Best Smocks Poems

What’s fair is fair

I walked into Macys Department Store the other day
thinking I’d buy a few items for the summer
I entered on the first floor and was met by
counter after counter of cosmetics and perfume
with finely made up women in fancy smocks 
just waiting to...

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Drop cloth dreams  


It has been found that given enough time
failure will find this destined loser
lurking in gallery tints
and watercolor fault lines

semi gloss replaced by flat

Painting abstract nothings
on a canvas made of words
Broken brushes stain the existing
balance with a voice that collects the remnants

speaking...

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Once the name of *Lord Ram is rammed in your heart
Everything you’ve -fortune, freedom, fullness and fame
To act in the situations of pleasure, pain, loss and gain
And in every walk of life unfailingly you will get alert.

The Ram is a male of the sheep symbolizing...

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Yet at this very moment the cathedral was crumbling
down upon the cries of foresaken refugees, 
the monastery's walls wobbling from war's wreckage, 
and as the black bursts billowed into sun drenched brutality
with the bodies of abandoned country folk
crushed in the rubble of new era ruins
Krout...

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Imitation! Creative Compliment, Lacking in Originality, or Plagiarism? 

This week takes me back to college days. I was taking a graduate course (as a Physics major)   in 'Modern Poets' at the University of Oklahoma. Our assignment for the week was to write a...

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*Image of Dr. Harold Shipman by Film Daily.

Dr. Harold Shipman: Judge & Executioner: REVISED

The D.A. hoped
a tenth suffice
although they moped
much more be nice
but after all
who'll question his
a man of gall
and expertise.

Who walked about
so well at ease
that no one doubt
he's worth his fees
cause dead, don't shout
he...

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J ackets made of wool and wearing heavy socks

A nother winter Jack Frost has come to visit 

C onstant protection with hand made smocks

K eeping the winter season quite exquisite



F reezing cold weather with temperature personified

R ime incrustations of crystal ice droplets

O paque snow floating...

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Everyone in town knows
Philmon is a mad scientist
It's not his little hunchback buddy
Or the crazy smocks in which he's always dressed

It's not the lighting clouds over his house
Or the strange sounds from which his basement grew
No, it's not any of those things
That gives the town...

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Should I, mere a rabbit of sand, shiny hair,
sport a shock of fur mired in clay,
they from gofer mounds, propped on to peer, would sound warning
through the sun glades and sleep grotto shades.

“A pall fellow lights whereupon we here graze.
See ye lithely to him yield...

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Cousin Donald Comes to Town ...

Elroy was all cock-a-hoop cos
cousin Donald was a-comin'
a visiting & they were so darn
chuffed & tremblin' in anticipation
that friday night the seven of them
in the one bed had a real problem
actually sleeping.

Ma got out the best crockery
& had it laid...

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Everyone in town knows
Philmon is a mad scientist
It's not his little hunchback buddy
Or the crazy smocks in which he's always dressed

It's not the lighting clouds over his house
Or the strange sounds from which his basement grew
No, it's not any of those things
That gives the town...

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In A Suburban Paradise

I was to spend hours on my bed 
writing short stories in 1967;
with my left leg dangling over the left side, 
I sat on the right leg,
like I was some nosy bird nesting on a log, 
watching life and its endless intrigues,
concerning...

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Are There Angels?

There are angels in the city
Angels in the trees
An angel in your pocket
Pick any one of these
There are angels in your backseat
Angels on your dash
Angels that you might meet
If ever you should crash
There are angels in the schoolrooms
There are angels in your church
Angels...

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Everyone in town knows
Philmon is a mad scientist
It's not his little hunchback buddy
Or the crazy smocks in which he's always dressed

It's not the lighting clouds over his house
Or the strange sounds from which his basement grew
No, it's not any of those things
That gives the town...

Continue reading...

Listening
As grooves whirl
A familiar track,
Once familiar refrains
Recall the vintage
Of innocence.

Scratched
In almost forgotten places,
The sound is altered ...
Yet I hear a cadence of the time
When sweet flowers grew
In an English country garden.


Inspired by a folk song I listened to while growing up during the 1960s :...

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