Earlobe Poems

NO TO THE SHOW

NO TO THE SHOW

You’re lying he said and shook his head
I know there is no witch in the wardrobe
And if she were there, I would be aware
Then he smiled and pulled on his earlobe

Then with a grunt, he turned to the front
With piercing gaze, spoke directly at me
I’ve heard that a lot, but it’s all just rot
All these stories are not real, but fantasy

Then just to be sure, he opened the door
So that we all could then examine inside
She was crouching there with straggly hair
Staring out, with her eyes now open wide

His daughter in that outfit he’d bought her
And he then shouted at her, very annoyed
Don’t be a , by dressing up as a witch
As my planned magic trick’s now destroyed

Tender Moments

Tender Moments,
Within them lies an unwritten poetry.
In the heart of the beholder
dwells its grace. 
It's charm gets ever bolder,
evolving into magnificence.
An art in itself, 
written anew,
from the back of your earlobe
to the tip of your toe.

ka~rum

Vincent Van Gogh

His life came to a ruinous end
Plummeted into insanity
The red-bearded painter 
With his self-hatred, despair and desperation for understanding
He drank yellow paint thinking it would make him happy 
Locked up in a mental asylum that would shatter any person’s self-belief
Deceived Vincent cut his earlobe in an unforeseen calamity 
But he channelled the awful torment into beauty
Immaculate and sublime 
To find ecstasy in the ordinary
And in transforming the banal into a magical masterpiece
The Starry Night, Sunflowers, Self-Portrait, The Potato Eaters, Wheatfield with Crows, Irises, The Bedroom in Arles 
Each a genius’s masterstroke into Eternity 
 A jumble of love, sorrow and rage
Painting the canvas in bold strokes as his heart and mind burst into flames
The King of colour, a whisper into the future unheard in his times
He died in a rut with voices all over his mind.
So, he picked up the gun 
And the bullet went straight into his golden heart
Wonder how many colours lost their lives on that day?

Adorned and Adored

Adorned and Adored

Let us adorn 
   our daughters with pearls!
Gifting 
One pearl — so very dearly 
   ocean-made, fresh…
To dress each earlobe
With a radiant luster,
Emphasizing the spirited 
Life-light 
In her glinting,
   mesmerizing eyes…

Then, gather your heart
To proudly place a string 
Of one or some pearls 
Around your daughter’s
    so-familiar neck 
To lay — more precious 
   and worthy than diamonds —
Just below her delighting smile.

Sun to my Sunflower

Billions of stars,
But I choose the Sun.

Ignoring all the noises
And all the pollution.
I'll live with him,
As long as, he's mine.
Even if he's not,
I'll stay with him,
As long as, he's alive.
(On his eyelashes, on the cut 
On his earlobe, in the tears and 
The smile and on the fingers which 
crossed mine).

He lightens my life,
Brightens the soul.
But darkens the world,
When sets off
Then why do you adore the moon
In the dark?
It's just a epitome for me
That my Sun is apart.
So you take the moon 
And I take the Sun.
'Cuz it's always him in the
Light or dull.

In the core of my heart,
I see myself walking with him.
With his radiance in gold fields.
No stars, Just Him.

Now it's the beginning of 
Our beautiful "The End".
With stars all over but
No noise, no pollution.
Standing as bright as ever.
Flashing on us as their,
"Main characters".

Me and Sun,
The perpetual togetherness.
So,
You take the moon
And I take the Sun
'Cuz it's always him in the
                Light or dull~

October Breeze

golden leaves rustling 
seventy and radiant 
hair tickles earlobe

Carol Burnett

Carol Burnett hosted a comedy show
And every week when it was time to go
A tug on her earlobe meant 'hi' to her grandmother.
Surely one earlobe is now longer than the other.

The Disheveled Prisoner

A bum rap the disheveled prisoner claims
Clamoring about in his padded cell
Unable to recall the women he maims,
He made their lives a living hell.
Lumbering about like a trapped animal
Rattling the bars, he shouts for a hearing
Nothing about him seems remotely rational
Not even the size of his earlobe piercing.

One might label him a piece of trash
Still, I think, every human has some worth
It’s so easy, in disgust, to strike out and bash,
But this man is some mother’s child at birth.

No doubt, she still loves him as mothers do
Unable to save him from his demon self,
She would caress him with a love so true,
Trying her best to see the best of him through
Another inexplicable betrayal of common sense
And failure to take any responsibility,
Compelling the situation toward a recompense
Although it will likely not alter his sensibility. 

Written November 16, 2022

Pi-Man

Simon met a man called Archimedes,
both slow traveling to fair on pedis.
"Yo, Archie dude," said Simon, very loud.
"Long time no-see, my gosh, you look so proud."

"They call me Pi-man now," replied the Greek.
"Why's that?" said Simon, sounding rather meek.
"For finding three point one four two, you know."
"It's rather set the universe aglow."

"What for?" said Simon tugging his earlobe.
"For measuring a circle, orb, or globe,
It's simple, Simon; I'll show you with a penny."
"Sorry, Pi-man dude, I don't have any."

Folly

i found Venus
de Milo's
arms
laying next
to van
Gogh's
earlobe

her fingers were
signing something
in Italian while
he frenchly
drank another
bottle of la
fee verte

she harmlessly
was miles
away
listening to deaf
Beethoven
conduct his 9th
symphony

Stuck In a Snow Globe With You

The sound of Christmas Eve fills our earlobe   
and pours out the message of the season 
snowflakes fall gently round the silver strobe  
and nestle deep within our sweet abode 
You and I are witnesses, of go-Christ 
like two magical trinkets in a rounded glass 
we take in the scene and feel sufficed
within this festive dream, unpriced 
Stuck inside a realm of beauty and sparkle 
our hair of tinsel cling to our eyes of bright 
we are figurines of still upon this silent hill 
sharing in this festive season of goodwill
Hugging the love that exudes all around 
we sit in this tiny globe without a sound.

Dec. 17, 2018

Contest Name: Christmas Cheer

Unwanted Guest

Suck blood like a vampire from a strange empire ,
Not invited but invite herself,
Pass through tiny holes and mesh of the net to 
Set her proboscis on the skin…
Night crawler and unwanted flying creature ..
Dances around your earlobe to infuriate you..And ..
You end up slapping your  ear with a big  bang..!
Her piecing mouth part sends strong signals to 
the  brain which can make the sane to be insane ..
Fever  is the outcome ,running temperature is his friend ,
And headache the mother..of all murders….
Anaemia plus lassitude will pay you a warm visit ,
Leading to excursion to the doctor’s home ;
Lab test shows plasmodium or salmonella…or …what?
Carried by this vector or rector called female anopheles…
 ....Mosquito.......





2-27-2017

Seductive Nature

The wind gust swept the ground with a rambunctious touch 
The sand blew angrily into a wide mist 
Whistling chimes sound off as they are struck abruptly by the breeze
Sounds  of splashing tickled the earlobe 
The water slapping up against the shore as it runs aground
Comforted by a blanket, a cover, a sheet...
in the bed of the earth's playground
Seductive Nature 
My mind is clear for once as I feel the temperature's touch

Equations

Every earlobe ever pierced, minus non-pierced lobes, without exception
 Quantified by head size, quality of piercings, and variety of earrings worn
   Under ultraviolet light, utilizing reflective space, sound waves and distance
    At appropriate intervals, measuring cut, clarity, carat, color and character
     Totaling to a six figure sum, then divided by US bonds withdrawn from IRA
     Increase the risk of screaming in agony, up to, but not more, than 50 decibels 
    On an operatic stage, bursting glass objects, as per fat lady singing, wherein
   Numerical miscalculations of damage, therein, must be subtracted from the
  Sum, so that all of said variables will not exceed the confusion of the bystander.

  


Written on 3/9/2016

She Wants the Sweet Fire

I exist, where your heart fails to resist the lips of love
on the earlobe of your aching beauty and the nipples of your curving needs,
I exist in the circuit of blue veins that circle your flowering soul,
the star that stirs violet sparks in the center of your solar plexus, 
I exist in the color of your lust
when your eyes espy the kiss between truth and desire,
I exist when temptation teaches your tears
that your sweetest strength is surviving within the arms of my firm affection, 
I exist when the angel in you rises with the ecstacy of phenomenal exertion,
I am alive in the heartbeat of your happiness -

J.A.B.

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