I wondered to watch the eccentric earth, Are you a green globe of the universe, Mighty mountains are your born head from birth, Sun and moon are your eyes says poet in verse.
You wear rivers as ornaments as worth, Forests are controlled by the beloved nurse, Decorate with lakhs of plants, you give mirth, And you have millions fauna of diverse.
Volcanoes are the design of the earth, Are you always changing by the worst curse?, And adjust to human alive like berth, You are not owned to fellow people purse.
Humankind belongs to the mother earth, Save the life of our future universe.
easy-going eccentric electric Eddie Edward
eagerly evolved, earnestly earning earthy eclectic
elixirs, executing exaggerated embellishments,
emotionalizing enchanting encyclopedic endorsements,
epitomizing enlightened entanglements, enticing envious emotions.
Let's dance for the dead,
In beautiful nightmares,
And together we create the most eccentric tragic story,
No one has foreseen,
Will you be my Vampire?
.
werdz
the need
sumtimez the
urgent
tuh spill
then again
Dear diary
she were strut'n
not stroll'n
her purty glanced at me
no
not stared
her countenance though
said
"i'm the wife you're
looking for"
Okay
but she
wink'd
There by the window is a huge portrait
It is quite whimsical yet dark despite sunshine
The eyes seem to follow you when you walk by
And it is rumored the woman was blind
But she had a sixth sense telling fortunes
And it is as if her portrait still reads you
I feel her soul seeping in the photo like an old tea bag
Such a handsome woman who had no glasses
Her eyes seem to always see despite the blank stare
Beneath the fluff of eyebrows peering below her huge hat
Her dress was colorful once now faded by time
She was known to be kind but eccentric but
A bit rebellious for a woman of her day
Each time I look at the eyes
I feel a strange sensation
Like she is not finish telling fortunes
Was she greeted by the death angel upon her end
Or did she rebel and descend to hell
Perhaps we find out when it is our time.
.
She laughed az she
jumped
the Spring
tripped in the
creek
Plop
top mine
in
The stream's
Winter
freeze
Gadgets have twiddle-rings and grabbit-bars,
press-its, turn-its, handles, and plugs.
Blackouts have candles, torches, Scrabble, cards,
Too dark for darts,
Watch your hair - it nearly caught fire,
Waxy bits on the table,
And dried mashed potato on the plates
where the washer-upper didn’t see it.
eccentricity
defines chihuahua hairy....
hikes everywhere now
heart disease kills our small dogs
congenital defect ~me
I learn almost 10 years ago that I have a congenital heart defect plus a tumor in the wall of my heart. I now have the third dog dying with heart problems. It is so hard watching them slowly die.
Gustavo’s Rite
He walked onto the harbor beach at sunset,
planting a small net on a pole like a guidon,
and setting soiled cloth bags around it.
Alone on the beach he began his dance.
Mismatched clothes flapping, he swayed,
then paced, then crouched to pat the sand
into a crescent, then stepped back and back,
dug sand by hand, finding black things
and tossing them into a jumbled pile .
He stepped easily, as if riding waves,
moving in erose shapes only he knew.
Then he gathered net and bags and left,
not glancing back at the cairn
of burnt wood and asphalt fragments.
All this I watched from a restaurant deck,
and had to ask the waiter about him.
“Gustavo,” he said, shrugging, “a local character.”
I nodded but kept silent, recalling that morning
walking another beach, trying to feel profound.
A weird old woman loved cats
And outlandish broad-rimmed hats
Why should we think it odd
The old dame is quite mod,
Why she even dines with her bats.
written, Winter 1972
edited June 29, 2021
[first published in The Hoosier Challenger, 1972;
republished in By-Line, Summer, 1989]
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
Surely some old eccentric lord
In a mansion, born both rich and barmy,
Who could so lavishly afford
A mighty artful minion army
Of sowers of seed and pullers of weed
Of mowers of grass and spreaders of feed
That could do for him each filthy deed
And meet the lawns fortnightly need.
But we, suburban lowly born,
Must perforce do all this on our own
Lest our green and lifeless lawn
Become like a meadow, overgrown.
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
© Barry Freeman – May 4th 2020
If you don't have a garden,
You can still cultivate your eccentricities without pardon.
It is not that hard,
Even if you have no yard.
As long as you have a book,
You can achieve that eccentric look,
Without money in the bank,
Or petrol in the tank.
Eccentricities will grow inside your concrete box,
Even if you have no locks.
You can grow one on the run,
If you really want some fun.
It is best to start when you are young,
So you never have to carry a gun,
As eccentricity gives you a better way to act,
And that is a fact.
If you plan to grow old,
Without being alone in the cold,
Then your eccentricity should take centre stage,
As it only gets better with age.
Our grandson I am pleased to announce,
Is now leading us in a dance,
We think he will be eccentric by the time he is two,
And will teach his Mother to be eccentric too.
So, if you want your personality to become electric,
A little cultivating will make you eccentric,
Giving you the best chance,
In leading a life of fun and romance.
He was known as an eccentric;
Saving all of those bolts in a bucket
and for what?
No one really knew, except himself.
He kept numerous old jugs and cartons
around the house,
as if they were valued treasures.
Old string and ropes that he’d saved,
were tied in numerous knots;
each knot, the same distance apart.
There were shelves in his garage,
sporting old prescription containers,
full of small nails and tacks.
Old cardboard from laundered shirts,
and gardening magazines, stacked high;
reeking of must and mildew.
No one really understood why he saved everything.
His yard, full of buckets, sticks and…
old nylon hose, and torn pieces of worn shirts,
hung from the rafters in his garden shed.
See, he was a crack’in gardener;
his tomatoes were staked;
tied to the sticks with the old rags and nylons.
The buckets, he carried to the neighbors,
filled with luscious produce
and everyone in the neighborhood,
savored, the fruits of his labor,
for years on end.
eccentric she was
socially awkward
somewhat paranoid
with bizarre twitches
not mixing in
an outcast
of her own doing
a square peg
in a round hole
not fitting in
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
posted on September 11, 2018
Open eyed, long tearless, foul silvered orbs
have you no pity? The aqua tide rides dry.
Blind staring scorches, accusing twin barbs
who burrow inward, a destiny to decry.
Scattered rendering, puzzled pieces aligning;
"Please mercy has a place, why can't I cry?"
Remove the cataract veneer, stop my pining
"Have you no place for maddened souls such as I?"
Nailed to the boards you see a canvassed psyche
dabbed upon a casein shroud in hues most bright.
"How many lamp lit days will you seek to find me?"
The light betrays me and I live in eternal fright.
Eternities unfold in Lovecraft Tales
upon the silvered side within my eyes; hell wails.
Related Poems