The Shift
The shape that simple.
Not sewn to disguise
the inner person...
Wise in its design,
the unmissable adress
complements the mind,
laid out, informal.
Desire embroider sight
with hidden shape
and curves not known well...
Seamless the shift
from closet mind
to knowing it all-
shifts the childlike heart
from unreal to real.
Rarely left unpicked,
the cotton - on cloth
of an unshapely mind.
Aqua Marine:02/12/2024
It's the marketers in the room
Who must be in a state
We have a wine with a name
Impossible to articulate
There are basic rules to obey
When creating a brand
Simple, one or two syllables
Easy to remember and understand
Google, Lego, Cotton-On
Whatsapp, DHL, Bard
Nerf, Typo, and Shell
They work, cos they're not that hard
And the winemaker’s with us tonight
Brad, with his entourage
Will he agree with this assessment?
Or insist it's sabotage!
Bit-and-for-wag-thing
Brute-and-formatage
I've been practising all week
And the correct pronunciation is still at large
However, let me tell you one thing
That's not easily found today
When you've got a perfect product
Marketing becomes child's play
You can call it what you want,
You can dress it up as a clown
When your wine's as good as Brad's
You get to wear the golden crown
So please, enjoy tonight
Taste and savour every option
Because it's always an unforgettable evening
When you're drinking Buitenverwachting
I blinked and rubbed my eyes, then looked around.
I wondered was I going crazy (like,
my aunt who lived in caverns underground...)
but no, the boy was riding on the bike.
One moment he was there - and now he's gone!
I know I wasn't dreaming; he was real.
It took a while for me to cotton on;
I can't describe the way that makes me feel:
I saw a ghost! I know you won't believe
my story, but I swear to God it's true.
No joke! I have no reason to deceive.
Once sceptic, now I've changed my point of view.
written 25th February for Carolyn's Vanishing contest
Hidden we have become masked among others
No more lips to kiss just the taste cotton on our lips
Right or wrong these masks cover our frowns
Myth or real masks only cover our fear
A wife dying, a husband kept waiting outside
A loan casket lowered into the ground
Churches with empty pews
No one can see or breath because of our fear
Stores closing others unemployed wearing a mask
Wondering how long this will last
Lack of God we fear death from a virus
How did we get ourselves into this mess?
Fear not he has said but we still morn the dead
Life is not among the living but the dead
from the heavens up above a mask-less place
Where all will see masks are only temporary
Stop being a fool and believe
Masks will not save you but God will
From heaven up above
Sure, I saw that brawly battle
between a demon and our brain
not truly in the real ground
yet in my devout mind.
Snarled in roaring
black winged, dreary demon
with blood dripping claws,
through a shower of arrows.
Down fell all five weapons
like cotton on demon’s wings,
but boldly fought our brainy lion
with wisdom, his wild weapon.
Fell on his knee dreary demon
like a tamed tigress purring
and promising evils to abandon
and to guard people all around.
Date: August 4, 2020
China grows cotton on the moon!
American scientists swoon!
In spite of it all
Trump's Vanity Wall
Won't burst any cartel balloon!
Sparkling all across the wisps of morning dew.
Weaver spin on till your masterpiece is through.
Dancing in the sunlight's rays-your web of white.
Tantalizing beauty there is quite a sight.
Stem to stem eight legs move onward into day
capturing each water drop and luring prey.
Soldiering on you leave your intricate design
splashed across the leaves like cotton on the vine.
Many splendored you are feared by some it's true.
Transfixed I am watching to see what you'll do!
for contest"Along Came A Spider"
June 1st,2013
Mountain soften the gawp of sun
far beyond the boondocks,
where the fog plays in stillness,
‘fore the banties arouse the glade
When life came to Bottom Land
bare feet stomped common paths
Between the tall oak trees
echoes stood for seconds,
as tiny voices cartwheeled
from hanging rocks that bite into the dell
The Good River lend a hand, Big Sandy,
to water the Bottom Land,
three acres that fed nine mouths
and satisfy our bellies
When the snow turn up,
and pile high on the new year,
like cotton on a mule cart,
Pap wore rags to keep his toes;
we count ten in early spring
When God send Roosevelt and the WPA,
Pap wore cow hide boots like men ought to
The log cabin was heaven; we lived like gods
In winter, we listen to the hissing of burning
fir and pinewood, and Pap’s alluring hunting tales
Ma’s fried-green tomatoes and cornmeal pancakes
were more than quails falling ‘fore Mt Horeb,
and Pap was more than Moses,
We loved more than Israel,
far from the isle where milk and honey flow
Written: 06-30-2011
Cotton on a breeze
In the field I take my please
Close my eyes to feel
~*Wandering*Butterfly*~
Miranda Lambert
For: Pseudo-Haiku-Chris Aechtner
Winter arrives and God's sculpture is seen everywhere,
Snow as white as cotton, on the rooftops of the houses.
Trees brushed with snow along their delicate branches,
Spruce and pine trees and boughs, God's Christmas Card.
Snowman white and round with eyes and mouth made of coal,
And a carrot nose, topped with a black hat and winter scarf.
The sounds of the sculpture are silent and reverent,
Only the sounds of the wind can be heard.
Parents and children creating these snow scenes,
Sounds of laughter, enjoying God's sculptures.
Mountains of snow, tall and small,
With smooth and rugged angles.
God's winter sculpture, his portrait of excellence,
To be appreciated by humanity.
Winter weather is a friend and not a foe,
And whereever you go God's beauty reigns.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
i love that these keys still speak to me
i love that you still speak to me
in dreams
as to
where and when
did i lay my head on manure
and kept doing it
over and under
leaving once and for all
as a last resort to
the familiar stink
that i've grown to love
it always flows new energy into my soul
while
i see that
the world is fluegeeying
down your throat
and i can't see that love was part
of that
the big stamp in history is trampling love
into some twisted creation
that is as useless
as a
a personal tax return
attached on the lapel of a corpse
dog meat!
corraled people
feel either extremely
agitated
or flowing towards
walmart
thereby
challenging the origin of their own
thoughts
or buying brand new
plastic shelving for the dog house