be cool
in school
chalkboard
got bored
study
buddy
cute girl
blond curl
hail, hail
pigtail
yes, yes
recess
fun sound
playground
scream squeal
cartwheel
big crush
don't blush
high hopes
jump ropes
let's watch
hopscotch
hop hop
blacktop
ding ding
bell rings
sit down
class clown
hard work
don't shirk
The morning sighs
with hoarse, guttural caws.
Crows twirl and cartwheel backwards,
like charred scraps of newspaper
caught in wild feral, wind eddies
above a raging bush fire.
Goosestepping gulls
enforce their feeding-ground territories
with threats and violent gestures
their beaks snapping shut
like rust-corroded, iron gates.
Looping caterpillars
form a Congo line
across the blistered bark of trees
while ants drag dismembered wings
along cracks in the pavement.
A magpie bludgeons
a snail against the stones
until the shell gives way
its pale body spilling outwards;
a molluscan sacrifice
that satisfies the hunger pangs
of a black-and-white starving bird.
Worms writhe blindly,
torn asunder
on the hot sunbaked soil
attacked by hordes of bull-ants
lake tiny matadors in torero corrida,
sparing with capes and lances
as they torment the helpless,
doomed, and dumb, succumbed prey.
The morning sun rises,
guilty as charged!
without pity or cause,
without mercy or motive,
to silent, stark applause,
as nature pleads for survival.
I take a word and tear it apart
carwash
car jumps off the page and drives off
wash nabs ing and makes it stay
I add machine to washing
washing machine, an old-fashioned term
does anyone use it anymore?
Or is it like mathematics, reduced forever to math?
Bubbles fill up the laundry room
Bubba does a cartwheel as the bubbles dissipate
cart and wheel, I split them up too
Now they remind me of a prairie schooner not a gymnast’s trick
Bubba gloats a bit because he added the A himself after splitting from les
Words are stubborn, opinionated, they have their own ways and means
I stand back, watching in awe, wondering what their next move will be.
A slave of words.
fribbling squibbling marshmallow sticks
flipping, flopping, doing amazing tricks
marching down main street with hillbilly hicks
one does a cartwheel, landing on hot bricks
just did that for kicks! Just did it for kicks!
hilarious malarious, marshmallow sticks!
The Inland Algarve
The landscape is so oddly shaped.
Had once been a domestic landscape,
where the scent of wild herbs and the whisper
The wind through olive branches told stories of past lives,
Walking along a narrow cartwheel
Tracks I often come across the remnant
Of dwellings that once had housed
Poverty-stricken people who had
Ploughed small and reluctant fields
Olive trees had grown wild and tall
Bearing bitter fruit.
Some walls had no purpose, sinking.
Back to earth, becoming rocks again.
A haunted landscape in the inland Algarve,
a region rich with a history of Moorish influence
and traditional farming,
Algarve, and no one saw it doomed
Beauty.
Rabbits and boars peacefully roam, embodying
the natural serenity that still whispers through the land.
And sheep grazed in the gloaming.
Stillness, yet I sensed voices that once
Had loved and lived struggling
Against poverty and early death.
I'll take them one by one
Won't think too far ahead
Day by day until that day
When someday's here, instead
When someday's now today
When waiting is no more
When baby steps turn somersaults
I'll cartwheel to your door
No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
The furrows of Life
The narrow way leading up to the farm from the main
the road had a gate, so cattle could not wander off to
the main road getting. The way had three furrows, two
caused by a narrow cartwheel and one- much wider- from
the horse´s hoofs. Deep furrows meant a hard-working
farm. The landscape was flat and often windy on my
way to school, I tried to walk where the horses had trod
the soil was softer there, the horseshoe patterns told
me if it had been a small or big horse that last had pulled
a cart here if the load had been heavy
A useless knowledge, I often wonder
why do I remember it so clearly
like a black-and-white photo?
Lately, I have been remembering these dirt road
the people and animals
I often wonder if there is a message here
I have overlooked it.
Monorhymes are fun for all
I just chased one down the hall
He did a tumble and a fall
And threw at me a tiny doll
The doll was odd, she had a caul
She did not come from a plain mall
She was tiny, pretty small
Did a backward cartwheel on the wall
Monorhyme next threw a ball
I think he had a lot of gall
He made fun of my wrap and shawl
I groveled past and did a crawl
Does he intimidate you? Asked Paul
I saw a nod from my Uncle Saul
My mouth made a tiny little squall
Monorhymes terrify me after all
My muse Trixie does a cartwheel into the hallway
I am not amused; pretend I have not noticed.
She throws a blue elephant into my toaster at breakfast.
He hits me with his trunk on the way out.
I act like this is normal.
She walks through the livingroom riding on the head of a lion
She is whistling a bawdy song that would have my husband blush.
If he could hear her.
Luckily, he can’t.
A large green spaceship comes crashing down through my roof.
I give Trixie my mean side eye glance.
My dogs follow her as she skips down the hall.
They are barking their heads off.
What is that about? My husband asks.
He looks annoyed.
I give in and pick up my pen.
Trixie 1
Me 0
Have you ever had your heart do a cartwheel
Anticipating something marvelous happening
Knowing today is going to be super special?
Yesterday was such a day
I thought I might learn a new skill
Develop a new hobby, find a lost treasure
I wrote seventeen poems
Painted on ten canvases
Same oh same oh
But this quick feeling of excitement was not wasted
It inspired and enthused me to expect greatness
That feeling is always welcome
A rustic swirling synthetic timeless illusion,
phantom birthed blossom from emanate silence,
The subtle distinction, ghastly gavotte to cremation,
a nuance that belies the true nature of our relationship.
You think you speak to me, me, speaks to me,
but it is I who manipulate the conversation,
I who weaves the web of words to ensnare you.
My intent was not to reveal myself to you.
Fore to obfuscate, to confuse, and to mislead,
create a sense of unease, moment of bewilderment,
a creeping dread that seeps into your pores like a cold, dark mist and you, dear, are mere putty in my hands.
Pawn in the game of cat and mouse that I play so well.
You may think you see me, but it is I who sees you,
who peers into the depths of your soul,
who knows your darkest fears and desires.
And it is I who will use that knowledge to destroy you,
to unravel the threads of your sanity,
and to leave you a shattered, raining limbs,
gibbering husk, hahahaha! Love prompts *cartwheel
it’s the little things like tim tams.
having gotten my attention, the box
hops into my shopping cart, but not
before I cartwheel and squeal, certain
that one of the poets has nurtured
my senses with an Australian accent.
i’m handing them out, like pamphlets,
according to the number in the family.
of course, they’re crunchy and cold.
my husband, straight away, placed
the box in the fridge. U.S.A. all the way.
my neighbor came over for coffee.
before she left, i handed her three treats.
she gasped, herself a published author,
she had just gleamed in a current read
of munchable tim tams…indeed! of course.
to treat my bible study group friends,
i will have to grab another, unopened box,
hand them out for free. the delightful share
the Word and Aussie-awesome treats,
alongside hot water and teabags. cartwheeling…
Have you ever seen a duck come in to land… on land
It’s an eventuality that nature never planned
For ducks that land on water such a graceful splashdown make
But should they land on terra firma… it sure ain’t Swan Lake
Each one does a belly flop, a cartwheel and a stagger
They get up and compose themselves, but ducks weren’t made to swagger
They have no shame so simply waddle with ungainly gait
Toward the back door of my house where they all stand and wait
This morning there were six of them, I watched them all crash down
“They’ll need a pint or two of seed,” I muttered with a frown
Their heads were first to hit the deck, their rumps stuck in the air
I went out with a jug of seed to find them gathered there
As I stepped outside I felt like Moses on the shore
The ducks made space for me to walk and not a hair’s breadth more
Two partridges were standing by and I also fed those
And when the pecking finished, well, I almost checked my toes.
Bird seed by the quarter-gallon gobbled up each time
I wouldn’t mind but it ain’t half a kilo for a dime
But it gives me pleasure and as I stood there this morn
Two more kamikaze ducks crash landed on my lawn.
Extremely Fractured Footles.
Grose art
Faint heart
Write poem
Rhyme time
Compose song
Sing along
Opening night
Stage fright
Break leg Superstition
Big Audition
Ballet dance
On toes prance
Gymnast Cartwheel
No big deal
Tap dancer approaches
Kill those roaches
Featherweight fighter
Must get lighter
Jockey of course
Needs a horse
Happy Thanksgiving
Keep those turkeys living
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