Best Perking Poems
January is the incunabula of the year
I embrace hugely like my huggable teddy bear
With my new life’s portmanteau inexorably handed over
On that last starry night of a very cold and joyful December
A new portmanteau of life’s flavors and condiments
Portions of joys, pains and many life’s challenges
Mysteriously packed all for me in hope to gird up
To follow whatever roads with valor, love, faith and delight.
I’m eagerly looking forward to what are all in store
Perking up with wonder on a brand new portmanteau as I go aboard
Wanting to share with you whatever great surprises that I may hold
In loving wishes that New Year for you unfolds with moments of gold
Jan. 26, 2015 1.15pm
May I share with you a New Year's poem I wrote last night/early morning. Once again, my warm greetings of belated happy New Year 2015!
First heard the call when three.
Pet store said come and see
and mommy did agree,
every child should have a puppy.
Wanted to get you all the toys,
while blue still ok for boys,
even got us perking and tilting to that noise.
Just before the pounce — the poise.
Made a promise to care for you,
to teach tricks and every clue
in our own nickelodeon blue.
No tics or fleas thanks shampoo
and from under the couch — your favorite chew.
Your doctor is called a vet
for the shots you have to get.
They know the best for a pet
and in time after you have met,
you’ll be all set.
Got to train you to potty,
all dogs start out with just squatty,
but boy dogs learn to pee like they’re doing karate.
Check the floors and don’t step the parts spotty.
Can’t hold it for the first six months — so you’re not naughty.
But soon, after the years go by,
chasing the winter hare and summer fly,
they say like by sevens my
years will have you why
slower but still to try.
You’ll never grow up — just old,
stuck on two for fifteen behold
one hundred and five candles blown cold.
Wag your tail all the way to Heaven and told
don’t need a soul — just a part of God’s mercy to hold.
04.11.21
She came into our lives unbidden,
A pleasant surprise,
Her open heart was never hidden
From her soulful eyes;
She won our hearts with her gentle love,
Always filled with grace,
Her time with us, a gift from above,
Still holds a dear place;
When small, we had fun, running around,
Playing all the time,
Perking up at the tiniest sound,
She raced through life's mime;
With unspoken words, she cared for us,
Active and naughty,
Strutting around queenlike, making fuss,
A little haughty;
Her unwritten absence rankles now,
Blackie in peace sleeps,
For ten years, she brightened our days, how!
Unshed sorrow creeps.
Woken from a sound sleep
listening to the walls breathe
sense something new on the cusp
of my imagination island
ears perking up
feel like I am not alone
hear the last five words of a poem
ideas flickering from my bowels
living poetry is difficult
loving poetry easier
I know a spirit guide is here
wanting me to do something
I wait for a sign
poems nestle in my soul heart
covert missives
espousing a truth
I do not recognize
a complete stanza writes herself
in my mind’s eye
I shudder
time to write
my soul knows
By ears and whiskers, ain't no more
A sadder thing that being in the dog house,
On a rainy day.
Make no bones about it, when momma's
Mad I'm hanging my head low.
Jo dirt has nothing on how bad this hound feels,
But honestly instincts roller, over road wisdom's,
Howling, but I'd mean it dearest sweet mommy.
With woofs and kisses can I make it all better,
It's lonely on this side of the doorway.
With you out there and me in here.
Kibbles my bits I'd give up my
Monthly allotment,
Of bacon bits for a true heart felt,
That a good boy one more time.
If I could I'd bring you a beer,
Just to see that frown disappear.
Perking these two ears up to here,
Your laughter ring out at bed time.
Or a soft whispers friendly voice, speaking
Good night dear old friend.
All four paws down I won't do it again,
Cross this canine's fury little heart.
But the rain keeps falling,
As outside the sunshine is calling,
Our names to be together,
There's no tears like these rainy days.
So I'll sit patiently,
For the sun to rise again in your heart,
When ever that maybe,
Because simply put I'm loyalties pup,
Just waiting for you to bring me
On the right side of
The door once more.
To sit beside thee again.
A companion and dearest friend,
Always letting the sun to shine down
On us forever more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Hear coffee perking
Bacon sizzles on the grill
See neighbor’s cooking
First sip of coffee
Hot enough to burn your tongue
Drink from the saucer
I cherish memories of those long ago mornings,
awakening in an unheated attic room to mingled aromas-
sweet hickory smoke escaping the old wood cook stove,
bacon frying, coffee perking, and biscuits baking.
Outside, a stark landscape in black and white,
whipped by howling wind, that seeking entry,
would expend itself against frosted windowpanes.
Delicate feathers of frost, created by my exhalations
that would spread like smoke throughout the room.
Inside, embraced by a feather mattress, oblivious
to the cold wind and impending morning chores,
I would for a few nefariously delicious moments
again drift away in blissful warmth-
those long ago winter mornings on the farm.
I saw a little birdy - listening
The wind it stops - dawn it breaks
Silence is golden - I do not say a word
The limbs - the clatter against life
The trees stand tall - roots it takes
I heard the raindrops falling to the ground
The river is an overflow that runneth over
Wash up a shore - the fossils I found
She wakes - the rain lets up, the skies clear
Wow - to her spouse she says I love you dear
Perking up - they walk the paths of their garden today
Hand in hand - sway by sway - often dancing
The steps into each others heart- I see
Sitting by the sun coming up while it glows
Hues on their face - rain not a trace
They communicate with loving thoughts per se
I am loving you always and indeed today
Look listening - what are you looking for
I see this beautiful romance taunting me
Each morn we are awoken , today it is silent
Yes mums the word , listening clear
To the beauty of love - loving him dear
Singing in my heart , truly this bird
Waking up at the break of dawn , now silence is heard
Each day it started my beauteous morning off
Missing you ! The life in the soul it died
Now a little angel ! Listening with pried
And now I wake each morn with it in the heavenly sky
Blessed as a couple , wondering yet why
The love for one another shows up on your face
And still singing in your little hearts desire
No longer am I a bird sitting on a wire
Coffee for One
Slowly the morning awakens
Slipping softly into the new day
While pastel dreams
Still paint the horizon
With pensive desires
Water, filter, coffee grounds,
Click the switch, wait
The first song of the day
Finds the birds in chorus
Long before the sun’s face
Peeks its golden head
As veiled visions evaporate
The last gurgle of perking,
cup, sugar, cream, pour, stir
Coffee for one
at the kitchen table
sips of morning pleasure
while the mind remembers
when coffee was for two
By: Debra Squyres
All rights reserved 2013
(cont..) He removed his Stetson cowboy hat and placed it gently on the bowling ball he
had mounted just for that purpose over the heater by the door. He probably didn’t take that
good care of himself, ..but his white Stetson; …that was another story. Scanning across
the room he noticed a folder placed on his old wooden principal’s desk which was a carry
over from the school days complete with carved in initials, misspelled cuss words and the
like. Some day he would paint it….. Yeah, sure he would. He had had all he could do just to
scrape the gum off of it. The folder had a few sheets of paper in it dated just after he had
left for vacation. “Dam! That was a short vacation! ”, he mumbled to the folder as he
opened the flimsy cover.
Just then there was two sharp raps on the door and a uniformed policeman waltzed in sporting a big grin and hollered out, “hey there cowboy! Heard you were back. Ya just couldn’t bear to be away from the action anymore, could ya huh? “
“Hey yeah Tom, I just missed you guys ugly pusses so bad I had to get away from all
those swimsuit clad babes in Florida just to come back to see you! How’s everything been
here Tom….and what action you talkin’ about? Same old sweet vice, theft and murder?”
“Yep and more. It’s all in that folder you’re knuckling onto. Hey I see you ain’;t got your
coffee perking yet. What say I let you catch up on your reading and I’ll go grab us a cup a
mud.Be right back soon as I take care of a little paper work of my own on a little hooker bust
we’ve got goin.” …er.. black right, Bill?
“Huh? ..yeah black. That’d be good…thanks.” Sgt Bill Lipton was already absorbed by the
report staring at him in the folder. It was from the twenty third precinct. He knew a few old
boys over there….He was so intent on what he was reading that he didn’t notice Tom come
in with two cups of hot coffee and a newspaper.
“You lost in that folder, Sarge ?”
“Huh?…ah no…I mean ya,. I guess” , Bill said while frowning at the contents of the folder. He slowly looked up and rubbing his unshaven chin he said…
“Tom,……What the hell is a …Shogun?!
(to be cont. in unison with Richard Pickett Shogun/Samauri Story) Taz says" hey all!"
Under the clanky aluminum conduit
I sit easy eyed, watching
My work boots, drink up rainfall
The lively band above
Reprises once more
Her thunderous piece
Perking up the dog ears
Breaking decibel charts
Notes striking between clouds caress
To release disdain or sorrowful mourn
Release a tsunami of tremor
Heard from the apple boughs
To the endless pastures
Oh, but soon enough it shall pass
Movin' on south, as we tip our dampened cap
Knowing we’ll be on our way
Akin to the skies sliding on south
Lending brightness
An emergence from darkness, one day
(Ars Poetica)
summer rain
- on the window
-- book in hand
---
autumn leaves
- on front yard
-- coffee perking
---
…MORNING TIME
Every morning at four, I hear the slamming of the woodshed door.
The rattle of the poker and the smell of wood smoke, wafting through the air.
It rolls its way up the stair to where I am sleeping there.
The smell of homemade bread, toasting on the large black kitchen stove,
With coffee perking.
There’s honey and home churned butter, oatmeal hot, and brown sugar sweet.
Milk is ready to be strained and put in large steel milk pails.
Auntie’s in her Kitchen but has Uncle George to meet.
Now done with my breakfast and out the door, I run.
Up in the battered rusty truck, truck I jump, and so does good, old Shep.
It’s off to Grandfather’s farm we roll.
The sun is coming up on Brett Road, and smiles across the family farmland.
I see my Grandpa Billy and Great Grandpa Rufus comes with a limp
Outa’ the chicken coop, with brown eggs in a basket, as the cat’s wrap around his feet.
He comes up to greet with a large toothless grin and great bear hands he grabs and hugs me, His little JoAnne.
OUR LIBRARIAN
I once remember the
Librarian in my college
Meticulous ,and savvy
His love for knowledge
Knows no bound.
I once remember the
Librarian in my University
A man with a large heart for others
His glasses perking on his nose
His Professorial “penkelemesi” like
Grey hair connotes love for research.
But
I cannot but ask which librarian is this?
I cannot but query the insidious sudden
Love of this Huckster for knowledge
I cannot but be surprised at his hubbub
Declaration for his Library launch.
Oh ye people of our land!
Lets all give ovation du applaud to
Our land’s new Librarian.
The very one who rakes in seven
Of a billion cowries in a hurry
In the all looters Library launch.
The very one whose hatred for education
Towers so high and hit all towers of ivory.
The very atrocious leader of the ruling bandit
Whose avidity for money stares us in the face.
The very leading African Chimera whose
Chicanery we cannot measure
Has now suddenly fall in love with knowledge.
The very blood brother of “Haruna”on our campus
Who votes irritating meager resources for education
He is now our own celebrated Librarian.
The very illiterate Mechanic whose
Baleful gaze alone destroys our land’s Library
He is now our dreadful Librarian.
Sorry ,we know our Librarians
Our Libraries , we are acquainted with
Our Libraries are of obsolete materials
Ours is of more archaic facilities
With books and non books available
Two moons ago still branded new editions
This is our own Libraries.
Let the new Librarian disburse the seven
Of a billion cowries to our Libraries
Let him pump cowries into our education
Let their be more modern Libraries in our land
For is it of a nation that values knowledge
That gets the best of knowledge today and morrow .
Alayande Stephen .T
16th April, 2006
05.25pm
For Mr President 's special Library launch.
Zerk was a lurking berserk
who lived in the murky-murk of the cirque
by the smirking Turk
Zerk was irking a-jerkin’ and a draught of perkin
Zerk was a-joying his shirker’s approach towards work
Zerk was a-starking, a-barking, and a-marking the world with his dirk
Zerk was a-perking for a-harking about bo-razzle and bo-really fools
Zerk was a-quirking, an abundance of uncorking bottles, un-forking sustenance,
and un-storking women
Zerk was not a follower of any kirk
Zerk was a-hoping to clerk for an irksome and biased hipster jerk
Zerk was always a-hanging out with his friends Breschel, and Lurch
Zerk contributed his artwork to the world,
Zerk was by no means a berk, instead he was quite the intellectual quirk
Zerk was always a-yerking out at the berks with his political and philosophical propaganda
Zerk was always a-chirking up Lurch with his meditative-mindset