Best Necklaced Poems
Love comes in all
shapes and sizes – Thank God!
Myself having evolved in some
rather, undesirable directions...
But what is the same anymore?
Environmentalists say, not the sky!
Not the seas! (Seagulls flying off
with bees to who knows where?)
As those wide-open spaces – gone!
Concrete and steel having replaced
colorfully tinted rural faces, with grimacing
gray features – tenements rabid with crime
and moral filth...desperately in need
of far more heavenly graces – or, at the least,
the lofty illusions pearl-necklaced TV Moms
once gave us.
Libraries, the sacred cloisters of
of enchanted places and mystical dreams,
no longer bearing, at the least
informative fruits for deliberative
minds; such institutions polluted
with Liberal Politics, personal greed
coupled with insane hunger for
for power over more docile others,
a hollowing of the human soul
leaving a bitter emptiness
and disconnect where once
thrived the fertile seeds of cooperative
living...
So, what is the new normal?
Hell if I know! Politicians
speaking out of both sides of
elongated, medically enhanced
lying mouths – technically new?
Educators enunciating with their
backsides – but now their pant’s fully down,
Punctuating a Marxist agenda, their
transforming goals openly on display --
perhaps for them, a new honesty?
College students confused as to which
way to turn in bed – enough to confound
the most flexible contortionist….
Thank God for alcohol!
A familiar scene to all who walk this lovely
Spot, as into view close by the river path
Comes something which is not
The usual day-to-day. All who pass her pause,
Then stop to gaze on Haguthorn's display,
Beyond any season's best this year
And many pose a selfy, or compose
Admiring shots. Two neigbour trees
Beside the Thames compete,
In different ways, though one outshines
The other with its beauty on display.
A thousand crimson berries deck this finer
Necklaced tree, which is barren of all leaf
As admirers plainly see, while beside this jewelled
Haw Is a Holly fully wreathed, yet without her
Scarlet trophies, save for one or two beneath.
The cameras and the selfies look for one
Shot in their lense, the one which bears
Abundant fruit is posted to dear friends.
It's Hawthorn hedge still keeps to shape
The fields and country lanes, while Holly only
Decks the halls and then comes down again.
Haw berries heal the weakened heart
and gladden hearts with wine.
Haw adorns spring with bridal gown
And sustains the winter singing thrush
Though holly seems the finer crown
It's thrown by end of Christmas rush.
When all season's fuss is come and gone
Haw's bearing of abundant fruit
Gains true 'welcome!', and 'Well done!'
fog at dawn
necklaced cobwebs
allure
entranced
passers-by
I descend from Prussian tradition full of frozen rain and fire’s marches
Lagoons and marshes my father and history know about the Baltic Sea where
amber
swims ashore adorned jewelry of hearts and minds now on my lover’s slender
neck
We share ancestral stories my wife and I of concentration camps and necklaced
innocents declared informers in Apartheid set alight with tyres in hateful petrol
fumes
and Jewish screams to Genesis in the beginning that was the word when ashes
upon ashes
held all Phoenix’s aground and violence and genocidal anger knows no
boundaries
In flaked photographs and winter ember days set aside for prayer to the
Universe
avalanches and winter glows are waiting for the solitude of summer’s dawning
when Christmas is just another Sudan desert day abandoned by the God of
hellfire
Equidistance from Johannesburg and Koenigsberg belies the message flies away
from Peace
lie lies and old recurrent news in which winter landscapes rarely light the hollow
eyed
children’s dreams but glowing coal burns brightly when the sky erupts and
hallowed
bombs fall from heaven and I declare snowflakes and ember a luxury problem in
my soul
on the wind
a bell tolls
memories surface
words unerased-
the image fades
with a tremor of light-
daybreak tinges
the nigrescent sky grey-
the horizon appears
distinct in my mind's eye
without-
the waning sun
warms my face
shalom cloaks
the wells within
hanging from the trees
winter fog welcomes the dawn
and obscures the light--
cobwebs shimmer
necklaced to the hedge
huddled together
from the heeting rain
the unbrellas moc the hearse-
then in twos
slowly separate
the diary
fell
pages scattered the floor
memories lie
just out of reach
spoor tracks
imprint
the virgin snow-
footsteps of yesteryear
echo in my mind
hunger haunts each daytime hour
coldness kills at night
thus
nature's foodchain
perpetuates
chill breath
of dawn lights
upon my window-pane
nighttimes promises
freeze into crystal
fog at dawn
necklaced cobwebs
allure
entranced
passers-by
above the still strand
shrieks of seagulls
die on the inshore breeze-
our twin footsteps disappear
as sunset dissolves
the heatwave
of an August dog-day
a flash
distant thunder-
rain drops
november the fifth-
layered rolls of liquid fog
envelope the bonfire-
the party becomes a
damp squib
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
and twittering left par wren
dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
corrective punctuation measure
slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
for so many yen,
thus see slipped thru my excellent
proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe
(though a bit fishy),
could be found necessitating cauldron
only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
aye didst make whoosh,
hence, went there and came back
and frankly tubby earnest,
thence began stir'n
a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
Hannibal the cannibal
asper what to do
in order (I explained)
to sever livingsocial,
and forever hang my head in shame
cuz, accidentally omitting
one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
(sans error free grammarian
reputation pitched downward
where careless evinced
Kamikaze nosedive, where
matter of fact gross humiliation
instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
compunction viz, grievously
blatant Anglo Saxon
Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
incorrigible, and unforgivable
literary faux pas incurring
major cosmic event
stripped of title special
Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.
Green carpet fields, laid seamed and edged
with berry hedge
and windswept tufted trees hemline the valley stream that cuts through to the sea.
Coarse bracken covers the higher cliff,
with feather ferns in darker damper climbs
beside the path's incline.
Here sloes display September's hues - softened bloom on velvet blues.
Blackberry brambles necklaced red and black
their spangled jewels among the thorny tangles
where many feet have passed beside this trodden path.
High above, a silhouette against the sky, held there by the upward lift of wind, above the land-slipped cliff,
a Peregrine hangs with quivered pinion wings,
a master of its feathered span.
With stationed head his keen eyes scan.
Then off on swing with gliding bow before the bird returns to hold once more, then drop with close-fold wings down to the grassy floor to disappear from sight.
Beyond, now focussed into view, below horizon's silver line, a small white sail and jib command the breezy sea.
Both man and bird display with ease their timeless gift, with God alone sustaining both as Spirit breathes,
but neither know.
Seeing this alone, and only with grace-gifted eyes, I in silent wonder laud each their perfect mastery to their master and their Lord.
NATURE’S CHAIN
a thick mist blankets the winter dawn---
necklaced jewels bedeck the hedge, winter arrives late ,in the forest a stoat melts into a snowdrift; Thermals rising with brown buzzard ground circling
silhouetted, shadowed before slaying
darkness descending slowly,out of the silence
of the winter's night,a single owl screech
hunger which haunts each dark hour,as coldness kills
Listen to me read this poem on youtube under name ichthyschiro
A venetian red yearling’s head
Pops up
From behind a fallen log
Licks rouge from its lips
And the syrup sipped from dark maple bark
Ears tweaking
To the snow-crunch creak
Of my dog and me approaching
From down the trail
Forest
Tamed by these trampled snow-winding paths
The deer doesn’t flinch
Up ahead
Top of the trash receptacle
Is aflutter with cardinals and sparrows
Though observed
The object has not coalesced to solid reality
Remains a quiver of particles
Withering with infinite probabilities
This should not be
Ah
I see
What it is
Slices of strawberry apple orange watermelon banana cherry
Have been perfectly aligned spaced and placed
By somebody
As juicy trails of treats for the starving
Collection of fruit on a countertop log
Tapped across a fencepost
Table-topped to a stump
Necklaced across a trailhead sign
Little delectable rainbows scattered by a hand
All over the park
Flamingos may come
Hearing these rumors
I imagine
The feminine work behind these succulent lifesavers
The work of a woman
A mother
An older lady
Who was determined that morning
Packing plastic baggies the night before
With morsels carefully counted out
To be fair
With a lovely variety of fruit
Pinched and selected from grocery store shelves
Sliced precisely by her parry knife
Sorry if that presumption is not acceptable
In this modern age
But we all know it’s true
And is beautiful
Call her a wayward witch
An angel
Messalina
Daughter of Cleopatra
Mistress to Van Gogh
Wife of Jesus
A goddess of which we’d be so much better
If she were
To rule over
The velvet corners of the Earth
From a garden throne
Men like me
Bowed to her knee
Like these animals and birds that she’s fed
Today
Beholden to the world of majik
Yes
We’d be so much better
If we were fed from the broken-braceleted hand
Of a woman
Who
From her kitchen window
And snake-led dreams at the flight of her feet
Is unafraid to say
I do not fear you
I will bring forgiveness to the creatures of winter
Startle the men who pass by
I will feed them all
The fruit of my Knowledge.
winter fog at dawn-
cobwebs shivver
necklaced to the hedge
against the sky
stark tree silhouettes -
arbor assemblage unveiled
Whit wet Vetted Splendour...
Pervaded mounded jeweled ground
gunmetal sky incessantly
pelted and did pound
asper staccato round
arhythmic, emphatic, melodic sound
to this clown,
who felt housebound
as precipitation reigned down.
steady rain quintessentially
patterned oodles of necklaced
mini mellow marsh lands
wee hour early this morn
after drenching rain abated,
I set foot upon the sponge
bobbing soaked boggy badlands
highland manor saturated
feet immediately sank deep
quickly submerged whole body
subterranean suction suffocated
without objection relinquished
superfluous lifesource (mine)
feeble writer (me)
oblivious pathetic simian
high jinxed human
resigned purposelessness necessitated
liberating meaningless NON GMO
gluten/ monosodium glutamate
free corporeal essence
hungrily gulped into Gaia's maw
vanished without a trace
transubstantiated (uber vacuumed)
wrought into indiscriminate
requisitioned, repurposed, reincarnated,
recycled carbon based materials,
where sedimentary processes metamorphosed
formerly insignificant (lava lee
liquidated louche) passively
recalcitrant know-nothing
dynamic forces glommed,
within whirling wide
webbed sized cauldron
crucible distilled basic
constituent building blocks
combining deciduous non
bull leaf ving Earthling
(poet wannabe) unrecognizable
disseminating Harris jackknifed ludicrous
johnny come lately
legend (nixed son)
across avast subterranean
shiftless tectonic world
property, asper oblate spheroid
incorporated within manifold biosphere
improbable far fetched fluke
identical likeness of self,
(nor any deceased life replicated)
will ever trod this planet again!
O Marchsillypus!
Sour apples, roaring dandelions
lambykins and daffodils
furglowering seeds
blown through sweetling fingers
and tweedy cantankerous fiends
with the fierceness of lions
toss the bouncing balls
of lollypopkins into streets
not made of gold
to save his much too lawngreen soul
except for honeysweet grandma types
who stomp on the old man’s toes
he cries with defeat
as his sprinkler tears torture more seeds to sprout
and poppop is forced to pat
candy-necklaced twins
softly on their wretched heads
his sentinel-wife sanctimonious with arrowslant eyes
will reprise a kick in his bumbum
if he doesn’t likewise pat their furpet
who tinkles and wrecks havoc
O sillysourpusskin
your dreams are afright
not for sun days but treacherous nights
3/10/2021
JUST A SILLY POEM!
fog at dawn
necklaced cobwebs
allure
entranced
passers-by
NOTE:A tanka in English is essentially a 3 line hiku(SHOW)with a couplet amplification (TELL)
VERMEER’S GIRLS
Girl with a jug or necklaced
with pearls,lute and guitar
over the centuries seen from
afar.In intricate detail,a patient
design, of portraits in time.
These looks of love into
eternity’s mirror.Their beauty
his art with a delicate touch,now
frozen in time.Which muse shall
we choose,and which to lose.
Listen to me read this and others at this link
http://youtube.com/ichthyschiro
hanging from the trees
a Fall mist
obscures the light--
cobwebs shimmer
necklaced to the hedge