A Little Fish
I opened a tin of sardines in olive oil for my evening meal.
Headless and nicely packed they were, except for one that
had a head-on was alive. I filled water in a jar.
Put the sardine in and fed it bread crumbs.
The headless sardines in the tin, so still and dead, I could
not eat them, put the tin back in the fridge.
My little sardine grew too big for the jar, and cats were circling
The house, looking for a way in, so I took it to the empty lake
that once had Bluegills fished to extinction,
set my sardine free to feed on rotten vegetation-
I don`t know how fish reproduce, but a year later, a school
of sardines were swimming around, except for one that
swam the opposite way- Bonanza! Grilled sardines and
The people rejoiced, thinking it was going to last forever,
And then there were none except one, my sardine in oil.
I went down to the lake when the sardine saw me
was glad, jumped up in the air, and was caught by a bird.
Empty lake, a dead eye in the wilderness, tells no story.
Palindrome Limerick:
High "Noon"
A gun duel set for high "noon"
A noisy crowd gathers round soon
See Dead-"Eye" "level" his gun
Against the quick, evil "Nun"
Then the "pop" gun went, Ka-boom!
A Brisling (King Oscar sardines)
I opened a tin of sardines in olive oil for supper
Headless and nicely packed, except for one
that had a head and was alive.
I put the live one in a glass jar; the others looked
so dead I could not eat them, put the tin back
into the fridge
My little King Oscar sardine grew and was too
big for a jar, I had fed it bread crumbs,
real home
baked with butter.
Suddenly, there were many cats in the yard the adventurous cats tried to find an open window
I took my sardine to an empty lake.
the lake had once been full of bluegill, but overfished
to extinction, I sat my sardine free to feed on rotten
vegetations
I don't know how fish procreate, but soon there were
too many of them, a school of silvery beings
swimming around except for one going the opposite way
Bonanza!
Grilled sardines and red wine, people rejoiced, thought
this was going to last forever until there were non
except for my sardine, now so big it scared cats
when it saw me, it was so happy, jumped out of the water
caught by a passing eagle
Empty lake, a dead eye in the wilderness, tells no story
Wonky is nature's norm!
Our obsession with straightness,
conceived in arrogant innocent bliss,
kowtows to a belief
that adroit straightness
following straight lines,
somehow makes things stronger, smarter,
more eye-pleasing and ever better in the long run.
But entropy knows better than the 'know-alls',
that everything transforms and decays
to maximum disorder in time.
For order and straightness
requires the input of energy
and effort that entropy lusts
to pull down, bend, twist and topple.
Being simply, wonky simple is a start!
Light beams at dawn, are one of the
rare straight things things seen in nature.
These beams shine dead-eye straight
into wonky clouds that blush red,
embarrassed to be caught outside,
in fluffy slippers with night clothes on,
feeling kinda shonky, disheveled and wonky, as
the humans, straight-faced,
said they were.
I hope worms devour me, cross my heart and let it be that my coffin lid lies loose.
Lovely little bird, I don’t know if you’ve heard that I found you dead by my front door.
No more chirping, singing lark. I put your body in the dark belly of the underground.
Its image haunts me though, and I suppose I’ll never know what it was that scared said lark to death.
Rotting underneath the earth the tiny creature shook with mirth while marveling at life’s cruelty.
Its ghost I could not shake, and every time that I should wake I’d hear it laughing louder.
So I retrieved the corpse from far below and chopped off its head with one swift blow, and it was at long last silent.
Obliging black arms,
crooked fingers cut freezing
as they reach for winter
greys, blues of sky-
The trees are framed within
her eyes green as last
Summer's carpet.
Embroidery of native
life. Mulish winds sweep
lands...violence loved,
admired. A milled earth
is hushed to lull, charm.
Blue wings soft as May
fold into the afternoon chill.
A chalk sun throws gold
dust into a sketch;
a raped land is the captive
of oppression; false-
hoods, folly, darken
the tenets that twist and break
in the immoral wind.
attracted to her fingers
and slippery as an eel
its one dead eye stares at her
— the silver dollar
lonely child spoons dirt over
the sandwich bag zippered shut
there’s naught burial at sea
— two sticks form a cross
10/13/2018
Ah, faith! Golly gosh, life in the city!
Hustle and bustle n' a big metro wander
Exhaustion, life, anger and pretty gritty
Misty, grimy lights loudly grab a beggar
The sidewalk shops like a cold surround
Hot action, big ole' vanilla sidewalks
Graffiti walls, in dab color bound
Hot streets quietly grab nighthawks
Where is the sunny cloud vapors?
In downtown burg retreats
Out above on dark street skyscrapers
Crestin' over in mean dark streets
U' gotta love corner words
Chatter, rattle, natter, prattle
People jabber like yakkety-yak birds
Cigarettes gab under dark doorway shadow
Gazing in windows calmly at low down
In dusty, dry walk-in cafes
Grimy flowers grab at dead grass mown
Fish eyeing brutal building facades, near dead eye alleyways
Oh, noise!
Man like a machine
Never like a jackhammer that annoys
The faceless toiler that is mean and lean
Horn noise, action, in a 'crown vic'
Cabbies scowering for revenues
While crashing, dashing in street quick
O' life in bright light big city blues
Within the blah blah blah, heart of the city
You can endure all that jazz you wish it to be
here be layin mean en evil tombstone jack
they done shot em six times in the back
they was afeard of his dead eye aim
that gived jack his well knowd name
but now they kin jist call em holey
Authors Note:
The spelling, grammar errors and dialect
are done intentionally.
It is my attempt to keep within the 1800's era writing style.
A writer of that time period was lucky to be able
to write their own name.
A Little fish
I opened a tin of sardines in olive oil for my evening meal.
Headless and nicely packed they were except for one that
had a head on and was alive. I filled water in a glass jar put
the sardine in and fed it bread crumbs.
The headless sardines in the tin so still and dead I could
not eat them put the tin back in the fridge.
My little sardine grew too big for the jar cats were circling
the house looking for a way in, so I took it to the empty lake
that once had Bluegills fished to extinction,
set my sardine free to feed on rotten vegetation
I don`t know how fish reproduces, but a year later a school
of sardines were swimming around except for one that
swam the opposite way- Bonanza! Grilled sardines and
the people rejoiced thought it was going to last forever,
and then there were none except one my sardine in oil.
I went down to the lake when it saw me it was so glad
it jumped up in the air and was caught by a passing bird.
Empty lake a dead eye in the wilderness tells no story.
Evidenced
FIFTYFOUR
CharlaXFabels
The Church Parsonage on Church Street the old Methodist Church where eye
used to go to church it Burned down.
My mother died a horrible murder death.
My brother died in a car wreck.
We used to fight each other though eye was elder he was bigger.
Eye was a weak and sickly child of GOD.
My Father died and eye do not knoe what of.
Eye was not always allowed to live at home.
My room was taken and the things in it like my toy box and the comics and the
yearbooks were all destroyed.
Eye was given a hardship discharge from the ARMY.
My home at Morrilton was burned down by a natural gas line leak which then
exploded. My family always hated me and wanted me to die alone. Eye stopped
my consumptive habits and was in a real fight in Arizona only was beaten into
Jesus and left to die half dead eye still try to live and love and write this is mye bio
mye evidenced.
Riding the quarter slot pony
at Woolworth’s five & dime
Would send this half pint cowgirl
back to another time
I was Calamity Jane riding hell bent
to bring the US mail,
Annie Oakley, with dead eye aim,
shooting lint specks off a nail,
In my games of Cowboy & Indian
everyone would win
The Lone Ranger & Tonto
were my two bestest friends
Out in the back yard,
on my old swing set
I created memories
that I will never forget
I would swing & sing for hours
loud enough for the world to hear
I rode the meanest broncs
never showed a bit of fear
I dreamed of Being like Tad or Fox
Weren’t nobody putting me in a china box
while momma dreamed of frills & lace
In my dreams, I always rode ahead of the race
I always wore a white hat
& never lost a fight
Evil wore a black hat
& a heart as black as night
I find myself wishing
more often here of late
That I could return again
to that childhood age of eight
When everything made more sense
& innocence wasn’t lost
I wonder, if I turned back time,
what would be the cost?
© April 2005
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