
Deceive with attempt
Deceive to mislead
Mislead unfair impression
Mislead into thinking
Thinking about calm
Thinking about success
Success isn't happiness
Success isn't wealth
Wealth
Happiness
Forest fires rage
Seed kernels burst from their cage
Rain quenches – Seeds sprout
Hens and Roosters in the barnyard
living in symbiotic relationships
each searching for kernels of corn.
Taking turns with beaks they snip
scorned and pecked. What the heck?
How hard should it be to get along
even when some foul fowl are wrong?
Cockadoodle don't squawk at me...
Why can't you see
peace in the barnyard is a reverie.
Squawk squawk...scratch scratch
Roosters and hens don't get along
Farmer, unlock the gate latch
to free those who don't belong.
Don't scratch, peck and complain
when you don't garner fame.
There should be no pecking order
Don't point the finger of blame
when you don't know the root
from which the clawing came
or you'll feel the farmer's boot.
Don't be misled by words of ruse
from roosters or hens on the loose.
They're out to suck up the worm
in the early morning sun...
their charade has just begun.
Squawk squawk...scratch scratch
Roosters and hens don't get along
Farmer, unlock the gate latch
to free those who don't belong.
Don't tell me this is a fabrication...
of a chicken barnyard story.
This is merely an observation
of things that are not hunky-dory
Beware the fox, lurking near
feathers ruffled in the barnyard
Cockadoodle don't live in fear
of a fox, a wolf, a fraud.
Keep safe the eggs in your nest
Don't leave your children unguarded
Outwitting the fox is a test
One for which you'll be rewarded.
They squawked and squawked
scratched and scratched
Roosters and hens in the barnyard.
"Cockadoodle Don't Will Open the Gate,"
is the title to a new hen house song.
Soup’s unique tides have ebb and flow.
Soup’s currents steer time as it goes
when her poets navigate thru it.
Winds slice all time-sails to tidbits.
Soup’s sea of discovery
floats each voyage diversely
towards and from the found and missed.
So much to read, many still to meet,
so none coast back to land complete.
Not even a list would assist
with click history that twists.
It is best to simply not resist
the route on which Soup Sharks insist.
Sharks of hurdles swim Soup circles
squeezing time with sharp teeth gurgles
that leave Soupers mere time kernels.
A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long truncated railroad stop
humming still within a surrogate reality.
As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.
Caps, coats, and carts
employed again by the magnetic
echos of an iron labor.
The brown weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its guts a nest for ticking birds.
Dandelions anticipate
a faraway flight,
A mid-day heat
thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive
as if its world
had not disembarked forever.
MISS POPCORN
sprouted kernels pop
all over the living room
missing her mouth
11/21/2017
Popcorn Silly
Popcorn salty, popcorn sweet
popcorn toffee, luxury treat
popcorn plain, popcorn simple
many sprouted me a pimple
Chew it slow, chew it safe
chew it fast, pull a face
make it last, make it linger
got one stuck on my finger
Hard kernels what I fear
bitten many, brought a tear
tum filled fillings - teeth now gone
popcorn has done me wrong
Popcorn never more I eat
upteen sits in dentist seat
new teeth, my gums await
soft foods always on my plate.
07.09.20
Bountiful goodness of squash, pumpkins and gourds decorate hay bales
Elaborate labyrinth of vines dried by August suns lean against twilight fences
Autumn colors of browns reds and oranges and a flash of yellow light the way
Uniquely different each time yet recognizable from one fall to the next
Trickling leaves surround lazy sleeping cat shadows, illuminating joy.
Intricate webs made by Indian Summer spiders sparkle in corners of our porches
Football season unveils friendly animosity amid the joyous coolness of autumn
Ultimate prettiness resides in this well thought out palette of our master artist
Luxurious pieces of kindling lead to a red hot bonfire adding ambiance to the night
Flush with butterscotch colored maize peppered with red and black kernels,
Autumn magic has no comps. She is her own category, unchallenged
Lovely in her unparalleled radiance, honored with the year’s prettiest skies
Languishing in comfortable repose, not understanding her magnificent innocence.
Written 9-10-2018 Beautiful Fall Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Diurnal, nature's early damsel,
donned in dew and vivid peach,
I am in need of dawning's candle;
humor me as I beseech.
Amidst thy gown I often ponder,
musing on the great "to be."
'Tis true, in thought I tend to wander
when amongst thy company.
Alas, Nocturnal's robe lies rigid
on the quarters of my sleep!
His garb represses thought--so frigid
are the kernels of my keep!
I can no longer bear the torment
that escorts a smothered mind,
for when one sleeps with theory dormant--
evening peace one cannot find.
Why doth such darkness bear a beacon
brilliant like a sterling gem?
Why doth such radiance not weaken
what I feel when cloaked by him?
Dost not thou give the moon its polish,
though the distance holds thy light?
If so, then with that sphere, abolish
all his sabotage tonight!
Too long have I, a pensive person,
been condemned to sleep as such.
I wish for not my rest to worsen:
won't thou reprimand his touch?
I beg of thee: repeal my prison,
purge me of its blank regime,
and grant my slumber nightly visions--
be they sweet or bitter dreams!
It started with an apple in paradise or was it a date they consumed
Had they kept their clothes off laundry day would have been easier
The smell of seduction and no fake news
Honestly who cares whether it was pure sex or sweet requited love
Darwin had his way and they followed a journey to un-heavenly bliss
Candied peel from a fruit of nibbling temptation
It was a Saturday and procreation their Christian duty to comply
With the rule of nature to mix seeds in fertile pastures of joy
Russian roulette from a gene pool of ancestral relief
I hear you say its the parents’ fault that happiness mutated
Into a warm gun with too many bullets to the beat of a drum
Golden delicious pipped kernels for conquest
Peaceniks taken to task for one simple innocent transgression
A nudist colony abandoned in the name of belligerent arrows
Collateral damage and indiscriminate targets
The story stemmed from every one begetting each other’s brethren
Breathless cohabitation under the watch of place time and poppies
Fig leaves of duty and denuded trees
Kalashnikovs draped on the snake’s slithering sleaze and corruption
Corporates bonking for virginity and testimony of final selection
Dripping deceit like custard on rotten flesh
Under a mushroom cloud hell fire dispenses irrefutable evidence
That the emperor’s garments are ragged down to a lice infested core
Adam and Eve seek asylum in a mental ward
Bedlam bound in shackles to the jester’s snide mocking applause
Psychotropic injections to remedy catatonic results of one violation
Rape pillage and plunder and Satan as a voyeur
Field brothels and comfort women un-sheath prickly pears in disguise
Persimmon dishes out passion steeled in sharp blades of the paring knife
And so we choke on what should have been celestial food
Pious and devoted to whipped cream and second helpings of anger
We feed on desolate fields and irrigate fear suffocation and slaughter
Eves of destruction and her toy boy sheds venom and pain
25th January 2020
On the window feeder,
Gray and black birds, feathered families,
Playful and perky, frolicking
Like the music beneath their down,
Plumes rich as a caress, stirring joy,
Wonders, shadowed by the pastel noon,
Dreamy hearted wings, graceful
As the moment before lips widen
Into a smile, reflecting all the magic,
Fairy-tale laughter, chirping,
Songs written by the moon and stars,
Silent as the heart, unspoken,
Beyond broken – thoughts soaring,
As the hand releases the seed,
To be devoured by nature’s flock,
Hesitant, nearly weeping,
Reflected on the dew, dripping,
Washing away the dust, the silence,
With a hesitant gaze into yesterday,
Where the prayer, understood,
Weighed the heart, the soul…
On the window feeder,
Standing patient and persistent,
Twittering eagerly, waiting
For the seeds, the kernels, fare
Meant to host the musicians,
Choirs of winged artists,
Stunning performers who calm,
Hush the darkness of a forest,
With their reticence,
Quiet kindness stirring apart,
Trembling leaves,
Breathless oaks, pines,
Memories designed to invite…
Beautiful to the light,
Wonderful to the night,
Magnificent, so glistening, bright.
On the window feeder,
Standing, curious…
Motionless, yet ready to soar,
Rising into the azure skies,
In one fluid motion,
Willowy and wistful, elegant
Nearly as enthusiastic as a star
Glitter from the heavens,
Revealing the treasure of the choir,
Music, praising, ever praising…
From the feeder, where they play,
Follow the leader – a waltz,
Danced perchance, on the winds,
Where hope once promised
Winged blessings, extoled – worship,
Like a lullaby, soft and gentle –
Always remembered!