Blow-ball and Cankerwort,
words born from a common tongue.?
Lions tooth, ?
Priests Crown, ?
Moles Salad and piss-a-bed.?
?
English is most practical ?
when it is rustic and colloquial.
‘Swine Snout’ snorts loud upon the page.
The yarrow-yellow flowers last for hours
then overnight turn to fairy bones.
I recall us both sat upon the grass
blowing unfettered puffs into the wind,
our hair littered with stemmed parasols
the pirouetting flotsam of the airborne.?
?
The damply dunked sounds of sneeze-helicopter's,?
the muddy splatter of piggy snozzles.
Lions Teeth are its leaf, mix well with Burdock
for a low tea under a shady tree.
Beware of false dandelions such as ?
cats ears and coltsfoot.?
The Chinese, Pu Gong Ying is the real thing.
After we had covered each other
with dandelion kisses
we made hay the old fashioned way.
Categories:
damply, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Blowball and cankerwort,
words born from a common tongue.
English is most practical
when it is rustic and colloquial.
Lions tooth, priests crown,
moles salad and pee-a-bed.
‘Swine snout’ snorts loud upon the page.
The yarrow-yellow flowers last for hours
then overnight turn to fairy bones.
I recall us both sat upon the grass
blowing unfettered puffs into the wind,
our hair littered with stemmed parasols
the pirouetting flotsam of the airborne.
The French have alternate names,
herbal idioms difficult to spell,
but we savor together taraxacum
for it is a diuretic and wets the tongue,
as do the damply dunked sounds
of sneeze-helicopter's and
the muddy splatter of piggy snozzles.
Lions teeth are its leaf,
mix well with burdock
for a low tea under a shady tree.
Beware of false dandelions
such as cats ears and coltsfoot.
The Chinese, Pu Gong Ying
is the real thing.
After we had covered each other
with dandelion kisses
we made hay the old fashioned way.
Feel free to spell dandelion
the way you would write
a long sunny day.
Categories:
damply, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It's been a cloudy, flat July
Confined by brittle yellow grass
Crooked fingers of tattered brass
Misty draped mornings, damply dry
A breath of heat escapes the chill
To stir dull blooms, waxy and still
Void of colors of butterflies
From edges of my eyes pass through
Memories in orange and blue
Summer rays in meager supply
Warm rain thinly dabs the willow
Barely touching branches below
Til grace of evening stars comply
by length of lavender twilight
Reviving my soul with delight
It's been a cloudy, flat July
Misty draped mornings, damply dry
Void of colors of butterflies
Summer rays in meager supply
Til grace of evening stars comply
7/26/20
Entered in 'Constanza - Old or New' contest
Judged 09/05/20
Categories:
damply, nature, rain, stars, summer,
Form: Rhyme
A wheezing help'ng jolt floats daintily
As raindrops tumble on from the sky
While the earth snickers mischievously
In squalls that rant in the windy eye
Treetops influence, the move of breeze
Blowing harvest time leaf laughs damply
O' the land bows down among the trees
Sneering blast exhaust endearingly
Protesting with indecent ascent
Pre-winter sun spreads blue litany
Extending in a chilled jubilant
As pre-winter stoops into flurry
Categories:
damply, nature,
Form: Quatrain
On bed I lay, just staring at the ceiling
And watching the fan rotate damply
Like the propeller of a wounded plane.
Bedridden for three days by fever.
The rotation of the fan makes my head
Goes round and round with eyes
Popping out like the nose of a clown.
I lay coughing like hags do
As my chest explode with insistent pain.
So I sat trying to fix my gaze
But the world seems to be blur
B'cos am famished due to loss of appetite.
Nothing seems to be able to run down my throat
So I thought I needed a lubricant
Bt that idea was too absurd.
So there I lie, like a mannequin on display
Trying to cover the stinking cave of my mouth
As I filled the room with foul aroma.
I tried to rectify errors in my health
So I started eating "mushrooms".
Surprisingly, there I lay till this day
Dilapidated and in despair.
Categories:
damply, hyperbole, sick,
Form: Narrative
The day has been too long.
The promise of a scented dawn
Lost its fulfilment in the dazzling brilliance
Of a hot, bright sun
And the tingle of a moment’s rapture
Flowed rapidly into the throbbing pulse of insecurity.
Noon stretched nerves to a breaking point
And tension clung to the midday air
As clothes stuck damply to the sweating body.
Sunset brought relief, as a peaceful calm
Settled down with the night.
In the silence of my new-found freedom
I gaze upwards into infinity
And contemplate the knowledge
Fixed in the striking monochrome
Of Christ crucified against a paling moon
While in his dreams, man savours
The rotten splendour of success.
------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Impress me (with a poem I haven't read yet)
Sponsored: Poet Destroyer A (2014)
Placed: 5th
Categories:
damply, freedom, success,
Form: Free verse
Since spring forgot to come and winter stayed,
My garden is untilled, seeding delayed.
A sodden March ran damply through each day.
I hope for April to remove the gray.
Each April is reserved for tulip tours.
The brilliant colors are delightful lures.
The tulips are attracting avid fans,
While other crops fill in as also rans.
Our valley is a beauty in the spring,
But spring is not here yet and that’s the thing.
We pray the sun comes out and is on time
For merchants to attract the tourist’s dime.
So now it’s up to April to perform
To give us days that are spring like and warm.
So tourists can find beauty and some fun
And I at last can get my yard work done.
Categories:
damply, nature, spring, beauty, april,
Form: Heroic Couplet
when timely, her karma caramelizes
again my wanting muse appears
lovely texts brown to terse chastises
to say her allotment is in arrears
recipe read, were ingredients omitted
so the pie comes out tastelessly hard
measures all measured, fruits are pitted
crust past flakey to a coffee charred
better type for your life buddy
this lovely dessert so inopportune
turns eyes to looking damply ruddy
time you start howlin' at the moon
turn down the heat, get baking soda
final notes played, song's closing coda
© Goode Guy 2011-06-15
turn oven on high, bake until dry, dispose of
Categories:
damply, food, lost love
Form: Sonnet
It is the solemn evening song that drifts,
into the valley cup, from the saucer of the moon,
and spreads in wings of darkness, nightshade breath;
arising as molecules of black oil, up from the pithead mouth,
following to the shower stalls, disrobing of the filth,
to hunch below the steaming spray, absolved of dirt and death.
On then, to the concrete block beside the rugby pitch,
where yellow light bleeds damply from the condensation panes,
and into atmosphere, plagued tobacco smoke and gusting beer;
sorrows drowned in pints of ale, pulled foaming from the taps,
the glasses raised and toasted to the ending of the day,
in the fog and mist of hops and fumes the hurt will disappear.
The old boys hold their tongues and smile their toothless smiles,
the cancer in their lungs as grim and fibrous as malignant roots,
unfolds a steady, lazy spread, the wings of metastasis;
until the end of Pithead days, when slaughter of the proudest land,
and plunder of the earth desists, slain by some politic,
who and in what sanity pretext dreamed such a life as this?
Categories:
damply, history, people, places, sad,
Form: Verse