The refrigerator opened by itself tonight
Weird because I had closed it good and tight
Ketchup bottle fell out to dance along the floor
We watched, expecting a few escapees more
Maybe mustard and jelly would be along shortly
And that apple butter jar that was a bit portly
But nothing else flipped out or seemed at all wrong
The ketchup bottle began a tomato song
We were tomatoes, all round and red.
Loving our life in the garden bed
But we were taken out and crucified
Now we are ketchup, buried deep inside
Oh woe is us, this was a horrible fate.
You do not care; pouring us on a plate
A little respect for our death, you brute.
I said to my husband “that was kind of cute.”
In the hazy air, the camera drone
followed the stagnant river of traffic,
telegraphing images to control.
The thermals from the searing hot pavement
fighting with the machine’s languid progress
following a braising stream of escapees
from the oppressive summer city heat;
now, slowly cooking in their own tin cans.
Disappointment
I read about made people escape the crazy world.
The civilization we call modern life by hiding in a hidden little town in Laos
A place Where they can be irrational on their terms
Sleep when they want to and drink beers when they feel like it.
Eccentric" rich millionaires," in Norway flee to Swiss of all places
A state is so chemically clean of fun and clutter.
The people in Swiss are not impressed by these rich/ poor escapees
Who bitterly and grouchy talk about the high taxes.
The Norwegian's rich eccentricity is about wearing
a morning suit at breakfast
And learning Portuguese from their maids.
Misfits are in a land where no one points and says: Look, they are rich!
Owl eyes break as dimming light worms about,
Hollow clap surrenders a sparked ribboning,
Escapees breakout from their misty cells,
Wakes of earthen prints puddling,
Harbored ills bade sanctuary,
A glassy millpond beholds the begotten,
Abrupt warming tempts the absence,
Stirred tea sweetly idling,
An archer colorfully tools the realm,
Directives wondering,
Vibrant life answering,
A stranger to loneliness,
...I felt like being alive.
(the overhead railway in Berlin with a stop either side the Wall, one in the East, one the West, to be ridden with caution.)
I never took the S Bahn
you could end up on the other side
if you missed your stop and
unintentionally extended your ride.
There were so many stories
about the treatment you could get
when the train was searched
and you and the comrades met.
Every coach was checked
as they did their security round
with very little chance to sit quietly
and hope you wouldn’t be found.
The Stasi were the bogey men
the true inspirers of fear
always aware of the lure
of the west so enticingly near.
Escapees tried so many ways
lured by the call of democracy
ready to risk everything
for the chance of living free.
They said the beatings were severe
with not least the threatened hell
of unlimited hours confinement
in a dank and cheerless Stasi cell
and then the double jeopardy of
posted absent without leave
with the additions punishments
erring squaddies could receive.
No I never rode the S Bahn
that potential magnet to all
to try and sneak on board and
get to the Western side of the wall.
The close is a cul-de-sac, lots have dead-ended here.
It's relatively peaceful if you have no living relatives.
Plastic flamingos sometimes stray onto front yards
escapees from inflatable pools no doubt.
In-between the tornados it has a changeable climate
that can be most bracing.
To the left and right of us we have neighborhood watchers
who view us suspiciously through doorway peep-holes.
Every once in a while we get a letter from the city council
asking us to tone our life-style down, but not to worry,
we will be accelerating to a standstill any day now.
Gypsy Kaleidoscope
Mystic, mystical, magic gypsy
Spins a halcyon kaleidoscope on white horizon’s
Calypsos leaping in crystal canticles
Erases darkness of the neon midnight sun.
In polar solstice fireworks of ruby throated flaming vermilion
Solar windstorms paint an artic canvass in sapphire frost -
Electric mischief hums in flashing emerald rose
Like phosphorus disturbed excitement from a garnet star.
A razzle dazzle of cerise surges, bounding through carmine flashes,
In bewitching specks of lemon citrine bursts
Like transparent wings of dragonflies
Charged with joy to release diaphanous rose dust.
Uncatchable glitzy shards crystalline dart -
Icy silver gilded lilac bonfires sizzle
Coloring midwinter far north cobalt dreams
Gathered in fluorescent enchantment of captured opal fire.
Phoenix nomad on fiery wings, that never weary,
Basks in flashing flickers - escapees of the spectrum -
Sends a spiraling cinnabar kiss – dazzling topaz light -
For a magnetic midnight jubilee.
8-21-21
Contest: Kaleidoscope
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
On a grassy verge above the surging rill
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong
sprint to who knows where.
Date written; 23rd Of December 2020
Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022
Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15
Sponsor ; Mark Toney
A 26 line poem
The vagaries are flying today.
Those gossima-winged insubstantial escapees
related by birth to thoughts as yet unformed.
I sense them circling, see their flights
they glitter and dim as fireflies do.
To capture a few I must let go of them,
let them crash land in the mire of mind.
coated in just a little weight
that they might be seen and named,
coerced to speak
as if they belonged to this earth.
No escapees from this tornado
July and August so busy
Disheveled yards and faces
Trampolines blown over
Wind chimes blown to bits
Tearing things up
Ominous
Kansas
Wind
They cling, these city dwellers,
to crannied city walls
dusted with the exhaled indifference
of a blindly passing world.
Gasping in the fetid urban exhale
longing for the touch of errant bee.
Escapees of discarded flower pots
surviving on sporadic a/c drips
stretch to catch a glimpse of sunrise.
Rooted in their dreams of being free.
2/18/2020
My neighbour
wondered where all the birds were going to
"to my yard,"
I replied
the Cockatoos for the green almonds
Blackbirds and Mynas for ground cover insects
Crows bark-scavenging for borers and tree worms
Honeyeaters fighting all comers for flowering red gums pollen
Pigeons fossicking the soil minding their own business
to finish giant Fruit Bats
some say escapees from a botanical gardens cull
add a creepy aura at night.
When leaks my pen of flowing ink
I quickly staunch the flood
by blotting with my fingertip
the pool of chromatic drip
Escapees while my mind took flight
wandering across the sky
writing in script of a damsel's plight
until the globules caught my eye
Often, I've stopped writing to think....
there lies drops of my poem's blood
Swirls and whirls of rhyme and phrase
captured with the stab of a finger
Words trapped inside a maze
where my poetic thoughts must linger
a miniature portrait of my write
a tattoo in black on parchment of white
Standing silent,stark and black
Its eyeless sockets staring emptily
Over the London skyline
The fiery tomb of so many
Devastated,distraught and dead
Homes that became Hell
Flames roaring hungrily upwards
To devour figures silhouetted at windows
Their outlines sharply etched
In the minds of helpless onlookers
Their screams to re-echo in their tortured nightmares
While the billowing black smoke choked
Those who heeded the fatal advice
To stay indoors.
Tongues of flame licked greedily at the doors
Seeking whom they would devour
Sirens wailed as did escapees and onlookers
In grief and frustration
Battling against the searing heat
Selflessly entering this torch of a tower
To drag to safety those they could
Putting their own lives on the line
The firemen battled on
Until they could do no more
And now the shell is silent as the tomb
The inferno sated and finally suppressed
Anger now flares up to identify
Those who left the community
Defenceless
Against this avoidable tragedy
It was inevitable that the building's shortcomings
Would claim its quota of victims
To the shame of those who should
Have known better and were forewarned.
The contents of a sandwich often plot to escape. Particularly lettuces. Their leaves when chopped can climb well out of bread. So it is always wise therefore to use an adhesives such as mayonnaise to practically glue the contents to the bread. Thus ensuring no escapees. The ham slices always go to sleep though but chicken pieces can fly so shut the bread together very quickly. It is not to say if a jam will run with the butter. It depends upon the flavour. Strawberry jam is far more hesitant than a blue berry preserve so please be careful when making such a jam as more than three blueberries per square inch of pan could cause interruptions for the bread and the butter. Ingredients interrupting intentionally ignoring ignitions. And a circular piece of bread is easier for the contents to escape than a little square slice. So be careful when preparing sandwiches. Now it is time to commute. Goodbye. And good luck too. Have a lovely day. And carry the carton not the umbrella in case of the odd shower. Ha x z colonialism at thirty seven loaves to seven pieces of diced cucumber with tomatoes. Z
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