Aunt Edna’s cauldron was full of elixir green and high
I’m making myself a date, a wonderful, attentive guy.
The rest of us snickered at her unusually clever wit.
But in a few hours she had created a man named Chit.
Chit was the perfect date; he laughed at every joke.
Patted her back when he thought she might choke.
Kept quiet unless Aunt Edna squeezed his head.
Make me one too said her sister, I’ll call him Ted.
My twin sister wanted to say “hi” to Edna, a neighbor lady
Someone I had not seen in fifty years
I was not keen, having never liked her.
But my sister insisted, so I said “okay” after a lot of begging.
We stopped at Edna’s house.
My twin rang the doorbell.
Edna came outside.
I heard her say “Hi Carolyn!” in a delighted way
Then she saw me and said “Caren what HAVE you been EATING?”
a reminder that I outweigh my twin sister by forty pounds.
A lunar cave sheilded them
from the horrors of radation
there the Moondogs
honed there skills and became
revered by the challenges of nature.
Martain Microbes and
Titan Sulfurnites
the Crystals of a space time Contentioum
filled the area were
the Magnif One
Duplicater wuld build
the first ever Home World vessel
to store the inhabitants of Earth.
Earth a World far, far away!
Earth, there a twinkle in the galaxy.
Earth a place destined t jear the tales
of these Astromic explorors.
Earth there beyond the
the hemishere of the Moon, Mars and the Earth like
moon of Saturn!
They were astronuants in space when
earth was conquered by 55 Cancri e a distant planet in Space!
frustrations and stressful events that gave way
to the spaceship docked above earth.
The camera show
were the astronauts on the moon, Mars and Titan
rallied to join together
and spearhead the
effects to reconcour earth.
The far, far planet earth home to these
earthings.
I never thought you could go wrong
If you added color, for I love it so.
But my cousin Edna who wore a thong
Went overboard until I yelled “whoa!”
Your eyes do not get used to the patterns there.
Up, down, sideways, backwards, everywhere.
I thought a rainbow kitchen would be fine.
But it was ridiculously overdone and out of line.
I know you will love it, Edna said to me.
She brought me down to give a look see.
Her idea was so ridiculously positively overrated,
Horrified, I did not like what she had created.
Edna stalked marriagable prey
the way most men stalk tigers
not at all.
Lived the majority of her years
Happily worrying about
one person's feelings - hers.
Edna remained resolutely single
happy with her hobbies
traveling carefree
Joyfully visiting China, Japan, India
Learning things other could never learn
on a first hand basis.
Edna has spent her life
doing what she wants when she wants
She has amassed wealth
She has no one to leave it to
but no worries. She has other trips.
Other dreams, and she is far from finished.
Edna falls in love at the age of seventy-two.
Her first diamond is a joy.
She is thrilled.
A new path.
Edna Purcell
1912-1930
Dying a virgin was the least of my regrets.
Dying a chaste woman at 18 seemed a moot point.
I remember watching my momma die.
It was in summer, and I was 16.
Hopelessly disconsolate, that’s how I felt;
How would I live without her?
Why was she so cruelly taken from me?
How did she get so sick?
My demise, then, was the anticlimax of my short sad life.
Oh cruel Fate, you!
I despise your insatiable appetite for shattered lives;
Indeed, I spit on you for all the ill-timings and bad luck.
I spit on your wry smile, lurking there,
Behind the shadowy trellis,
Of private episodes with flowers and silk;
You, with those arrogant knowing glances,
Those imploding muscular arms of private desperation.
I died a virgin indeed, never having you,
Died with an empty heart and a reeling soul.
Life was just a foolish grab for nothing;
Always seeming to have enough,
But always wanting much more.
That was life, my life in this quiet religious town.
So, I died a virgin in 1930. I was 18.
Too late for me, I guess.
All I wanted, was to spit in your face!
Oh cruel Fate, wrecker of dreams!
In Homage to Edna St Vincent Millay
To gaze upon truth is to look upon beauty bare,
Though few have done so save those who walk
The halls of academe, and speak with nature in
Its nakedness. We, we such souls who wander in
The wilderness of life, lost, anxious, low in mood,
Beset with this concern, and that conflict,
We have our own truths. That distant footfall
Of sandal on stone is but an echo far away,
Lost within the clamour of our thoughts.
Truth is the silence that follows our plea
Thrown into the aether, or countless rejection
Of casual offers of close engagement. Truth
Is the cold realisation of life taking this rocky path,
Rather than that gold paved avenue to paradise.
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
composed of and comprises, just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes savoir faire, a knack for etymology.
********
...meant as a love sonnet to a dear friend.
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of aetiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Not choosy about person's sex when she played
Nor age of the person with whom she lay
However, her poetry brightens my day
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: Seeking A Fresh Crop Of Clerihew
...for a good friend
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the secrets of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of etiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
composed of and comprises, but a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Some new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
bastardize, dilute the power of language,
snuck instead of sneaked, no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
She communicates with skill, singular fluency,
with savoir fair, a flair for etymology!
Poetess Edna St. Vincent Millay
Was different for the times they say
Her lyrical works opened thought ray
Touching my very mind, heart this day
Contest: One single four line
End Rhyme Either Of aaaa,
abab,abba
Sponsor: Brian Strand
...to Juvie
What better name for one who'd analyze
and scrutinize the sources of logomachy,
a philosopher who filters truth from lies,
our building blocks, the seat of aetiology.
A thinker's thinker, one who ponders well
the implications of a life-long gleaning,
'composed of' and 'comprises,' just a single cell
in her journey to examine every meaning.
Though new expressions find their way to dictionaries,
they bastardize, dilute the power of language,
'snuck' instead of 'sneaked,' no real propensities
to offer something better, (tawdry verbiage!)
To communicate with skill, singular fluency
takes 'savoir faire,' a knack for etymology!
Seductively symetrical in form and presence
She calls it Eve, I call it sepia political
Aroused motherhood of nation, a glamorous sense
Of identity, modern and yet mystical
Naked as a morning, smooth as silk dreams
She looks back, not histantly, nor curiously
Profiled the hidden breast, in streams
Of provocativeness, the right hand assertively
Shouldered on the fallen curtain of hair
Lefting hand coming down where the stare
Of vulgar eyes would fall, stripped of history
But not of dignity, the umbilical memory
Cradlles a lascivious eye against the dark skin
Woman bounteous with beginnings, sister, kin.
Edna Manley
Eve (Ceremonial Dance)
Edna Manley (1900 – 1987) studied art at Central St. Martins School of Art in London
alongside fellow sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth. Her artistic career began by
sculpting clay models of animals but she made her reputation as a wood carver. During her
life she became known as the Mother of Jamaican Art, and claimed that it was in Jamaica
where she found both her subjects and materials. The sculpture 'Eve' (1929) was presented
to the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield by the artist herself in 1937. .
Sub Categories
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