Those with time to the brink are on the irk.
Sincere toadies do not cast magic shirk.
People who have also been hugely hurt.
People tranced with the act of a flirt.
Firmly, it isn't the genial people who I denied.
They're apt as crucial as the things they hide.
This dreadful wrath has taken over my heart.
If I grasp them, chew the cud; my hair grows a dart.
You appreciate them, yet they overlook you.
It's tuff to fathom folks who love but fade too.
People who beget anguish and sadness.
People who say they care but flee in darkness.
I deplore slugging, furious, proud, and slander people.
People fear honesty; therefore, I sprawl the treacle.
Written: January 08, 2022
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
The Thylacine, the Caspian tiger,
the Caribbean monk seal…
As these beasts disappear,
the most cruelty-vorous species appears.
They are homologous with humans
but their bearings are too brutal.
Though plenty in Asia,
their habitats are found in all the continents.
They hold the holy books
that they never read.
Tender feelings are scoped out by their tamers.
Empty sensorium.
Even the shattered body of an infant
won’t wet their eyes.
They chew the cud of bloody thoughts in isolation,
entranced by a heaven.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press, US).
Come What May.
.
May comes in a blaze of glory
Opening natures treasure chest
The spectacular hawthorn adorns
It’s pretty wedding gown
And the perky trilling Robin
Wears it’s Sunday best
.
The vibrant flowers open their hearts
To the warm rays of the sun
Butterflies flirt and flutter
In an arial delicate ballet
A soft caressing teasing breeze
Tickles the abundant paper lie leaves
Throughout the glorious day
.
The majestic cows chew the cud
The fleecy lamb's bleat run and play
The blackbird joyfully sings at dusk
And heralds in a newborn day
.
Vibrant lush green carpets
And clothed trees
Sweep through valley and hill
As idle days standstill
And lazy trout
Occasionally pout and try
To kiss the sky
,
Soon the boisterous purging wind
Will blow and the may blossom
Wedding gown will be torn down
Falling like confetti and screw across
Littering the ground
Until next year
When May reapers.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
Walking main street in the Spring sunshine
a donkey stops to look at a wolf.
After the look and the gaze
they stroll together.
So far, not a word has been said between them.
Words are tricky, they are largely spaces
framed by a secret idea.
They will have to hide their true natures,
become lost in the running legs of the crowd.
They must mate with the words first,
but what words?
He prefers straw sounds full of drunken sunsets.
She is a predator, she wants fat
edible baby words full of juice.
Eventually his soft brown eyes
will melt her heart
so she delays eating his bull-crap soul.
She has a little soul as well,
it is an ever-spinning doll, it is always hungry,
always crying,
always lonely,
always wanting.
For a while though, she will chew the cud
and stomach his poetry
She’ll clean up the crud of her own words,
so they don’t frighten birds away
They both commence to speak at once.
Passerby’s are startled at the sounds they make,
yet they smile knowing that young love
between very different species of people
will prevail, even when words fail.
CHEW THE CUD
Im afraid to love again
Everything can all be so sudden
Falling in love is no problem
But failing to be love is such a pain
Loving someone is such a privilege
But loving the wrong person
Is worst than a venom
There is no escape unless a sacrilege
Let them be gone
Like the demon
Let them drink thy own poison
And begone
I would rather be on my own
With peace and serenity
Together with the nature alone
I'll find my security
@ Copyright Meline Ngo December 17, 2015
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