Destitute, O destiny?
Thinning at the ranks?
Doubtful, thy delivery.
Whom to give our thanks?
Riddle red run roundabout?
Automaton, flee!
Rhyme, ravine, regime, rot, rout!
Blessed, blackout, be...
Unity of message?
And what would be the point?
Straits, afford the passage?
O yellow priest, anoint...
Teeth, open in serried row!
Faces, peer in deep!
Broken is the golden bow?
O my masters, weep!
Weakness in the belly?
There's always lots of that.
Predators, hie to hell. He!
Nameless names from hat...
Ocean water, rush in quick...
Break the candlestick.
Light the match, ignore the wick.
Give the end a flick.
Burst upon the basement?
O slaughterhouse, succor.
Evil case of easement?
Weathervane, point to war.
special delivery the snail-man said as he came up the walk
the recipient was so surprised, she forgot how to talk
the letter had been mailed from Viet Nam in seventy-two
How many years back? Let’s see…..fifty-two
what kept you? she asked, her fingers shaking the envelope.
I brought it straight to you, said the snail, thinking she was a dope.
He had brought it to her as fast as he could and on the double.
Maybe hiring snails to deliver mail is asking for some kind of trouble.
the dogs are barking violently
at an intruder I cannot see
a delivery man comes into sight
fearing he might become their next bite
They are penned, I point out to him
He does not look confident, his body thin
He throws the package and runs off
I roll my eyes and the dogs both scoff
under the serpent mound prudent
demons (NOT monsters) preserve the
nuts and
endosperm meant for
later day
postmen to deliver
when the time is
all too convincingly ripe
a punch in the nose
what punctation deserves
~ punctually yours
Alluring
Bouquet
Carnations
Delivered.
Envelope
Florist
Gorgeous,
Honoring
Inks
Journey
Keeping
Love
Moreover
Needing
Ours.
Purposely
Quickening
Revealed
Safety
Transforming
Unselfish
Value
Wreathing;
X-raying;
Yearning;
Zen!
The Wait
Anticipation
A Situation
The Call
A Circumstance
The Follow Up
No Response
Four Days
Out for Delivery
Haven’t Received
Rage
Air traffic control has spotted a strange object in the sky
Moving at the speed of sound, bright lights flashing by
Radio contact has been made, a request to land on every roof in town
Air space has been cleared, and the landing textbook without a sound
A man in a red suit climbs out to check the flight crew of eight reindeer
A last chance to view the naughty and nice list before he disappears
The elves have reported all the chimneys are clear
Santa has been on a strict weight loss program, no need to fear
Presents are all separated and ready for delivery, must be handled with care
Timeline to get moving, such a big job no time to spare
Christmas comes but once a year, enjoy it spread goodwill and lots of cheer
Thank you Santa for another job well done, and we will see you again next year
In the morning light, a milk bottle stands,
A relic of bygone days, in my trembling hands.
Embossed with nostalgia, a link to the past,
From the dairy farm, where memories last.
As a little girl, I'd wait with glee,
For the sound of the milkman, with bottles three.
Clad in white, with a smile so kind,
Bringing fresh milk, a treasure to find.
The clink of glass, the cool touch of the jar,
Filled with creamy goodness, from cows afar.
A cap of foil, a symbol of care,
Delivered with love, from the dairy farm fair.
Each morning ritual, a simple delight,
The taste of fresh milk, a pure delight.
In that old bottle, a story untold,
Of days gone by, of memories bold.
Now the milkman is gone, the farm a memory,
Yet in that bottle, lives a legacy.
Of childhood moments, of innocence so sweet,
In the simple act of milk delivery, a connection complete.
A living poem, not yet written,
not yet visible, haunts the periphery
of the inner eye.
She is as light as a feather,
though she has a deep-set gravity,
her presence impels my mind toward her.
Which way to seek?
The poem that is not yet created
is a womb both empty and full,
its potential
demands subservience.
A dark machinery makes love,
to the unsubstantial,
and one single insight is born,
from that seed within a seed,
she nakedly comes,
now you must dress her.
late shoppers are in for big trouble
their deliveries are abubble
as everyone knows
all department stores close
USPS loads are all double
Have we become mindless shoppers
Arriving home
Wondering
“what’s in that bag”
Pushing the “reorder” button
On a “saved” grocery list
Waiting for a “text”
To verify your existence.
The “nutrition” police
Have scanned your order
(aka know as request)
And altered said “request”.
Your compliance will be monitored
A bell will ring to remind you
When it is time to consume
The offerings of the day.
Please feel free to contact us
No one will respond
But your arrogance
Will be recorded.
Special delivery mail mouse man
Dances his route whenever he can.
Living his dream of being a mailman.
Loving it as only an optimistic dreamer can.
The rat was astounded, he had expected the stork today.
But his mail was delivered at two by a sweet blue jay.
“No other delivery birds in sight?” Mr. Rat asked, expectantly.
“Maybe in the afternoon, but it would be after three,”
Each day from my apartment window
I watch you walk down the street
into the warm coral sunset
with your tangerine-sized love
that you carry in a woven basket down
the street, doling them out to strangers
and watching the juices drip down their
familiar chins.
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