Still hope we can cope
With the nope
Don’t give a damn plan
From that Tandoori tan
Obscene Tangerine dope
Jackanory Mandarin Man
That trope..like to be Pope
Go out on a limb..got the vim..scope
To make him of the grim...dim..whim..mope
Just give Mr Grope enough Rope
Opined women..a frump
If they mind.. some bump & grind
Half inching while pinching their rump
The darkness descends
Besotted with anything cosseted
Rotted or garrotted by design
But sign on the dotted line
Raise a 'Stein" of wine
Knaves..slaves.. saved
From the craze & blaze
Of this moral maze & haze
Extinguished by depraved waves
From distinguished graves
Denies his demise is nigh
Popularity sky high he lies
Bliss as the remiss abyss
Of hiss and diss ends
Thanks to a sly bit of
Wry Fab Four rapport
No not you say hello...but yes I say goodbye
Off with his head the French might have said
Cos we've read we'll get by instead
With a little help from his (dead) friends
I recall the rural life of the butterfly
Extravagantly —that proud floating mass of wings.
Her wings flutter from sea to coast so eloquently,
Yet silent with the muteness of frightened breeze.
They are banners with buntings of newness — striped,
Spotted, arched, dotted.
Her flamboyant life history, reading it backwards,
Is an exhibition of time and cosseted patience....
The winged one, aged and tried, schleps to the stirs of a narcoleptic pupa,
Hanging on the banisters of a dear larva who's egged on to
Run the full circle and announce the mating time and a most
Fragile conception.
The swoosh-swoosh dress, hips dalliance, smooth hardwood.
He’d like to take her out for a spin, but she’s not letting anyone in.
She can nearly feel the polish under cosseted soles; an angel.
His eyes don’t leave her side; he can dream of milky wings.
The tempo picks her up, lets her go, never drops her; he might.
His intent, palms around her waist, a pick-me-up, a whirlwind.
Without a care, even he won’t dare slide his shoes nextdoor.
She’s breathless, hair like a waterfall, graceful, frenetic.
He wants to put her in a pumpkin shell, make her his wife.
She goes it alone, on tiptoe, hands become rain clouds.
The tempest tightens his heart and abdomen; she’s his.
The knot he feels is quickly untied by her “bye, bye.”
He looks for her in the lot, in the moonlight-fantastic; glass.
Her reflection is best on the ballroom floor; he’s floored.
He can’t touch her fragility, not allowed a whiff of her perfume.
She flies high and higher; he shields his eyes; clouds brighten.
He hears her swoosh-swoosh; at long last, rose-scented petrichor.
He can’t accept her departure; she is the warmth of Summer.
He feels a tap on his shoulder; hopeful; alas, lights turned off.
hypnopompic hues
multifaceted jewels
confetti luminaries
a gift from mother?
i’m cosseted in
its incalescence
its wind chime colors
my mind’s fixed upon
rubies, sapphires, emeralds
even if i fall
into somnambulant sleep
i cannot chase dreams
chimerical blooms
cut gems of rain-and-moon-bows
that unfurl as i awake
1/17/2022
lest we forget angels
lifting up
the fallen child,
the one within
the rocking carriage.
thumb-sucker delicacies,
in fetal position,
cosseted by wings
of a fan, blowing
away the neonatal blanket.
lest we forget angels
just out of reach,
palms up,
waiting for baby steps.
down on your knees,
back on the stairs, descending
a lofty set, just a few.
you turn
and stare.
how’d you jump
from the ledge,
when shorter to the ground?
now if you leap,
you’ll need replacement parts.
just staring at the carpeted steps
might do the same.
lean on the angels
like a cane. they pluck out
your pacifier, perhaps
a set of teeth, stained
with coffee and berries.
your very best haloes,
fiery rings,
you must pass through -
wisdom flames
of black and blue.
lest we forget angels
from birth to steps of death.
they have to work
with frailty, scratching
their perfect heads,
but always…ALWays
trusting God,
thanking him.
lest we forget angels
whose eyes sees God.
our guardians of home -
one we leave behind,
one where we belong.
7/25/2021
the topped her desire with a cherry on the cake
icing sugar crux of the biscuit cusp of pure delight
candles had outgrown the sweet surface of pastry
but she cherished her life just the same evermore
tasted age and radiant light with no shadow of doubt
the older she got she esteemed pleasure and freedom
revered memories and sheltered her many vagaries
as mere kaleidoscopic reflections and mosaic change
tapestry and canvas had altered but not the tenderness
with which she dreamt fantasized and painted the path
she felt at ease with the easel mixed pastels on pallet
tasted whatever tickled her fancy narrated her story
smacked her lips and decoupaged poetry in images
adorned colours patterns and texture with meaning
beyond words and calligraphy stencilled on life
one might wonder what gave her unwavering strength
to find inner voice and dialogue to express emotions
to blend them with reason and the magic of her mind
why was she so blessed and cosseted despite her fears
a glance into her lover’s eyes responded unquestioned
31st March 2021
Writing Prompt - Cherish - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
SERENITY
Wash me with glory’s waterfall and evergreen.
Jehovah-Rapha recharge the endorphins.*
The pine needles tickle my nose with scent.
The swoosh of skirted cascade in forest serene.
The polished rocks under bare feet, the flow
of cool stream that caresses my toes.
Defeat cleansed from my soul. I splash
salubrious waters into crevices of my woes.
Surrounded by the verdant forest of peace -
no sticks and stones to break my bones.
I am cosseted in this fairytale spell
with glorious birdsong and romantic caprice.
Symmetry of footfall through winsome waters.
Rushing precipice of suds release sore impurities.
Stationary giggles, gurgling cheeks piqued.
Serenity is servant of the King’s daughter.
9/18/2019
Picturesque Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Eve Roper
*Jehovah-Rapha - The Lord who heals
The only reason for time
is so that everything
doesn’t happen at once
Albert Einstein
TIME IS ELEMENTARY
swatches of bands, smart
time is elementary;
strapped snug, cosseted
on a small-pale wrist.
coffee fumes and coal
chugging on life’s track.
cuckoo bird on half
and every hour —
oh, why’d it have to stop?!
(salvation in Grandma’s coffee cake)
polaroid portions collecting dust;
ink-streaked down
memory’s bust.
ironic how i can’t remember
the ding-dong digital or sundial
in our own home —
clocks have a mind of their own
busy with keeping its children,
well swept, wound
and educated.
6/29/2019
Entertained by flickers on a screen, cosseted between giants. Suited with slicked-back raven hair, snow-white starched shirt, an innocent tie.
Mother smiles at his sky-blue eyes. Father pats his shoulder, “Good show!”
The nightingale, high in spirits. The tanager beyond the street light.
Chill of the night air, the bravado of a moon flower…
A sudden violent shaking, tremors as he morphs into an orphan, and forever remembers the words shooting at him, whispered in the dark.
borne in shadows
huge fortune, fortuneless child —
criminals will pay
cave of bats sets his destiny
clings to fair tights and blond hair
Like all grown up boys, Bruce Wayne and his secret identity are drawn to the sweetness and tartness of plums. The one meows, enticing him with skin tight glances. But his mother’s eyes are in the courageous and innocent shade of sunshiny hair — he must rescue her; marry her? He has to release her to the day, for he must continually ferret out those who live under the lamplight.
6/22/2019
delicate lace linked by crochet
labyrinthine stitches a doily a day
counted by repetitious candlelight
motherly hands of preponderant foresight
twisting and surrender of silent threads
tucking each one into intricate spreads
lovingly lace reflects persistence of face
a warm cosseted Victorian embrace
from hands that stumbled with wrinkles
forlorn and gnarled knots, catastrophic crinkles
yet the warm, soft hand that comforts her ill
a kin that kindles the fire and spins with skill
she’s mastered the lessons rendered at the knee
of longsuffering love and mother’s humble marquee
There once was a lady of Celtic descent
Who cosseted canines wherever she went.
The birds in her garden would sing forth her praise,
And stray cats salute her, their tails duly raised.
Grey squirrels would gleefully zig-zag all day
For here they had no need to cache nuts away.
And deer ate her plants but she'd care not a tittle;
No wonder friends nicknamed her 'Dotty Doolittle'!
6/29/2018
LANGUAGE OR THE KISS
But my bee, with stinger intact,
slapped me with his forked tongue abuse.
My flesh still warm, aching and sacked.
I strike matches over red lips.
Stupidly I beg sweet-sour sips.
I wear dueling masks, with two views.
Language or the kiss, must I choose...
Each hot, burnished with pulsing lips.
My baby’s breath, I dread to lose.
Sticky honey-buzz without sound.
I’m cosseted in poems drowned -
flaming elixir of his craved sips.
5/5/2018
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time 3
Rhyme dictionary assures me that
abuse and views rhyme.
MARCH LETS GO
On my knees, cosseted by blue jeans,
I tender the soil with magic beans.
March lets go of the Winter’s lien.
Clearing snow, dusting of royal green.
O the earth is suddenly Spring clean.
though stressed with Adam’s gene.
My multicolor flowers whisper as I lean
and I listen to their Shakespearean scene.
The lovely oaks hold each birdie while mother preens,
though storms might seize the branches, as they ween.
The story told, mankind sees as rather mean,
but God’s providence spurs on the flight of king and queen.
The ancient secrets of horticulture to glean.
A lovely morning walk with dewdrop sheen.
Spring choir of serendipitous joy so keen!
Rejoice, all life has sprung, after a long Winter’s lien.
3/8/2018
Contest: Michael Vacek’s Spring Fling Zing Thing King and Queen
Photostory Number One
cosseted, between
his sister and brother,
the infant’s eyes idolize
their playfulness ~
his sibling’s hands
in flight, peacefully glide,
swooshing
in mid air ~
warmly entertaining.
the arching wings
over him, remind
his mind
of cherubim.
a jewel, treasured
in his family nest.
blessed trove
of happiness.
duly, the twins
have attached
him to their hips
as well. they adore
his coos
and joyful twitching
of his little frame.
the heavenly trio
in the shape
of a mother’s arms ~
entrusted to Eden.
11/14/2017
Photostory #1
THE BRIDE TO HER FUTURE GROOM
My heart quick-beats with Venus-strength,
the moon’s deep glow that shines with you.
Your love has lassoed the moon’s flow.
Its brightness, brings good tidings, to my soul.
I live to lift the corners of your lips
to meet my touch of happiness.
A rogue wave - handsome and daring,
i’ve tamed the tempest with a laugh.
I’ve calmed the mighty rage with love.
My small hand’s cosseted in yours,
together we ride seas of life,
in marriage bliss. We are thus blessed.
I pledge to you my tender touch
a boat upon the sea of life,
to see us through the dark, the day,
in sorrow and in blessings, dear.
You have nothing to fear with me.
Rest, love, upon devotion’s sails.
9/11/2017
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