Best Uncapped Poems

(after Edgar Allan Poe's "The Angel of the Odd")

It was a tidy day and I sat, replete, under vellux blankets.
Sadly, my tea was weak, the bottle of cinnamon whiskey
tantalizingly low, and my feet swelling above my anklets.
So I was snippy one might say, zippy, flipping...

Continue reading...

Mr. Washington I want to know
what would you have to say?
as you gaze upon this land
if you were still alive today
what would be your thoughts
on a nation that lost its way
would you stand and fight?
like on that long ago day?

Mr. Washington would you stand by...

Continue reading...

A Commentary on

"A Note on the [Patriarchal-Colonizing] Treatment
of Plant Names"
by Robin Wall Kimmerer, p. 385
BRAIDING SWEETGRASS:
INDIGENOUS WISDOM,
SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE,
AND THE [SACRED] TEACHINGS
OF PLANTS

I too often accept
with nary a LeftBrain dominant thought
that our verbalized labels
for individual EgoPersons
are RoyallyCAPITALIZED.

To write
"Marvin Appletree"
would be to strip my tree
of His/Her sacred...

Continue reading...

Dark day,
early spring
John O'Sullivan's
memorial bench

He sits,
watching river
run by,
jacket open

Bottle uncapped,
paper bag
from hand
to mouth

He drinks,
watching river
run by,
water's high

Glassy eyes,
cigarette smoke
clinging near
John's bench

He cries,
watching river
bottle empty,
heart broken...

Continue reading...

Dear self,

   The words that I have to say are not the nicest ones. I fear what my uncapped talent
might pour out. I only write truth and nothing else. So when my brother asks me to write
to my older brother in prison I...

Continue reading...

It is Monday morning, time to unwind.
today I do laundry and I'm behind.
My son's pile is first and guess what I find:

     Whiff of autumn wafts in the air
     coming from a jacket pocket -
  ...

Continue reading...

A doff of the cap
  a tip of the hat
Nowadays 
  we rarely see that

It’s not that 
  men walk about
unhatted, uncapped

Rather, removing the cap
  reveals quite a gap



   gw       rhyme  ...

Continue reading...

My Divinity

My violet pastel pencil 
came to a rest
after sketching the 
outline of the natural pond
fringed with bamboo, palms, 
and exotic tropical foliage
reflected 
in the mirrored waters.
Standing before
the easel I couldn't
get my eyes off
the arched footed bridge,
on my left, but
I was still wondering,
what was amiss?
I...

Continue reading...

When I am bored with this world
When nothing gives me any more joy
I become, once more, a little girl
And run, hiding to my abode, with my toy!

My pen, magical and whimsical
Sometimes getting even musical
Once it is uncapped, it begins to write in verse
And seeks to...

Continue reading...

Logical me
Well, I find that kind of funny
Because how could you see me
If anything, as 
Smart?
After Passionate me wrote so passionately
The letter I penned with the ink
Of my heart
When meek, Timid me tried unsuccessfully to
Admit to your face these feelings
I've had
And so Unhappy me thought...

Continue reading...

uncapped, a ripple creates waves that take far too long to dissipate
...

Continue reading...

Last night I glimpsed a pretty limerick crudely scrawled upon a tiled wall,
in the lavatory of my favorite bar.

It was very funny,
definitely dirty,
and classy in a back-alley sort of way.

Anyway,
I finished reading it and chuckled lightly while sitting in the stall.
I realized that since I...

Continue reading...

I went to the page with a dry eye?
nary a whimper
certainly no sigh.

What was this odd mysterious state;
this slight chest tickle,
this bouncy gait?

Tigeer the Tiger would know, I’m sure;
what are these eye crinkles
this snorty-like snore?

And, where in the hell
did I hide this guffaw?

I went to...

Continue reading...

Black lipstick whispers are vapor
streams spoken gothic complexion
spiraling ether.  Trails taper
erratic, split imperfection;
ripples on French Riviera.
Descriptions of love disappear
as streaks of winter mascara
outlined bold against helpless fear
plastered in snow.  Vague shadows trace
high above shattered decisions
once thought waterproof.  Dry erase
markers exhaust through revisions
uncapped...

Continue reading...

Crooked Tooth Joy

When I was young and hadn't a care,
I once wished I had curly hair.
But now I see what would've been misery
for the valiant true who would've tried
but failed to love me.
 
At the crack of the clapper
before I don the Sunday best,
I run...

Continue reading...