My poetry may not be high-falutin,
but sometimes it is rootin tootin;
sometimes it it sweet and sad,
sometimes it is awful bad.
Just as beauty is in the eye...
a poem does not have to justify
itself to you or me,
it just simply has to be.
Dedicated to those of us who don't understand a beat of meter.
Planet in flux…it sucks
No refuge..Scrooge rules..
Stooges subterfuge deluge..
Fossil fuel fools..
Poleaxes..then relaxes…
As the earth burns..
As it turns..on its axis..
***************
Us schmucks battling....
Puzzling...prattling clucks...
Aloof to proof....daft defiance..
Shucks the sleuth of science..
**************
Glower at their ivory tower..
Cruise ship trip fillip..
Dour baby boomer power..
******
Absurd herd..cans compliance
Uncouth trampling truth..
Nip & tucks alliance..
Mottled rucks…throttled petro bucks...
Plucks for retro reliance..
*******
Muzzling…weasel hatchets meddling...
Diesel guzzling trucks..
Saluting high falutin polluting
Pander to propaganda pedaling..
Ratchets up our dander…
Open the ruddy window!
Have a bloody gander!
I lounge about, walk about, crocking
a hymn of praise or two.
Heaven, is heavenly,
or is it a fake and fanciful heaven
created
for fanciful and fake poets?
I sit by a sweetly flowing stream'
a host of gay vividly colorful flowers
speak to me
in the high-falutin language
of antique songs.
It is wonderfully wonderful,
yet I am bored,
bored with the supranormal
and the ethereal nature of nature,
bored with the endless beauty
of all that I encounter.
The loveliest woman I have ever seen
visits my moody meditations,
she tells me to write and to stop ing,
but I just cannot,
for I cannot pen the transcendental
or sublime, without mentioning the ugly,
and the dark history of suffering
and there is no dark suffering here,
not even a sniffle or a tear.
I am bored, not unhappy only bored,
and I want to go back
to my shatty life and write
about my misery and yours.
I figure heaven is not a location
but a state of mind,
and that my heaven in reality
is a place
where demons and angel's battle
for the right to fight on -
forever.
Hyperbole is a hi-falutin’ way of saying exaggeration
“All filled up” will work quite as well for saturation,
What’s the difference between edict and declaration?
Puppy love is merely another way of saying infatuation!
If you are aggravated, you are suffering from frustration
Sneaking in where you don’t belong is called infiltration,
Giving your full attention to a matter is concentration,
When you can’t get the point, you’ll feel exasperation.
“To be sweet on” can cause one to engage in flirtation
Which these days might lead to a legal confrontation
A sore spot might signal a dangerous inflammation
While a serious, extensive forest fire is a conflagration.
Best to confine yourself to the simplest explanation
Keep in mind that “lying about something” is prevarication,
It is always best not to indulge in an over-simplification,
When you are over-taxed, it means you need a vacation!
Written August 4, 2022
As the cost of gasoline we’re computin’
To Vladimir P. it’s been imputined
Whereas that’s a subject of much disputin’
I’ll leave the solution to the high-falutin’
Is free verse poetry or 'falutin name for prose,
In truth, perhaps, more saunter in the park?
A tawdry muse that's dressed in Sunday's store-bought clothes,
A mud locked boat aspires to be an ark,
An uncut diamond lacking heart or ring,
A song, perhaps, no troubadour can sing?
Not saying here that prose can never serve an end,
Not all (of value) shines the same as gold.
And time has proven lucky agate is a friend
If marble competition's all that's rolled,
If you've a thought (you'd like to live in time),
You'll never do much better than a rhyme.
Ten thousand monkeys taught to type (if they are game),
Might write this poem (should bananas hold),
But I would argue long and hard it's not the same,
Before the verse get's found, might Hell be cold?
Their output also steeped in monkey dew:
I'm not that keen on any verse! Are you?
Long Tooth
April 20, 2018
Hoity-Toity
La-Di-Da
existence desired
never able to obtain
the coveted lifestyle
high falutin pompous
arrogant attempts made
towards obtaining the
obscure illusive snooty
characteristics of the
desired social class
of the ritzy aristocract
sitting a top their thrown
looking down upon the lower
class of society
Poet took a high-falutin' leap of faith,
amidst a big swig of moonbeams
dabbling toes beyond starry galaxies
Milky Way spun in translations
Pluto still looked oddly perplexed,
Big Dipper gave a smart **** grimace
wondering what the hell was
going on 'neath the stratosphere
when human beings can't keep
their heads 'neath ambiguous clouds
feet firmly planted ground level,
delving lofty heaven's bliss
escaping the wrath of hell's fire,
aggrandizing endless poesy that
absorbs sparks of a universal desire
never phasing sun's obstinance,
but, if you believe in poetry
there's no telling where
boundless skies will surrender
...and the man in the moon tilted on his axis in a
backward's spiral and unabashedly winked
GENESIS
On the writhing shoreline’s shifting sand
The thrust of the immovable hard land
Under the foaming white wedding dress of the ocean
Resolves their differences, puts their destiny in motion.
In endless rhythm of sheer strife,
The soft all-pervading giver of life
Swells o’er the sure-faced surface of her mate,
To and fro, in and out, in a perfect fit.
She shapes the hardness of the land and he,
Massively strong, just as surely shapes the sea :
The end of one is the beginning of the other -
On the shoreline - this father and mother
Share the task, create and shape
Each bay and bight, each coast and cape.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sonnet written by Sydney Peck 23 January 2012 for Francine’s contest.
Theme : lasting love
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
*This idea for this poem was ”inspired by”
( hi-falutin language for “stolen from” )
Andrea D’s LAND-OCEAN haiku. Thank you A D.
The primacy of love is 'totalmente' undisputed,
An authority of orderliness in a tumultuous society,
A powerful dose to subdue war;
A conspicuous symptom of our world's malady.
Love 'originalism' is not 'paternalism' but an explicit form of 'maternalism',
It's not a brimborion expression nor a vacuous indoctrination,
It's not professions of some 'high-falutin' 'gran rabino',
But an absolute lifestyle of a dinkum person.
(c) 2011
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