Clank Poems

A handfull of it

A handfull of it
Wont buy a pint
Wether its milk
Or beer, even a coffee
Black or flat white.

A handfull of it
May jingle and clank
Wont buy a chunk of wood,
Not even bus fare
Certainly not a full plank.

A handfull of change
Cant help you arrange
A taxi ride to take you home
Change can be many things
wont buy, a meaty stew bone.

So keep the change held tight
Dont make a change in the night
You wont need to change at all
Maybe youl need to just sit and see
That changes not needed effect you and me

Honorable Death

Deus Volt I scream by my brother's side,
a distinct bell rings measuring 39mm wide,
high stepping over the deconstructed rubble,
klashnikov volley is what's giving us trouble,
our advancement through the city begins to slow,
primary and secondary left with one mag to go, (clink)
armor so tight it impedes the breathing, (clank)
honor steps in like a sword unsheathing, (clink)
clinking of a grenades stops under my chest,
my brothers have been saved you know the rest.

Happiness

The one place that I am guaranteed to find happiness is at work…just about 4:00 on a Friday. Because we all know that even the worst weekend will still trump the best workday. No matter how sick or hurt I was at the beginning of the shift, by the time the hour hand finally managed to crawl around to the end of the day, all my aches and pains would somehow vanish. There’s no sound in the world that brings more smiles to our faces than the clank of a time clock on Friday afternoon.

Staring at the clock
each tick an eternity;
Workplace agony

Keep Shooting, Caitlin

   Shot after shot after shot
     Caitlin’s red-hot

   Swish, swish, swish; the net barely moves
     Caitlin feels it; she’s in the groove

   Game after game, win after win
     The adulation never wears thin

   Comes the game for the number one rank
     Caitlin’s shots go clank, clank, clank

   Her touch, gone; her face, drawn
     Millions of shots for tears spawned

If Only Time Didnot Hurt

I’ve been told
“things work out for the best”
in that way each of us
Divinely blessed 

God in control they say – 
if only Time didn’t hurt…

I believe in life hereafter
I believe no wrong God
can’t have undone; someday
somehow our dear Lord to make 
all losses won --

God in control they say --
if only Time didn’t hurt…

God in control they say
though ticking I find unbearable
swinging pendulum a clank and 
clunk~ when a heart sunk
too deep one’s despair...yet I
am told, God is always
fair – always there – somewhere 
taking loving care

God in control they say -- 
if only Time didn’t hurt...

No theologian am I
just a common soul, treading, adrift; 
questioning if sane to trust in fate -- 
dialogues with God sounding always
one sided debate -- 

I believe in love
while more questioning 
my faith

God in control they say
your silence pushing me 
further astray -- 
if only Time didn’t hurt...

If only Time didn’t hurt…

If only Time didn’t hurt….

Devils Gauntlet

Darkness was descending in a crawled  dread,
entering evening’s  creepy  gloom by that fence
vile and sharp as evil silhouettes  of greed’s luv..
In the narrow guarded gates, a  Halloween alibi
living  open, is a walking workforce all powerful
sporting eyes, bloodied, from searing naked souls…

Gamblers risk the chains always snapping
Ankles bound clank with links as Metallica
undoes panic screams, of nonexistent you,
now a mere silent statistic mute and shorn,
tied down in a sterile stainless-steely night
left to the mercies of a tamed cold, so feral…

Edenites guard walled riches from the ogre
that hails from a south, full of satanic heat!

(11/27/2022 - For Emile Pinet’s Halloween contest)

Sounds of Summer

Sounds of summer invite my good cheer
Chirp, chirp, chirping of the gentle sparrow,
Even the roar of the machines mowing near
The clank of tractors making furrows narrow.
Gentle breezes swishing through sycamore trees
Chatter of red squirrels playing in the breeze.

I hear the mockingbird’s trill in the hedge row
As I stroll through the meadow’s golden hue,
The click of the crickets, a dog’s bark although
My little Jose is gone, making me feel blue.
A cloud overhead drips droplets of warm rain
And I, once again, am in my favorite domain.

A crunch of old leaves beneath my shod feet
On the path to the brook, the babble is inviting,
Sounds of summer make this perfect day complete
Even sizzling sunshine overhead, never slighting!
I am especially happy when my senses are delighted
Frankly, a stroll through the meadow makes me excited.

Written July 1, 2022
for “Onomatopoeia” Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet

On the Board

click@clack %clank# click@ blaoop......

Are You Still There

I hear the dishes clink and clank,
And footsteps on the  floor.
Are you still there? I ask myself,
I don't know anymore.

I reach the stairs and sit a while,
Outside my bedroom door.
"Are you still there?" I ask out loud,
I wish that I knew more.

I'm almost down the staircase now,
I'm sitting on step four.
I see you through the railing gaps,
Inside the kitchen door.

You are still there! I see you now,
Of this I can be sure.
I'll stay a while and watch you as you
Finish up your chore.

"It's time for bed, you sleepy head.
Feel safe and feel secure.
I'll always be right here for you,
Right now and evermore."

Going To a New Place Where Flowers Bloom

going to a new place where flowers bloom
you have a taste for flounder and shrimp scampi
i have a taste for scallops and coconut shrimp
i say rice and cheddar biscuits
you say lobster potatoes and baked beans
we are now at home with everything
i look all over for the cookbook
of course you find it in under five seconds
we laugh at that for a spell
we wash our hands throughly and begin cooking our special little feast
chop chop chop
whisk whisk whisk
shake shake shake
clank clank clank
michael franks is setting the cool, calm mood
open goes the oven
we smile at our impromptu mess of achievement
you then come closer to me and bury your head in my chest and take in the hemp and lavendar soap
i myself take in your fresh scent of calm waters
though we are far from each other's type, we worked to find Love in the center of an unexpected Common Ground
while waiting for the food to finish cooking, we relax, rejoice, and enjoy the comforting company of each other

A Slice of Peace

A beautiful creek running through the fall array
Reflecting the woes of mother nature
In a slice of bliss surrounded by concrete.
Casting worries aside, problems fade away.
The distant clank of society blare like trumpets,
but yet the silence here is so serene.

This is the scene they should see.
Birds chirping mixed with the horns of cars,
The harmony creates a melody.
This is the music they should hear.
This moment of peace is the soul's plea.
Leaning on the bridge the city is on pause.
A brief moment; to question one's destiny.
A brief moment to let go of fear.

In a snap, it's back the world moves.
But that peace never fades.
It just turns into another day.
I think I'll paint this scene,
so everyone's mood improves.

Onomatopoeic Words

bloop
dribble
drip
drizzle
splash
spray
sprinkle
squirt
ahem
belch
blurt
chatter
giggle
growl
groan
grunt
gulp
gurgle
eek
moan
mumble
murmur
squeal
whimper
bam
bang
clang
clank
clap
clatter
click
clink
crash
crunch

:: 10.19.2021 ::

The Jig Is Up

You don’t want to hear his laughter.
When this Father has to come down there
like in don’t make me come downstairs…

When the Lord laughs;
when he scoffs,
all bets are off.

You’ll be dizzy
when you see the hosts of heaven,
the giant scepter…
the crown.

He is enthroned in heaven.
There is no better place.
This kingdom can never be replaced.
You can’t kick @ ss.

You will certainly be thinking
in the waiting cell
of all the h #ll
you’ve put people through.

I can see you calculating excuses—
why they deserved it.

And it was fun…remember.
You’ll be sheepishly smiling
but with each clank
of an opening cell
you’ll be sweating,
anxiety replenishing,
sick with a tummy ache.

This can’t be real…
close your eyes.
It's only a nightmare.

But your senses
are all too clear,
top form
in fact.

For the really big mistakes
dad made you wait…

and this is a really big whopper…

So you grow angry
curse and swear
using every profanity.

You see it n*e*v*e*r
occurs to you
to get down on your knees.

Gravity calls;
the jig is up.
Key turns in the lock

9/8/2021
Psalm 2

Poetry Machine

Whirr! Clank! Buzz! Clunk!
The gears of my brain seize up,
No longer meshing.
No inspirations, no images appear.
No lofty thoughts, ideas
Tumbling over each other waiting
To be brought to life.
No stream of poetic impulses flourishes,
No silver verbs or round nouns
Slipping into space and place.
Just rusty fits and starts
That produce only empty noise.

Where in my mind is the slipped cog,
That word, the missing tooth,
The slippery oil of sibilant syllables
To lubricate the machinery?
Perhaps here, by diligence
I can search and find the missing part.
I’ll sit and write and write and write
Whatever comes to mind.
Words, words, words, words
That might break free the rusty wheels
And release syllabic oil to restore
That free-wheeling flow
Of passion, wonderment, and awe.

That play of script
That once poured forth so strong
From easy mesh of imagination
With its sister, reality.
So gears, set to your work.
Turn together in perfect sync
To change my dusty prose to poetry.

Bay of Bones

Ocean surge, reflecting moon
Mermaids, sirens swim and swoon
Haunting song, night and day
Tethered boat just sailed away
Seadog specter with loud cuss
Shot himself with blunderbuss.

Erstwhile pirate ship revealed
Crew long dead their fate was sealed
Zombies scale tattered rigging
Captain Kyd counts his shilling
Sound of cutlass, who walked plank?
Bag of bones with chains that clank.

Lighthouse spread its haunted light
Spirits jump in mad delight
Ghostly antics in the deep
From Davey’s Locker spirits seep
Ocean boils with mystery
You and I will never see


Pixabay Image
by
Hullabaloo22

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