It was nearly midnight
when he slipped out of bed,
careful not to wake her.
The house exhaled its silence—
walls warm with sleep,
timber creaking
from the day’s last heat.
He padded to the kitchen
in bare feet, opened the cupboard
where li’l miss had hidden
a note for him the day before:
“I love you even when you forget milk.”
He smiled at that.
Switched on the stovetop light—
not bright enough to disturb,
just enough to see his notebook.
He scribbled under
a half-written poem:
“Faith is not thunder. It’s a fridge humming through the night.”
A creak behind him.
Li’l Miss in her tiny dressing gown,
one sock half-off, thumb in her mouth.
“You writing again?” she asked.
He nodded.
She nodded back, solemnly,
like a poet-in-training,
and padded away.
The cupboard light blinked once
and stilled. He returned to his pen.
The house listened.
.
morning blooms
i wilt in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep watching for you to come back home
afternoon glows
i fade in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep listening for you to turn the nob on that door branded with my broken heart
evening glistens
i darken even more in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep sniffing for even a small hint of your favorite perfume
sleep is a thing of the past like our love
the shirelles sing exactly what and how i feel
i worry none about eviction or homelessness
both begun the instant you said 'goodbye for good'
my hope is a mudpie with a careless footprint in it
the cupboard of my heart is bare
the foundation of my being will forever have a permanent tear
I used to scrub my memory clean
I packed the sadness
Into an old cupboard
Before I packed my tiredness
Into the night
And slept soundly
I locked the rain and the wind outside
I never let the cupboard open nor let the sun in
Hoping that the sadness will degenerate and walk away
With the old days
And with the old cupboard
When the garbage truck comes by one day
Oh childhood lullaby
Yee of bedtime sheep tailored
dream woven pillowcase
Ticking striking momentum behind
hidden crossed finger hand
Conical , decoherence pyramid shape
of future held in open palm
In barren room furnished simply
with a wardrobe hidden in a corner
Beckoning forth an erstwhile champion to
penetrable it's wonder-wall of secrets
And relieve them of the key so
as they can sleep and keep no more
While those who unbeknownst to them
know what they are not
Safely slumber under moon and star
pulsar up above and far further beyond
Sheltering under love's protection from
the bite of the north cold winds jagged teeth
cutting through bare exposed flesh
Who's purpose they believe is to challenge
the power of the witches spell and stroke
a lion's mane
And hopefully imagination permitting
return via the very same rabbit hole
they entered
To speak and tell of such graphic tales in
the key of lullaby that children just like
themselves can even understand
And willingly wish to go to bed in order
to dream
And resume the search of last night's
merriment and folly
The cat pregnant
Under the cupboard
tasting comfort
resting assured
All seems better
until this sleeping queen
feels the hunger
and the belly delays her meal.
Context: whenever our cat gets pregnant she goes under the cupboard and has a very difficult time coming out cuz her baby bump gets stuck.
Selfie at Wat Rong Khun temple, Thailand
was the screen saver on my mobile phone.
My three year old daughter asked ‘where’s this land?’
Heart fluttered, for I was not there alone,
so I murmured something in monotone.
Till date, when my daughter takes me aside,
if asked, I’d say she was a tourist guide!
Clandestine encounters of shady past,
from phone erased, in memory reside.
If truth revealed, my girl will be aghast!
24-March-2021
Look at this place! poetry contest
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
Long gone, the flowers
graceful heralds of Spring
In yon meadow, a lone crow
awaits a new blanket of snow
No monarchs fill the air
tree branches vacant stare
The dreary dull colors
suffuse hearts with despair
Why, late in December
is winter's cupboard still bare
No ice ponds or snowmen
or sleep for the bear
Dear old woman who lives in a shoe
The dear old woman who’s house is a shoe
For Christmas she doesn't know what she can do
She can't afford beer for seasonal cheer
And her kids will have no presents this year.
On top of it all her cupboard is bare
She looked in her purse and nothing was there
Hungry mouths she can't feed has her in tears
Yesterday's dreams have become kilns of fears.
What's more her love interest's gone away
He just could not stand her another day
The home is too cold and way far too old
With no room for all who live in the fold.
He told her that he never would come back
He wanted to live in a decent shack
He'd found soothing balm in another's arms
A beautiful lady of many charms.
That is what hurt her inside most of all
More than dear old Humpty Dumpty's big fall
No King's horses, not even the King's men
Could put her heart back together again.
3rd December 2020
My cupboard would not be, by any standard held
considered neat or clean, nor free of crumb or dust.
But stores I keep abound, enough to nourish me
and keep me warm on nights, when hope is all but gone.
Across the hall there sits a basement door, unlocked
Where things that should not be await the darkened night
Their thrumming breath pulsates between the door and sill
And sunlight dances on the kitchen floor all day
My weary hands explore and blindly fish about
With each extended palm I strain to make a choice
The shelving seems to stretch as if to mock and scold
And I retreat and turn and kick that basement door
And when the sun has stretched itself from end to end
She’ll tiptoe from the scene and leave her stage deplete.
To let a chill set forth above the wooden berm
beneath the door unlatched, ajar, corrupt, contempt.
A stirring from behind the cupboard door escapes.
Subconscious brutes waylay the precious things I keep
as rations moan and shriek with horrors that don’t speak.
I’d sleep but I cannot for all that heinous noise.
Oh Freddy ,
Freddy my buddy
you haunt my dreams,
and you play the violin
you sit on my couch,
wearing a bloody pouch
you giggle and you creek,
all your wooden little teeth
your buckle is black,
and a button you lack.
It pours acid rain,
when you run through my drains
your fingers they're cold,
as they choke me with their hold
your eyes they roll,
as you creep and you crawl
you chuckle and you mumble,
while you chop and you grumble
you growl a nasty howl,
standing behind a towel.
oh Freddy with machete,
don't cut up Miss Nelly!
13-10-19
Give Me Your Best New Poem
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
My only thought on love resembles this:
From such a distance I was nearly there,
I watched a couple strip each other bare.
They did a shot and shared a slobbered kiss,
and it was smooth and it went down like bliss.
He was the younger of the stumbling pair,
(she had a thing for youth, that saucy mare),
and twenty-seven drunk in thirty-six
conceives in thought a Marci’s likely fixed.
Besides of which, she didn’t seem to care,
and even arched her back to get him there -
to where the chromosomes of rum are mixed.
And so this couple, then, got shotgun hitched,
where he would drown like me, in a bone-dry ditch.
Glimmer
Shimmer
Diet until thinner
Bleach one's teeth
Go under the surgeon's knife
Live the Hollywood life
Accumulate wealth
Excercise daily
Eat like a squirrel
But if you don't feed the middle
The bit between your head
You might as well be dead
Because you can't cheat yourself
A shelf is still a shelf
Despite the look of the cupboard
I’m kept hidden in the cupboard,
always under lock and key;
dare not come into the open
how disgraceful it would be!
I sit cramped, my bones are aching,
a dark secret in the dark;
I can’t even take a breather
for a scandal it could spark.
I’m condemned to live forever
out of sight from prying eyes
while my master’s troubled conscience
covers up for endless lies.
How I wish for change of fortune
so the truth will all come out.
It would give me back my freedom
then with joy I’ll jump and shout!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contest: Whitsun Premier
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Placed: 5th
© 22nd May 2017
Cupboard
Afford.
Spacious
Gracious.
Standing, Hoping, Looking...
Into an empty cupboard.
Hoping, Yearning, Longing...
I know not what to do.
So I ask myself...To see if HE might know.
Ah...Whatever!
I'm going to McDonald's!!
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