Watering Cans
The latest water restrictions will add an
extra sadness to
the before the
present time sad watering cans here and
there.
In three hundred, I pulled without fear,
From my dentition, a grin quite sincere
Clichés serve as my balm,
In the chaos, my psalms
Yet to some; I might seem quite unclear,
With words throbbing back in my head,
I ponder the things that I've said
Did commentation run dry,
As I reached for the sky?
Or am I just tangled in dread?
The gallery, it holds all my grace,
While some think I'm lost in the space
But in laughter and rhyme,
I still bide my time,
In this curious, chaotic embrace!
Somehow, I don't think they sold many.
I actually bought a tin
But didn't read the label
When I got home I put my glasses on
And threw it in the
bin
What a S... Idea
Whatever were they thinking of?
I can just Imagine
Someone having a eureka moment!
I fear
Yes! We'll sell millions
Could you think of a worse name?
I wonder what other products they have in their range
The ideal dinner party food
For someone you don't really like, a cheating husband, there is no shame
Even the family dog would turn their nose up
And wish they'd never smelled such a dish
Great for growing tomatoes
Or cucumbers I suppose.
How I see cans getting dented -angry customers over price increases
Alone and hungry
left leg aches like a broken peg
in the mugginess of its left slipper.
Not a good day for fixing anything
but the sealed and over salted,
the quickly warmed and spooned
that can be mixed into a taste-less medley
with other sundry comestibles.
The pantry,
(a recessed place with shelf-space),
is a dimly lit store for long kept canned products,
a once carelessly gathered and undated harvest,,
a compulsive cartload
that should never have been bought
opened, and cooked
in any company but strictly my own.
In that larder molders a canned fodder;
here anemic asparagus stalks wrapped in tin
are jammed together with diced jalapenos,
or glossily illustrated kidney beans.
Tomato and noodle soups are haphazardly piled
atop of various loosely defined
stewed meat offerings, including canned Spam
naturally.
After the so-called cooking
(more a revealing of a much mushed-up
mixture of misnamed contents),
I sit down with the steaming plate
allowing the metallic aroma to entice
peckish yet suspicious taste buds.
Fed now with the quickly chewed-over
I’m both glad and grateful
that this ten minute feast
can be wolfed down in so much less time.
(A guy told me today with total confidence that for women, men are a dime a dozen. That has never been my experience which inspired me to pen this piece.)
I could have collected empty soda cans
from the side of the road and cashed them in
They were worth five cents apiece back then
I only needed two for that dime to buy
a dozen men’s time and attention
sparing myself those Saturday nights
wasting away in my room reading
as I listened to old records or the radio
or sitting at a table alone as other girls
danced held in the arms of a guy
I didn’t know they had purchased
for less than a single penny
I could have had a whole harem
if in the winter I had shoveled snow
I had nothing else to do and nowhere to go
Halloween night, there are only candy 'cans' -- no can'ts
~ Back at home, kids treat their parents to a 'Sugar Dance'
They mixed black paint in the
Cobb and concrete mixture.
The other batch contained a
mixture of white paint and
Shallac.
When the mixed the mixture
I wasn't thrilled, not knowing
this was done to make me
excited.
After the mix had cured, they
used handsaws to cut blocks
of stone to create the wall.
I marveled at the creation.
I gasped with amazment looking
At the beautiful marbled coloring.
It look just like marble, beautiful
And they quickly stacked stone
And mortar to create this beautiful
Room.
The epoxy on the floor was to
Bring accent to this room, this
Along with the recycled barnwood
Made this an adorable place to
Admire the beauty of artisans and
Laborors.
From the book" Might your Critizium
Make me wealthy" by
Cantarious Kettles
Jorvin Press, Kantouria Flutier-Bassonist
Executive producer.
Senior year, student government
I couldn’t do anything right
When told to paint the trash cans
Our class colors, blue and white
I added my own touch to the job
Always doing too much
Scrawled my name on all the bins
Hoping to gain more fame
Some thought I was uncool, to
Expose myself to the whole school
All I was supposed to do
Was to paint the trash cans blue
The next year they were painted red
I was forgotten like I were dead
May I tell you something interesting for a moment? My favorite hobby is knocking over garbage cans with a shopping cart. Don't think it's weird, people do it all the time, so it's natural. There are so many life lessons I learn when I use a shopping cart like keeping my anger under control, pigeons can't use laptops, and coffee tastes better with ketchup in it. My favorite part is when the trash that falls out of the garbage can after knocking it over. I always guess how many pieces of trash would fall out before tipping it over. I am almost always right. So therefore, I earn the privilege of not having to clean up and leaving the garbage can knocked over. The greatest advice I taught myself in doing this is never giving up. I shall hold onto a shopping cart like hope and knock down any garbage cans that stand in my way like obstacles. By doing this, I will get stronger every day and complete my ambitions.
DENTED CANS
Took a bag of trash
To the curb inside the bag
Garbage, dented cans
1/11/18
Original contest Dented Cans
For Contest: 'A STUNNER JANUARY 2018' Contest Info
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
DENTED CANS
At first pristine in form and colour bright
They glittered in the clear warm air of youth
With dreams and goals attainable in our sight
Then framed in words unstrained by filtered truth
To have, to do, to be, without a question
With faith that what’s imagined may gain life
Those holy grails of dreams beyond suggestion
Before opposing forces entered strife
Then caution tempered will and brought delay
And we withdrew the life we had bestowed
On plans we’d made, they took on aspect grey
Were lost from view as cans kicked down the road
Could we unseal those dented vessels’ seams
And then revive their long forgotten dreams
9 January 2018
I remember those
Dented tin cans
The string communication
Of my childhood.
We lived in first story houses,
Telling their fourth or fifth
As we stood on the other side
Of a world without the grey.
Eyes screwed shut,
We shouted excitement into
Our fathermade walkie talkies
Chicken noodle
Clam Chowder
We were always running wild
Chasing what we already had
Our adventure and
That’s gone
You said
Life ends at seventeen.
But here we are,
Here you are,
My childhood love.
Standing so close,
One string length away to
Touch your hand.
That must have seemed longer,
Once.
What would it take of me,
From me.
To press the still sharp edge,
Tasting of clam chowder,
The ocean that you hear in
The echos,
Into my cracked upper lip
And reach out through
These shells of us
Let these ruined wires say
What I cannot.
“Hello?”
Means
I miss you.
As lamplight flicks on the side table
Grandma tends a pan of lukewarm water,
And moves into the room toward the bed
Wishing my fever would cool down sooner .
Her hand clutches old tin cans, quite dented
And pours out ginger oil, raspberry in a bowl
With vaporous mix of weed as fire reddens...
The brew, the potion simmers on a tray
While she chants chants this ailment out the door.
How the frames open wide to drink the evening
Of mystic Moon.... Grandma's power dressed in light:
Fingers that once were silky and young
Brush my forehead, as though to soothe the quiver.
Until sips of this ancient elixir clear the air
While she murmurs thanks...embers ablaze.
Gradually, I find deep relief from such alchemy;
Wise woman's gift, healing cans from her secret bin.
Contest of john lawless : Dented Cans
1/9/2018
Tough on the outside,
weak on the inside.
Your memories are you miseries.
A rough past has dented you,
You refuse to let anyone in.
Your memories dig deeper,
you dent more and more.
It's hard to trust anyone.
In reality, they are you in a different time.
They wipe off your bruises and spill you open.
They take you into a new world away from you miseries.
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