Best Mallets Poems

I miss so many things: the old pear tree, which once lived by the walk and the bees inside. The bees almost never stung, but...

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your brittle hands were once like mallets    upon the lace of my youth



picture #2...

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CHANGE by Ian Munywe
upon his visage boasts sweat,industry an upheld virtue.
firm stature is exhibited,hard labour an accepted custom.
a time for toil yearns,wheat and other victuals...

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Long spider fingers wielding bells
and mallets and chimes,
sounded like what love should be, like astronomy,
like the glitter on their black silk shirts.
The music sprinkled galactic...

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Soft mallets play the xylophone
In comes the low note g on trombone
Two hard mallets add their sound
There's no dry bones around

Soon the sound of a...

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The lions are not called upon to dance,
                 ...

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MRS. SOCIETY WEARS IT TO ALL FORMAL EVENTS

So they trekked up the mountain covered with snow
surrounded by white with only one place to go
they were...

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They are in need of me today
of all days
so the table can be set with unbent forks
and their silent
roosters--ye soft wattles play on.
White linen veils
the...

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I quite enjoyed writing these two line poems for the Bantu contest - the idea of the call and response with two different statements but...

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On the bus,
On the bus,
On the bus,
Again.

Practicing the beats,
On the back of a seat,
All I can feel,
The beat on my seat too.

Cause we're the band...

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You pick roses
And bundle them together
As I watch from the door
Like piles of sand
Pressed against the shore
Now the flowers are dead
Petals fall from your hand
Away...

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It's not really fair for the one who stays in fear of being defeated, whose choices are swept away by the other's single choice is...

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Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers don't grow deaf,
they become deeper, more blunted,
like mallets.

His apartment is disorderly,
tools...

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Emilia In Romagna

Somewhere a lost little girl
Is crying in her bedroom closet
Because she can’t hear
Her mama
Moving about anymore
She can see dim shapes
Mama stored stuff in...

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With palms so chaste and a grip so pure
She wraps her fingers around the mallets
Letting them sit in the space between her thumbs and first...

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