Wildfires don't recognize borders.
Neither should common sense.
But the nonsense coming out of your leaders' mouths
just proves that they're really dense.
Smoke doesn't come with a passport.
It's not some thing you can just deport.
You see, here's the way it goes.
We can't control the way the wind blows.
Maybe you should clean up your own mess
before blaming others for your distress.
We actually have way more
boreal forest than you.
Yet, statistically, for some reason,
you have more fires than we do.
Your priorities are something
you need to rearrange
because the problem is not Canada;
it's climate change.
I am tired and thirst
far from having any erotic feelings,
too hot for a 'nookie,' the last thing on my mind.
Here in the stifling heat surrounding our camp site,
I keep traipsing back and forward to the eskie
to get an ice cold drink, and wet my face cloth.
Passing my husband, I see his hot sweaty face,
I laugh to myself and say
" No hints of an erotically charged afternoon today."
He is also hot, tired and thirsty,
heat has a way of sapping one's energy!
Perhaps? if a cool change arrives
we may change our minds, and
fall into a passionate, erotic embrace.
'I don't think so'
The only erotic thing in my vision is
my husband wrapping his lips around his cigarette,
performing slow drawback's and blowing smoke rings
Or curling his fingers around the radio knob
to change the radio station.
I gaze at his rough, unshaven face, and
think to myself 'Pash Rash' if
caught in erotic twists and turns -
'No thanks.'
The fires burn just over the horizon
Turning the air grey with blowing smoke
Making the clouds glow like amber
It is truly a terrifying sight to see
But it also has a beauty that has to be admired
You may pray for the people and animals
Losing their homes, they need all of our help
They are all just trying to survive the worst
Not even trying to thrive in their hell
Please give them your blessing
And help them return to their everyday lives
That would be the best thing we can do
© Poem – VIII/X/MMXXV
LRET
I can only wave it once so I have to envision the results
entice my flowers, highlight my house or eliminate faults?
My imagination has ideas that go up into the air
blowing smoke in my mind, without any worry or care.
the ideas are swirling around my dendrite-filled brain.
I always wanted a pterodactyl, and a pink whooping crane.
My own fire engine was another one of my little dreams.
Waving a wand once is not easy it seems.
World peace? How would I know? How long would it last?
Could I go back into my mistakes, travel back into my past?
Could I visit heaven and speak with my mother again?
The ideas are endless, quiver is the state of my chin.
I will have to have more time, I know that now of course.
Black Beauty was gorgeous, do I need a unicorn horse?
the faeries are gathering, to watch me make my mind think.
I finally wave my wand and give myself a new granite sink.
Stop pulling your mischievous high jinks - currently, the wind of change stinks
Winds of change are not always good - they can be grossly misunderstood
Winds of change are just blowing smoke - spouted by a deluded bloke
Don’t believe a word from Blog bullies and blowhards - they won't change their ways
PS encourages creativity – poets CAN post ten per day
I got fed up of snide little digs about people who write poop poems
I am not stuck for turds - I'm saving my witty words for my next book
let’s not get carried away
with my cache of failings
and unbless’ed idioscyncrasies
the brain mysterious,
untouchable
mazed, unreadable
the heart lethal,
more ingenious
blowing smoke, big guns
bang, bang
love
bang bang, love
I’ll cover your skin
like soft, warm
cashmere
kissing the inbetweens
moments of sweet seduction
hypnotised, I’ll take
your swelling soul in
bang, bang
love
I’m a gangsta,
Sweet Sin,
Love
is a libertine
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Sweet Sin. Love. Libertine.
Gather around all you people
Got a wonderful tale to tell
Bout people who are always happy
As if they're under a spell
As spells go this one seems magic
Seems like a kind of trance
Holding hands and singing out loud
Performing a magical dance
Some people might think it's evil
But I'm here to tell the truth
They're really dances of undying love
Coz this world sure needs a boost
Let's all think only about loving
The peoples of every land
No matter the language or way of life
Let's all of us just join hands
Don't listen to all the naysayers
Time for a change in thinking
It's not who's got the biggest toys
Reach out with loving arms linking
Some will say I'm just blowing smoke
It's too late to make such a change
My answer is if we all did nothing
Things would still wind up the same
So how many of you are with me
Raise your hands and cheer
For a world where all nations coexist
And peace replaces our fears
snow-coated cottage
blowing smoke on her chimney~
birch treetops glisten
10 December 2022
Winter Nature Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Syllables checked at www.howmanysyllables.com
5-7-5
You Choose Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Dancing with crystals
blowing smoke through my nostrils,
believing in the delusion
escaping from it's firm grasp;
the memories never ending
it's in my dreams,
interrupting my purpose
lieing to my face,
I could be deceased
a faulse memory
imbedded in the cerebral;
knocking against your scull
begging to be seen
but forgotten once again,
beautifully undone
yet gracefully at peace,
never will I taste your resin again
the glass slipping from between my lips;
shattering like my heart
dripping with eternal dread,
I needed you
but I hate you,
I thought your were my friend;
but you're my enemy
to your grave;
you I send.
Is indicated at the top of your site
Just saying Fav,carries no might.
You can see if your friend is just blowing smoke.
Making you feel great.
But that Fav carries no weight!
1/12/2022
Haven't felt this good in years
I think I'll have just one more beer
Then again, I'd better not
Beer's so passe; please pass the pot
I shall never see the world as it used to be
In my dream it was 1960 I could fondly see
I could see mom blowing smoke at our faces
Dad spouting bad remarks about certain races
I was there at the table waiting for the bomb
As remembered just an unfulfilled alarm
It was summer when the fun never ends
I was having fun with hula hooping friends
Listening to Chubby and acting double bubbly
My sister and friend were getting kind of cuddly
Young for New York, where the people are so gay
I was dancing in my room, twisting the night away
I saw women in town as dolled up as they could get
And my mom going hep to hip with never a sweat
I saw a married man who I knew would often stray
I heard he tortured his wife when it was other way
I saw proud women, housewives doing their job
Men I remember getting killed belonged to the mob
I could see it was a year, long gone, when men ruled
If you don’t think they still do, you have been fooled
The trees have shed their multi coloured coats
There’s People walking round like dragons blowing smoke
The big coats pockets checked
And last year’s cough sweets found and scoffed
The black Friday sale been and gone
Presents bought, and useless gadgets you didn’t really want
Xmas trees leave the loft
Then Half an hour undoing Christmas light knots
Freezer doors that will not shut
And more booze than your local pub
Wrapping parcels and writing cards
And then POOF whats that’s beneath the tree
A book shaped package in my name I see
I cross my fingers , make a wish out loud
Oh please make it john lindley love and cross bones
that's neatly wrapped up
Here we
Here we
Here we ing go
Snarled from within the orange
comfort glow
as i passed
by local pub
Churlish laughter
from a lass
searching for the knight
to give her forever after
ends up with a bastard
Cough and sneezed diseased
Staring at their feet
drawing on paper sleeves
deformed amber gargoyles features
choking on the winters cause
Music tremors ripple
blackened puddles
Not a t-rex in sight
snuggle my own collar
Blowing smoke and mist
Focus on the point
where both mix
Fermented caveman scrawls
echo
and trundle
through
through
a chill that kills the air
Aired secrets crumble
beneath a love undone
the ghost child
waiting outside for a father
that will never come
Take a step
perhaps to be the last
Losing grasp
feeling through the darkness
for homes path.
POEM "RED ALERT" by martin gedge
Sector seven red alert
the devils on the loose
been hell and back and on the track
with spit and jungle juice
this burning rage and if engaged
will cut you down to size
and make your bed among the dead
right before your eyes
all systems go and blow by blow
the demon can't be stopped
no where to hide as worlds collide
you hear the needle drop
your going down to bottom ground
there's nowhere left to run
upon the break the burning stake
consider yourself done
but if by chance you live to dance
and breathe the chilly air
from deep within he's in your skin
and always will be there
so take in stride yet multiplied
a fuse and lighted wire
prepare to choke the blowing smoke
engulf into the fire.....
by martin gedge©
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