Best Spilt Milk Poems

The little boy in blue, with shirt of silk
Caused Mary Tuppet to spill  her  milk
When  the cat came in to take ...

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“Spilt Milk”



Warm milk 
before bedtime
spilt before sleep

The salty tear
in a body of work 
along the dark line kissed

steamed open
like an envelope
secrets laid bare

reveling in whispers
moist...

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Captive damsel of creative-writing programs,   
Personalized, eulogized job of small groups,  
The frenetic activities handy to very few,  
Poetry now belongs...

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"Backhand"



You have turned me
inside out, cut open
like a tennis ball
I used to beat backhand
along with the racket
hard against the garage wall

To make sense of it...

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Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparents' grand home
for Christmas.

It was a gracious dining...

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My Tears


I am crying, for you, for me, for then and now.
I can hear you saying, “Don’t cry my love,
Not for spilt milk
Just talk to...

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Coconut mind 
Practical 
At first thought.
But all that lays inside 
is the same milk you expected.
Sometimes the milk is worse.
My limbs flop around like a...

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Statistics never lie.

 The indecisive coconut just hung. 
He waited and waited, 
swayed a little 
in the tropical breeze 
but just hung. 
A big fat...

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Captive damsel of creative-writing programs,  
Personalized, eulogized job of small groups,     
Quo Vadis poetry, a damsel in distress?

The frenetic activities...

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Under inexorable gravity’s pull,
galaxies often move toward one another.
Closer and closer they come to each other,
till astronomic smashups happen in full.

For no less than two...

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The feeling of getting rocked for the first time is 
like losing your virginity. How I rise from the producers
decides if I like going down...

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When I recall the spilt milk of my youth I want to cry 
regardless of all the water that has passed under the bridge.

 On quiet...

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Confidence fades away
Clothes to the wind
My cracking glass, the nightscape
Contorted into vixen reds and apparition dark
Seventeen

Kitsch eyes, as kitsch as a child
Crying in a kitchen...

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Wanton words or bits of paper
Flotsam and jetsam or progenitors
Damp squibs or ticking time bombs
Collect..and recollect
Their golden worth, silverfish and all
Revived or transmigrated
To touch earth’s...

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The coming of the new year brings forth hope
Yes, over spilt milk, I intend not to mope

The coming of the new year brings forth strength
Strength...

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