I sing
Darling
Sweet note
I wrote
Organ
Such fun
Octaves
My faves
To play
All day
Loves art
Sweetheart
I choose
Bold hues
I draw
With glow
Hobbies
Bring peace
I'm more watery than women
under the skin
altho' my body's composed
of 6 chemical elements within
and all that remains
to go with the flow
is approx. 60% H2O
and the gravity of the situation maintains
if I stand
on my head or hands
or do cartwheels
(head under heels)
(tho' I prob'ly shouldn't oughta)
on the cranium I'll have water
(hydrocephalus)
then again who knows
how else would I experience
some of those
cerebrum faves
alpha beta delta theta
brain-storming waves
All aboard the bizarre Farage barge..
Unless of course you are from abroad..
.
Narcissist catalyst.. old school fraud..discord twist..
Can't resist.. staging the raging red mist..
Fist of Mob rule tryst does persist..
Depraved raves..insist..craved faves..
Won't save slaves & knaves..
Hellbent they are sent..
To graves under the waves…
Foolish votes for ghoulish gloats..
Seedier media leaders lying..
Defying the dying..
Folks crying..ghastly ghostly boats..
Crude jokes delude..lewd masterstrokes denude..
Corporate rascal castle debacle floats..
On dank murky murderous moats..
Scuffles.. muffles ruffles & kerfuffles
Pokes & provokes just for bank notes..
The ubiquity of inequity
This poem or tome..
Every face…race should be.
Free to roam..
In this place..
We all call home..
She developed a keen appreciation
For hotdogs, revered in the nation
Eaten during July 4th celebration
Fried chicken a close second of her faves
Eaten during veterans’ day near the graves
Of Civil War masters, who used to have slaves
What about ham, does Dolly eat ham too?
While working on guest list overdue
Madison might give you a clue
She will go down in history
Resourceful as a large oak tree
Of her talents we must agree
Giving her praise and acclaim
Hostess with the mostess was her aim
Dolly Madison is her name
I wrote a poem when I was nine
The teacher said it wasn’t mine
She said I stole it from a book
She said I was a lying crook
I cried, I pleaded, it is mine
She said “it’s not, you’re only nine”
The other children laughed at me
I almost gave up on poetry
But no, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t quit
I’d show her she was full of it
I’d write of sun’s, and rains, and squalls
Of winters, summers, springs and falls
I’d write until the readers wept
I’d write while other writers slept
I’d write in rhyme and verses blank
And someday I’d go back and thank
That pencil stub, that yellowed page
For I now write in my old age
Of life’s forever breaking waves
Of life’s N/A’s and treasured FAVES
These little swiss cake
Are simply sublime.
I like them glazed.
And eat some at night.
They are my faves.
A pastry delight.
So, I weighed one eighty.
And lately passed two oh-five.
Though I'm mostly bloated.
By hydrogenous sweet lime.
Before the Day Turned Into Night 1-21-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before the Day Turned Into Nigh - ITQ
Through veils of rose twilight dances
Wink, a smile, coquettish glances
Flirts with the stars, the moon, perchance,
Promise for dusky romances.
She wears sheer hues that silhouette
The shapely shades of dusk’s coquette
Amber tease in fuchsia ballettes
Light and shadows in dusk’s duets.
This playful minx just can’t behave
Teases nightfall with siren’s faves,
Golden tones split the airy waves,
Night encouraged to misbehave.
Before the day turned into night
A coral kiss turns off the lights.
Some spider webs in our house
Are permanent installations
That have been up there so long
I’ve named them constellations
The largest is Webus Major
Made by a little nipper
That crawls around all day long
On what I call the silk dipper
One of my faves has got to be
The Arachnadromeda shape
And it may be the oldest
Above on the ceiling scape
Speaking of the oldest, there’s been
In the corner for an eon
Full of wings and fly gut things
The great Gossamer Orion
I’ve tried to show some of my friends
My constellations in training
And two guys, to my surprise
After drinking, took turns naming
My wife’s no fan of cobweb ‘stars’
Lately, I can barely trust her
Like when she asks for a ladder
While toting her new dust buster
menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems /
broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm /
cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl /
chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /
Like petals in my pocket
Or precious pictures in a locket
Are the poems of this sweet group
In my faves on Poetry Soup
~ <3 ~
My son got a gift from his buddy,
A book which is sure to get raves.
He was thrilled ‘cause he knew
That the lead of U2
Was the author and one of his faves.
But the best part was quite unexpected –
An autograph written inside,
With no question in mind
Of the fact it was signed
By the writer – it was Bono-fide!
*thanks to my husband for the punchline
The natives are restless
They’re storming the gates
The jury is back:
All wretched ingrates!
The votes have been cast,
The dice have been thrown.
The calculus broken,
They’re starting to moan.
Incredulous, wakening,
They realize they’re slaves
Not to their own brilliance
But each other’s faves.
The rising and falling:
They share the same lot.
All in this together,
Declaring what’s hot.
That Heisenberg dude,
Man, he’s such a jerk
The more he looks closely
The less things just work.
It should be organic
Cream floats to the top
But so does Jan’s poo
When the toilet is stopped.
Encourage each other;
I don’t mind critique.
Thank God we’re all different,
Our perspectives unique.
I love to tell stories,
And talk about God,
Juxtapose, be ironic,
And be generally odd.
I find I’m quite dense
On the things that you write;
No worries, my C-PAP
Keeps me up at night.
But I’d best tie this off
As fast as I can
Or it’s tl;dr
From a cranky old man!
Of simple pleasures
that I love the most
Topping the list
Tea and toast
It never fails to satisfy
In fact it hits the spot
I never scream for ice cream
It's seared bread and an Earl grey hot
Late at night or crack of dawn
all else except bacon makes me yawn
Now that's a trifecta I can get behind
Tea,toast,and bacon fully alligned
With temps and the humidity
No longer off the chart,
We made a visit to the Met*
Since we’ve been starved for art.
A Winslow Homer show would soon
Be packing up and so,
It seemed to be the perfect time
For us to up and go.
The hordes had not arrived yet,
Thus the galleries allowed
Us time for a relaxing look
Without a pushy crowd.
Before we left, we stopped to see
Our faves – Cezanne, Monet,
Van Gogh and several others,
Making it a lovely day.
Although the Covid variant
Is here and on the move,
It’s time for us, museum-wide,
To get back in the groove.
*Metropolitan Museum of Art
most are unusual some mundane ~ one logs in mostly to complain
most are encompassing some refrain ~ one writes rebukes sounding insane
most are sophisticated some quite plain ~ one adds nothing just distain
most are original some entertain ~ one seeds hatred, sounds in pain
most are orthodox some arcane ~ one solipsist rules their lone domain
most like contests some avoid fame ~ one says they’re meaninglessly inane
most are devout some go against the grain ~ one or two faves, all a game
By David Kavanagh
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