Inside a library of things uncountable,
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets
gather words out of nothing.
Mind dust wafts.
A woman approaches with an armful
of my early, roughly cobbled poems.
behind her, unwritten books
begin to fall off bookless shelve.
“Don’t worry” she says,
she is Scottish and actually says:
“dinna fash yersel.”
An old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of everything
overcomes the moment.
She places the fragmented scribblings
in an untidy pile upon a small reading table.
The thought of a ‘reading table’
amuses me;
she smiles while the rest of her vanishes.
After reading all the table had to offer,
I leave the building empty-handed.
Outside, a mackerel sky
begins to rewrite some passing clouds,
Like myself,
it is constantly editing and revising
its reality
the way a bowl fish does
when it swims full circle.
Categories:
fash, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Inside an old library of things uncountable;
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets.
The air is musty, thickly clothed,
muffled and club fingered.
Incidentals are listed
on the cuff of the half-remembered.
Mind dust wafts from one place to another;
a library in pieces.
A young librarian approaches,
behind her, books are falling off shelves
like rotting fruit.
“Dinna fash yersel,” she says,
an old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of things pecks and probes.
Outside, volumes are opening.
I perceive a book in every object,
thousands of pages contained in every mote and atom.
The sky begins to write, both an old and new testament,
it is editing every word into the vast simplicity of
I Am.
Categories:
fash, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Inside an old library of things uncountable
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets.
‘things’
nothing can be
excluded
yes the air is musty, thickly clothed,
muffled and club fingered,
incidentals are listed
on the cuff of the half-remembered.
Mind dust wafts from one place to another.
Orts of loss, tittle, and trifles. A library
in pieces.
A fine looking woman approaches
she has an armful of books.
Maybe she works here
or maybe she works only
in this moment.
Behind her
things begin to fall off shelves.
“Don’t worry.”
She is Scottish and actually says
“dinna fash yersel.”
An old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of every-thing
pecks and probes.
She places more books
on the reading table.
The thought of a ‘reading table’
amuses.
Outside the library the world is simplifying.
A fresh sky begins to write
in a language only spoken of
in empty rooms.
It’s a braw uncluttered daylight
that greets awakening eyes.
Categories:
fash, poetry,
Form: Free verse
You offer me nothing
I think i will pass
Lets get rid of some words
Right lets start
with good and bad
wait all the hands are up both sides
F**k nope
what word would imitate
A guy with a dick on his head
kinda makes me chuckle
Next well i just used it
What about about
nope used it twice
I like dollop but i don't use it heaps
did you like that
remanded reminds me of reminded
Zoetrope old fash but i just love the shape
we probably won't need elephant soon
unless its to explain
come back God
get rid of your infallible mistake
Categories:
fash, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Alone she sits in a dark room;
No companion to converse with,
Feeling wretched..whimpers..
Flashed ~sudden a hobby:
Indeed her deep desired passion-
Holds pen and starts stitching poems.
25-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Note1: HEXASTITCH it poetry Contest
Theme:1-Flash
Title:Fash Insight
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Placed as Honorable Mention in the contest.
Note 2: BRIAN'S CHOICE 11,any form,any theme
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Categories:
fash, heartbroken, how i feel,
Form: Verse
looking into
the mirror
before you
i stand
tell me what
do you see
and be that
if truth
the mirror warped
as lips formed
saying to me
looking good
but look
at the time
you took to
look and ask
how well
you look
why did
you ask
that since that
question has
been asked
you have
been
confined
into the computer
to define all time that you'll
always
be fash
ionably
late
Categories:
fash, muse,
Form: I do not know?
She was breezy light-hearted
I perplexed she squeezed me;
Applause and genuflect
In a hush she came out of her veils
her tress was so sweet and brown nails
came into my dream.
I pretend to be steadfast though
heart jumpstarts fash in awe.
Percolating my heart
I took her in my home.
Days gone; now in mine loose bone
Ached much in sigh
alone.
She was my only one.
Categories:
fash, love,
Form: Narrative
She is just the height of fash.
Never could her clobber clash.
Whether dolled demure or dash,
Ever makes a splendid splash!
Categories:
beautiful, fashion,
Form: Rhyme
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My lungs are weak
My heart is too
I'm losing my vision
Everything fades
My life almost over
My debt is paid
I see my memories
Fash before me
My life has been fulfilled
I'm finally free
I whisper my last words
While slipping away
As my eyes close
I know it's my last day
Categories:
fash, depression, grief, hurt, lonely,
Form: I do not know?
Colored lights may hypnotize
and sparkle someone else's eyes
now, woman
your words
glitter like you've been drinking glitterade from devilish
dixie cups' alchemy secreting formulas outshining
phosphoric secretions from fireflies and other
coelacanthic creel creatures scantily clad depth diving
kaleidoscopic critters glitter glowing fash gnashing
ostentatious understated fatal attraction
ultra auric traffic controls
glow neon landing strips untorched
metal smith’s grinding wheel sparkles
oxyacetylene torch, arc weld, plasma cut fusion in reel time
explosions rearrange realities
globally glazing glitzandery fraught with
pyrotechnic anthems razzle dazzle
fireworked ooh aahs cymbalize
electroliscious ectoeroticisms
eeliospatial emprov
ellegitimately enhancing
new
tat
too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Nancy Jones and John Wulf, vice versa just as much
for netteski's contest on Glitter
Categories:
fash, life,
Form: Free verse