Best Plates Poems
Old men gayish twirls in anger
smashing plates as fools do
like hurricanes on the horizon
cavemen blamed the weather
Gods anger they said
one thousand gods later
only old men still angry
fools in caves
buildings crumble
the void laughs
The ground rumbles, ominously, I'm on the steep side of a Mississippi River Bluff, mid-August, gathering bursting crimson red trophies of Staghorn Sumac for my favorite sumac-ade, a spright, invigorating tonic I enjoy this time of year. The smell in the air, forest-sage beginning to dry and ripen, the bitter tang of scattered paper-birch bark chimneys...must keep alert for the origins of the earthly rumble.
The unsettled earth, sweet and bitter smells...mix with my age and I sit down as if in a trance and drift asleep...harkening back to my training as a young man in a Manhattan Bagel Deli, assembling prep-stations for the customer onslaught about to descend. Proofed bagel dough, seeded and rotating in the elevator slate-shelved oven after a frothy malt-bath in the bubbling giant kettle, delectable aromas of fairly vibrating paper-sliced spiced meats and piquant aged cheeses, briny sheets of smoked lox, pots of sweetly acidic capers and luminous heirloom tomatoes...
But I'm much older now, my mind remembers, but my body can't function like it once did, I can't perform the once-easy configurations effortlessly like before.
The rumbling, just my imagination...
I awaken, gather my bunch of fluorescent sumac, which I am still able to concoct, mindful of God's Grace in my spiritual and physical evolution...He
Has Blessed me with.
8-13-20
6:03 am
Withered hands
Gold trimmed plate.
Crashed. BROKEN
To be its fate. Times and
Times again.
Review shards to be
Reglued. Never the same
Design. If that, then a
Kindred mind? Who fused
The perplexing design.
THEN a crescendo
Cascaded feet away.
Rushed TO fractured
FINE CHINA.
A MOSAIC EVENT
SMOTHERED DINNING
ROOM tiles. Even then
Time did not recognize
The task at hand. None
The less, urgency the
Atmosphere. SHOVEL WITH
CARE. MY DEAR, MY DEAR
MY DEAR. FOOD must soon be
Prepared.
My wooden dappled rocking horse
Chomping at the bit
Eyes deranged with fearsome fire
Does make my stomach flit
And whilst we race
At perfect pace
Within the purple yonder
No time to sit on laurels dear
Blow dandelions nor ponder
In hot pursuit
And silver soup
Carrots golden tempt refined
Forgetting where from whence they came
(So pitifully mined)
Past burnt glades
And auburn maids
All leaning at the fence
Smiling cheering so enthusiastic
Glorious pretence
The finish line is not yet raised
Nor shall it be
If ever
So I'll just smile and veer off course
And stroke a peacock feather
For in it's eye
Down to it's base
Generous shades to bring a smile
Hues of horizons past and fore
To relish for a while
Once I de board my rocking horse
And accept what is my fate
Mushy peas and stodgy pie
Upon a paper plate
My cloche has stains
Yet it remains
Firmly on my head
Whist ladybirds move in deceived
As they are born and bread
A spotted array
On golden hay
Smiles at nought at all
Just tinkers on dreams of better things
Wishing....
That is all
(please note the rocking horse represents my sense of urgency when i was younger to achieve something... anything)
Death Row Dinner Plates
Did you ever wonder what Ted Bundy ate
As his last meal – you no longer need wait
An artist is painting death row dinner plates
I found them today on the web
One inmate requested white meat KFC
Black walnut ice cream, pecan pie (sugar free)
Indian fry bread and milk it would be
I saw that today on the web
Another inmate, a meat lover’s delight
Ordered pound upon pound and a beer (make it light
And then he refused to take even a bite
I saw his plate there on the web
Some went for simple, an apple, some spam
A salad, some French fries, or just toast and jam
A lot of fast food, no one ordered lamb
Their plate’s pictured there on the web
John Wayne Gacy had shrimp, a dozen deep fried
A KFC bucket and French fries he cried
A whole pound of strawberries before he died
You can find it out there on the web
And as for Ted Bundy, he didn’t much care
So they gave him a steak cooked medium rare
Eggs over easy, hash-browns, toast and a pear
I found that today on the web
One point that I’m trying to make with this poem
Even on death row, you’re not eating alone
They note what you order and soon it is shown
On a plate that is sold on the web
mental mind
of the slipping kind
you been
trip-en so divine
here in your sick little willful hive
you've been acting so unkind
just to rap your hands around
my swishy, dishy, hip lyrics here
its driven you to find
me to be of the simple mind
but have no fear i see you clear
you are of the criminal kind
and would like it if
i wrote you the greatest of designs
but this is no
because i don't want to be a music hoe
so take a hike
and find some one
who want to write
When I think of all the times my parents took me to the circus when I was young…I’m filled with all the memories that thought creates…one of my favorite memories was watching those jugglers spinning plates.
The juggler would place a plate upon a pole…then looking out at the audience and. grinning, he or she, with deft of hands, would start that plate to spinning.
Then they’d place another plate on another pole…and another…and another…all the while still grinning…until there were a bunch of plates on a bunch of poles and all the plates were spinning.
The juggler would run from plate to plate with but one objective…one aim…one goal…
to make sure every plate kept spinning on each and every pole.
When I was young the lesson in those spinning plates didn’t occur to me…
until years later when I was married…with a job…and a family.
In the beginning it was effortless and you’d always find me grinning…
with a wife and a job…just two plates…it was easy to keep them spinning.
Add children and friends and more responsibilities and it became harder to keep all my plates spinning…at first I was a little overwhelmed..and you wouldn’t alway find me grinning.
Until one day I realized…as each morning out of bed I climb…all that each plate needs from me…is a little of my time.
A little time to keep each plate balanced…a little time to keep each one spinning…
A little time with each plate…and all of us are grinning.
And I’m happy with my life shaped by destiny…the one I helped create…
where a little time is all I need to balance every plate.
Which is why, now, with my life in balance…
with every plate up and spinning…
like those jugglers in the circus…
you will always find me grinning.
As infrequent a visitor
hayrides through haunted woods are
to the segregate’s prison of elm and oak
is the sliver of Ray-ban hope
I used to count on
for steady supplies of vegetation
on my salad plate,
overgrown now with yellow seed
blossoming dollops of strawberry preservative.
Light bursts
Ignite in the sky
Gouging cracks and
Holes through
The darkness
Now a nagging goading
In my ear
Noom-Kaboom
Titanic sky plates grind
Outa State Plates
Billy Bob and Jimbo’s jaws dropped
Along with Mrs. Miller’s porcelain plates
Caught in the act
Two fools perpetrating a dish stealing crime spree
Unsavory, onerous in nature, by the perpetrators
Smashed to bits were dishes and windows
Scattered about the basement floor
The old widow’s china lay destroyed
Add Breaking and entering to the charges
A total disregard for the keeping of the peace
Not to mention the deprivation of sleep
The Sheriff cornered them there in their get away
Escaping with a salvaged plate or two
“What are you boys up to?”….ventured the law
Stunned, short winded, and caught, they replied;
“We like the pretty designs on these things officer sir.’
“They have fancy writing too.”
“We were just borrowing them for a while….thank you.”
The old lady enlightened the gathering
“They’re priceless antiques from Germany!”
The Sheriff took Billy Bob and Jimbo away
Charged them with stealing outa state plates
How will eyes take these sights of our page into your head...brimming us into shape,
Shapening us into a Perfect and Humble salient form,
We gave time for much Travel,Leisure and more of our attending grace,
Highands,No sights of second world war Brigands...Sahara,Sahel,Atacama and Two salient
hold downs.
The days are drawing nigh For Roman Ranks...Spartan hands...Laity of peace,
Those Jabociks,Bejovics,Seignors and Two plates of Mastedons,
All washed down with half a glass of strng "Jacob's Troubles-On-The-Rocks",
Is that my callup to a more Imperial post of 'Two Royal seats and a crown' How good how
Comely...let's thank God for his Awesomeness,His grace and In our life HIS Radiant FACE.
Nucleic fused words...Fragile was what they labeled it,
Agile was the very Verb your Human Monkeys use to keep guard on Earth's Territorial
Jagged Fronters,
Science and Ficton who endorsed the patent to Run-on two like..and Unlike poles.
The evident Race against a Heart's Pace.
cortex aMYADALA
cribriform pLATES
cINGULATE gYRUS
PUSSY WILLOW
PUSSY WILLOW
THE SOFT BRANCHES
OF LOVE
PUSSY WILLOW
PUSSY WILLOW
THE SOFT COMFORTS
OF LOVE DEFINED
A sepia scene
from history-
leaps to the
here and
now.
Plates
get broken;
Sometimes hearts do too,
shattering into pieces;
Feel;
Heal;
Sometimes faces leave traces;
Accept the fixed scars;
Choice earmarked
parts.
Two fresh plates to adorn my humble chariot.
The one on top had the honor of being mounted at the front,
as my customary parking pattern
is to back into a space on the far side of the garage.
But soft ... was it an honor?
To be figurehead, first to see, noble vanguard,
and yet,
bombarded for countless hours by suicidal bugs,
dust, gravel, and mud.
The rear plate will soon be far cleaner,
and has the quiet, reflective view of what has passed.
Though it might wish for the electric thrill
of seeing things first.
I wonder which the plate on top would prefer,
if it had more claim than its fellow below.
But fate granted me judicial clarity.
Top is front; bottom is back.
Different fates - each with their own charm.
Grow not envious, o plates.
Your positions both have great beauty.
18 November 2022