Best Toque Poems
Take away my static hair,
My thick, wool toque, my glassy eyes.
Take away the chilly air,
The endless clouds, the covered skies.
Give me back my sun-streaked hair,
My floppy hat, my shaded eyes.
Give me back the sea-salt air,
The fluffy clouds, the crystal skies.
Take away my dull, dry skin,
My soggy mitts, my booted feet.
Take away the frosty wind,
The icy paths, the slushy streets.
Give me back my sun-tanned skin,
My denim shorts, my flip-flop feet.
Give me back the toasty wind,
The sparkling dunes, the sandy streets.
Take away harsh Winter's sting,
His gales of hail, his banks of snow.
Give me back my darling Spring,
Her rising sun, her lovely glow.
Father’s day…
That old familiar ache in my heart returns along with a lump in my throat.
I become distant as that day grows closer, not taking in much of anything
anyone has to say … my only thoughts of you.
I find the sweater I gave you on Father’s Day, 12 years ago; when you sat
on the porch in the blistering heat, wearing it, and a toque, shaking because
you were cold.
I put the sweater on and feel you close to me, and go for my morning walk
along a no exit gravel road in the early morning, wanting to be alone with you
and my random thoughts, knowing, more than likely, there won’t be a
single car pass me.
On the Road again by, Willie Nelson, runs through my mind; the song you requested
be played at your celebration of life; the song that defined you…a free spirit
who finally found what you had been looking for, when ill health
forced you to stop roaming, and for 23 years after your heart attack,
you became the father I had so longed for.
I see you now, sitting on the kitchen floor playing with your grandchildren,
completely content, your contagious laughter making me laugh,
your sparkling eyes, looking into mine, speaking volumes without saying a word.
I think of the days proceeding your passing, and you in your feeble voice,
singing to mom, those lyrics from ‘Last Fairwell’, by Roger Whittaker," ‘for you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly, more dearly than the spoken words can tell".
And as the sun rises over the hill, I swallow the lump in my throat,
and continue on down the road.
In loving memory of my dear father,
Harold George, October 25 1927 - August 11,2003
Oh, Sol y Luna que tratan de abrazarse,
No llegan a tocarse como La Creación por Miguel Angel,
Por tantos obstáculos obstruyéndoles de si mismos,
Por tantas barreras que atrasan el alcance entre ellos,
Por tantas cadenas que los separan el uno del otro...
Oh, Sol que tanto extrañas el toque helado de la Luna,
Que tanto sufresen despertar el resplandor de su interior,
Que tantas manchas y quemaduras te han hecho doler,
Que tanta irradiación expones, a veces cegándote a ti mismo...
Oh, Luna que tanto añoras el calor del Sol,
Que tanto sufres en suavizarle su ardor,
Que tantos cráteres te han hecho sufrir,
Que tanto escondes tu resplandeciente brillantez interna...
Oh, Sol que tanto sufres en fuego eterno,
Pobre de ti, separado de tu amante,
Te dejaron solo en a luz cadente,
Luz que te quema y te hace erupcionar...
Oh, Luna que tan fría estas en oscuridad abundante,
Pobre eres, separada de tu querido,
Solitaria y desamparada con tus amistades, las estrellas,
Dejando caer tu opaca luz de plata,
En tu océano de lágrimas y tierra de injusticias...
Dos amantes desolados,
Dos romances reprimidos,
Ambos corriendo uno tras el otro,
Solo mirándose a distancia,
Sin alcanzarse hasta la llegada del abrazo..
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
You'll never know how
my moments go when I see
these my thoughts of you,
your face in every flower
your touch in every raindrop.
MUY PENSADO USTED
Usted nunca sabrá
mis momentos van cuando veo
estos mis pensamientos de usted,
su cara en cada flor
su toque en cada gota de lluvia.
© Harry J Horsman 2013
The pretty girl on the bus makes me sad. She is beautiful in toque and scarf but I'm
not ready for winter. Her hair is drawn back in woollen grip; the hat is black though
she wears it in bright pink. The red of her scarf lights the dapper down jacket of
winter. I wish to sing to her and whisper my wisdom of error. She grins as I
purposefully walk by again, she knows and I adore that because she is sheepish
and bashful yet courageous in hesitation. The bus is empty but I choose her
immediate right and she sighs in thanks. I ask her name to which she announces
Sarah, I am overjoyed by the simple beauty but my 'membrance of all life’s glory in a
single package anoints my lust for life and love lost. She shies sensing my usage of
her in character and I back peddle seeking soon required response to the foreseen.
thought that I knew all of the footsteps
I would follow in the journey of my life
but the man in the moon smiled
and destiny asked my stars to dance
you turned my way…I felt my life change
the gentleness and honesty of our first kiss
feeling you reach into my inner-most soul
within seconds…needing you…wanting you forever
pensei que conhecia todos os passos
que iria seguir em minha jornada
mas o homen na lua sorria
e o destino chamou nossas estrelas para dancar
voce mudou meu rumo…senti minha vida mudar
a suavidade e honestidade do nosso primerio beijo
que me fez sentir o seu toque no mais profundo de minha alma
precisando de voce…querendo voce…para sempre e por um dia
afternoons spent side by side
waves of emotion caught within shifting sand
passionate moments…tender dreams coming true
the hunger of a shared kiss…no one else can see
you stir my soul…you alone touch me like no one else
we have shared promises and confessions without word
you are the air that I breath
I would walk on broken glass to be by your side once again
IRISH
It's Spring but the snow still comes down.
It falls till it covers the ground.
It melts and then freezes,
I'm up to my kneeses,
In mud, slush and snow by the pound.
I saw the first Robin today,
Wearing toque, scarf and boots in a sleigh.
It was too cold to fly,
So he mushed right on by,
Headed South without further delay.
Racks on reindeer scissor high.
Santa's raised into the sky.
Red clad jacket; red clung toque.
A cute old man you'd call a kook.
With wired frames of bottled glasses
and long bent scarf that waves in passes.
His snub-like nose a faded rose
to match his cheeks and famous pose.
White bulging beard of bouncy motion
yet pepper smeared as though with lotion.
And bold blue eyes that twinkle flakes
and rest below his two brow cakes.
A golden bag with golden ropes
in burlap stitched in seams and slopes.
Holding reins of soft black leather
in pearl white gloves for every weather.
And should you see him for his cause.
Remember...
Christmas comes with Santa Claus.
Racks on reindeer scissor high.
Santa's raised into the sky.
Red clad jacket; red clung toque.
A cute old man you'd call a kook.
With wired frames of bottled glasses
and long bent scarf that waves in passes.
His snub-like nose a faded rose
to match his cheeks and famous pose.
White bulging beard of bouncy motion
yet pepper smeared as though with lotion.
and bold blue eyes that twinkle flakes
and rest below his two brow cakes.
A golden bag with golden ropes
in burlap stitched in seams and slopes.
Holding reins of soft black leather
in pearl white gloves for every weather.
And should you see him for his cause.
Remember...
Christmas comes with Santa Claus.
pot seeds down the drain
what kind of life force sustained?
mutant monsters with long hair
sleezy & greezy and they don’t care
growing their sewer dope
their purpose, their only hope
started with a few rejects
the kind society simply ejects
those that can’t reside
in this place where you cannot confide
mean ol’ gargoyles with a potent touch
give that stuff a strange rush
then a few more slipped in
alien warriors again and again
no way do these dudes care
make humans tear out their hair
so next time you see a bald guy
will you wonder about his high?
this smoke that grows in your drain
the only thing on Frankenstein Nazi’s brain
‘cause trippin’ in the bowels of this town
guaranteed to bring ya down
they grew it and they do it
each day beneath your street
stoned grinches in a lazy mob
full of the stuff that turns you into a blob
fallen angels with the munchies really bad
hungry for the toque that makes us all mad
The pointed ears of a snail can be quite ornate really. Especially if adorned with precious stones as earrings. Buffaloes bulbous brows bear banging bunions. Marvellous. Just marvellous it is to watch the glass moving etiquette of a toque faced turtle necked triangular train man. And train men are neither neutral nor at an elevation of sixty feet for sixty feet are reserved items for the rare caterpillars whose boots are ordered from on line specialists particularly at festival moments of a calendar month. Months are neither mints nor metrosexual mines. If the stem of a flower is acidified then surely the dew from a mountainside would circumnavigate a pea. Coo coo a blossom bird is calling very very loudly like coo on a roof could be a complete song to sing. Coo coo coo then. Fantastic auric and radiating repetition of a coo. But not akin to a sauce. For sauces ate stripey bases of pans and swirled in an interesting light show of iridescent woven brown creases. Wow. Wow. And great. Eat then a canopy of tissues dangling from a stripped out washing line on a hill. Cheeses choosing coffee carefully, crispy crackers crumbling constantly. And the policy of a pelican us to peck prawn. How petrifying to be a small pink one. Oh dear. Playing then peck. Gone. Determined deletion determines deathly drive. And a stronghold of a striped shadow is coming over there and waving so wave at it. Go in wave. Out layer outfits organise official over oversized overspill objectives. And a fat cat laughs in the frying pan. Eating pizza in a bin on a petrol station forecourt is akin to a maggot laughing at a butterbean. And using a car ss a heater for multipurpose functions in a house is about as useful but as common as using a lawnmower to hoover the carpets. Sew that then. Hahaha the dancing of the bricks haha and no ho ho elephant wading birds xxxxx inconceivable z z z z z aaaacchooooo z.
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Eh? woke up
this Thursday morning
with my finances
shaking the walls
some nice hoser lady
had given me a call
and left a message
right on my phone
she talked
also, very nice and slow
it was all so very proper
Don't Cha, know
she called
and,
mixed it up
like i was
in business
with Al Capone
like it was
a for sure thing
she said
they got my
loonie and my toonie (Canada money)
and they ain't
coming, home
so i scratched
my head
right under my
toque/tuque (cap/sleeping bonnet)
and kissed
a drop of Mickey (375 ml alcohol bottle ) (don't drink yet, lol)
right, into my DOUBLE DOUBLE (Tim Hortons coffee )
and Timbit, my donuts holes
and give
that internet
a Give'r,
of, a cat call
and what the
Kerfuffle! (hell!)
"Hey" I don't know anyone
in Deloraine, Manitoba
western Canada
wow! That's so cold!
Joy and sorrow in staccato
Feet strike the floor
Heel and toe
Pounding from the knee
Kicking up the skirt
Hips sway
Spine arches
Arms encircle the body
Wringing and unfurling
Elbows raised
Wrists and fingers twist and rotate
Hands fling high
Eyes cast down
Cante and compas
Toque and palmas
In passion and anguish
Duende
AS YOUR HEART BLOSSOMS COMO SU CORAZÓN FLORECE
(SPANISH VERSE)
Como estoy rodeado de tu belleza;
La mañana brilla a través del cabello;
Rayos de luces brillaban en cada hebra;
Estoy asombrado de verte, mientras estoy de pie;
Mi corazón siempre late, siempre late;
Y a medida que tu corazón se vuelve más cariñoso, florece;
Y tu corazón florece
Bombeando el agua de Dios a través de tu corazón;
Y tu cofre evacúa susurros de respiración;
Mientras espero el honor y la gloria de tu toque:
Y significa mucho ...
Te admiro porque los pájaros anidan en los árboles;
Huelo tu aroma como lo hacen las abejas con las flores;
Mi amor y cariño crecen cada vez más en minutos y horas;
Y tu corazón florece
Mientras te espero
Y tu corazón florece
siempre tan azul creciendo, creciendo es la flor que eres tú ...
Nuevamente inhalas y exhalas al azar;
Las aguas del océano corren bajo tus pies;
Mientras que todas las aves y los árboles que rodean te comparan, la belleza también está en todas partes. Eres como una tierna flor de hojas cocidas;
Estás donde quiero estar;
como tu corazón florece
Y tu corazón florece para mí ...
AS YOUR HEART BLOSSOMS
4/3/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
from anthology "Spring Sonata"
camino el silencia
una caida en el techo
redoble de tambor
estoy libre ahora
como un pajaro
la amo
estoy dando la bien venida
ellas es amable
el baile de tierra seca
su toque de amor
lagrimas de alegra
soy libre como
una mariposa
flotando ahora
abora la boca
a su generosidad
ella me cubre
sus besos humedos
ocultar mis lagrimas
en su regazo
ando en la calle
de la felicidad
orquesta de su viento suave