Best Piped Poems

Excitement filled the bushland as December was near
Every creature had been waiting for Christmas time - all year.
Wallabies hung their stockings on a  gumtree branch with care
Just as all nice children do – everywhere.

Meanwhile those more up to date logged on the internet
sending E...

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from suffering and pain
that is piped into veins
by the organ-less master
who relentlessly plays

from a congested gutter
of fake themes
hiding in deception
and callous clutter

from distaste of the old
the sick the poor and uninvited

from the self-imposed
silent deaf and short-sighted

I rise
as a bed of plume feathers
carry me gently towards
an...

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Alone,
slicked with sweat,
and hearing the locusts’ cries 
deep in my neck,
I stood over the remains 
of Sal Paradise.
 
The spotty grass 
around the tombstone
was browned and littered
with trodden Camel filters
and corroded bottle caps.
 
I reached into 
my inspired rucksack
and discovered a Deutchmark,
forgotten like a sleepy...

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The Pied Piper from New York City – Part Two

This is quite despicable and very inappropriate for someone holding the 
“Highest Office in Our Land.” The Pied Piper hides his treachery by
Wrapping himself in the glory of the “Stars and Stripes.” Talk about
True shame! He...

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Let me fly
Let me soar
soar like a bottle rocket
soar like shooting star
star of the sapphire sky
star of the multi-verse
multi-verse of endless song
multi-verse of ballads formed
formed of shatters she's
formed of immortality
immortality unformed
immortality of thought
thought of rainbows
thought of waterfalls
waterfalls of prism light
waterfalls of tears
tears from children
tears from...

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Skipping along with three friends by her side
Anticipation was high.
Whirling tornadoes had long disappeared;
Not a dark cloud in the sky.

Yellow as daffodils was the brick road,
Yellow the ripening corn,
And it had coloured the heart of the lion
Leaving him sad and forlorn.

Suddenly Dorothy stopped in her...

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The lemurs perched on branches,
Fluffy tails all hanging down;
Their faces looked like rubber
And their fur was russet brown.

There might have been a dozen
In this part of the display,
When something happened that
I don’t think happens every day.

A piercing, noisy, clamorous
Cacophony of sound
Erupted from these animals;
Their terror...

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In the skies over Inverness
is light-play on an annual quest
and pipers in kilts come to play along
with the aurora’s lovely song.

Moonbeams shy in aurora’s light
give way to flowing waves so bright.
Cosmic charged particles from the sun
are sure to leave no coloring undone.

Echoes of piped tunes...

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I took myself walking the other day,
not far from the city's decay

A small patch of solitude beckoned to me,
'til I came to take rest,by the old stump of a tree.

Sure I took myself walking and alone here I sit,
disgusted with life and close to a...

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massive oak timbers 
hearty men piped to action
mighty war machine
planks resisted cannonballs 
like our nation, still afloat...

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(Transit Lounge, Dubai International Airport, circa 2007)


He answered
that he was from far Kazakhstan, 
“Exotic place,” he added,
which I know but could not pinpoint 
on my mental map.

She smiled
and said, “I am from India somewhere
farther to the northeast bordering China.”
“Hence her fairer skin,” I thought.

And she...

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When I was a child in Los Angeles, you could size up groups approaching by watching their movements.

I remember this gang of older kids approaching me, watching them carefully while looking down to see if they would follow me as I cross over the other...

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Oh, my, how excited, elated, I would be
to receive sudden financial prosperity.
The true appeal would not be the tangible
but the freedom I have longed to handle.

It is so easy and fun to imagine
the idyllic dream-cottage I would fashion.
If my pen and intent have successful flair,
Perhaps...

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I turned the key,
pressed the gas pedal.
The motor belched
the starter grated.

“No. Not today!
I can’t be late.
I’m teaching the class.
I have to be there!”

Our three-year-old
piped up from the back seat,

“Try it again, Mom.”

The motor coughed, caught,
settled to a steady purr.
My little two-cylinder Fiat,
slow, but steady as...

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Old Elms in the Snow

It snows this day
upon Your work.
The elms seem sad,
their bark wrinkled fingers
aimlessly appoint. 

Piped in ermine, winter
ballerina limbs
take permanent position,
frozen supplicant or
petrified pirouette.

Winter grows still
my God.

Kathryn M. Collins...

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