Felted Poems

Body of a Fallen Tree

within a pock, a lonely copse
a one-time proudly standing duke
lay collapsed a pearly corpse 
strewn, now stretched across a dyke
no mortar, stone or brick to budge
a single chain links an area  
no sleeves rolled blueprint for this bridge
it’s not as grand as Knaresborough
growing moss along its course
this felted dew-born viaduct
where mice, voles and squirrels cross
the span, the trickle of a brook
wind savage sword angrily killed the ogre
leaving a gnarled, lost and forgotten auger

Hip

How delicately you connect my whole physique,
The upper part and the lower half into one;
Leaving no organ to be unworkably weak,
Uniting the whole like the universe fine-spun...! 

Joining my legs and the trunk of my body well,
Fibers, tissues, nerves, bones, flesh, and blood together;
As a honeycomb combining each little cell,
You have bound the body like the wing and feather...!

Knit into, like thread in a loom or rods welded,
Two bones: the pelvis, and the thighbone or femur, 
Ilium, ischium, and pubis - well felted,
All beautifully set as though by a reamer...!

Like heaven and the Earth delicately unite,
O hip, you maintain my physique splendidly tight...!!!

Nonsense Poem

boisterous beekeeper was bathed, bound and belted.
besieged by bevy of beauties whose beeswax was melted.
fickle, frantic, frolicking friendly freedom, freshly felted.
persnickety, lickety-splickety personified, pointed and pelted.
On a sweaty, snarly summers eve swiggled, swayed and swelted.

Magpie Murder

Six magpies brought their mourning squawk,
soon joined by several others,
disturbing all their neighbour's talk 
and waking sleepy lovers.

Some hopped and did their swaggered strut 
between a felted flat roof top 
and a guttered water but. 
Some preferred a higher perch 
and troubled nearby taller tops of green leylandii.
 
All the while their squawk increased
and shattered suburb's morning peace.

Two black crows flew overhead and settled, 
one on gable top, the other found his place to stop 
and watch from nearby psychamore.
Upright, silent, silhouettes, 
not bearers of the magpie pall 
but undertaking nonetheless 
to show crow's dignified respects. 

They joined this congregation 
to recognise corvid's connect.
They joined this chorused agitation
while magpies mourned their murdered son, 
crumpled feathers low on grassy ground,
til course of squawk and strut had run,
and one by one they flew, without a sound, 
and all was done, and all was done.

Spare Change

The time for frost has not arrived, the morning sunlight’s dampened
by the chill of evening dew, the grass still grows though slowly now.

Within, chill copper pipes ping, once again breaking the silence of night.
The field mice come unwelcomed to their winter nests inside my walls.

Morning glories, mere days ago abundant now shiver in the shade.
Dropped seed must wait until the springtime’s sun to rise, to grow.

Clothes in closets all packed high, shelves to ceiling, must topple down.
Release the felted wool, the flannel bright, the knitted sweaters of Iona.

The pumpkins wait impatiently upon a field of green, crisped, vines.
Still connected to the prickling twine and fan like leaves, the blossoms fail.

And, I reflect within a picture perfect room, of what has been and what is.
The light of day’s a graying tone of mourning, whose length slowly fades away. 



First Published in Eunoia 4/6/14

Awash

The mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
releasing bits of themselves randomly 
sparkling, as they fall, in felted-light they bloom. 

Blasted cliffs, yet brazen, they rise without decree,
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,
releasing bits of themselves randomly. 

An ashen, sulking, sky hides the eagle's perch 
and softens all the jagged edges of the scene
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch.

A collage of layers blends all color in between
each angle decomposing in the rain,
and softens all the jagged edges of the scene.

Within the fog the distant mountain's strain
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green,
each angle decomposing in the rain.

A watercolor tableau where, unforeseen,
the mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
sparkling as they fall, in felted-light they bloom. 



1/4/15

Awash

The mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
releasing bits of themselves randomly 
sparkling as they fall in felted-light they bloom. 

Blasted cliffs, yet brazen, they rise without decree,
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,
releasing bits of themselves randomly. 

An ashen, sulking, sky hides the eagle's perch, 
and, softens all the jagged edges of the scene
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,

a collage of layers blends all color in between,
each angle decomposing in the rain.
And, softens all the jagged edges of the scene.

Within the fog the distant mountains strain,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
each angle decomposing in the rain.

A watercolor tableau where, unforeseen,
the mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
sparkling as they fall in felted-light they bloom. 





First Appeared in The Autumn Sound 10/13

Super Fly

From head to toe,
He could win any fashion show.
Confident in his stride,
Clean on the outside,
Crisp is how he keeps his clothes.
With felted hat fit to size,
Ladies can’t help but to upon him fix their eyes.
And the brothas, enviously and erroneously coping his gait,
He laughs at them as they perpetrate.
Too cool for a cane,
With long thick hair he walks as king, proud of his mane. 
Even his crockadile books match his pin-striped suits.
Style is clearly embedded in his roots.
Predating the culture of swagger,
This man here is my father. 

(In memory of my father, Donald O. Varner)

Sculpture

I LOOK IN THE MIRROR A SHADE OF DIFFERENT IMAGES I SEE OF ME. MY EYES BLOGGING FROM MY SIGHT. DISPEAR OF WHAT I SEE OF ME. STANDING THERE LIKE A SOLDIER WITH MY ARMS AT EASE BY MY SIDE. 

CHUMMING THROUGH MY HAIR WITH A BRITTLE BRUSH. MY HAIR SLOWLY FALLS AND FADES AWAY. I RUB THE BALDNESS OF MY HAIR FEELING NOTHING BUT, FREEZES FELTED BEHIND. I PANICKING GRAB A WIG HANGING OVER THE BEDROOM DOOR. PLACING THE ITCHGY STICKY DARK WIG ON MY HEAD. 

LOOKING SIDEWAYS PARAELLE AND HORIZONTAL FIGURING WHICH END LOOKS STRAIGHTER. FEELING DISGUISTED AND FRAUSTATED. I FLASHED A PHOTO PICTURE OF ME, SHOWING ONLY THE LINING OF THE WIG TREADS. 

STANDING THERE GLAZING AT ME THROUGH THIS SILHUETTE MIRROR. I POSED MYSELF AS MY OWN PAINTER OF A GHOUL OF MIDNIGHT. I REARRANGED THE WIG AND MYSELF WITH A JAGGED KNIFE. SHOWING ONLY THE SCULPTURE OF ME WITH NO HAIR.

Sundae Spice

Do you remember
the first time we met?
I do: it was on a warm
sundae afternoon.

There were gales
of mischief and glee
all around, each cradling
a clear plastic bag,

with a treat of tumbleweed
trying to escape the rim:
banana, toffee or
vanilla flavoured

cotton candy; or
were they woolly fibres -
similar to the strands that
intermingle in your felted hair?

How Can This Be

how can this be a lovely day
a smell that i wish will never fade away

a sun that comes each morning
a sun that doesnt go away

i never seen you before
 how can this be

hope.. hope
you did not past me

how can this be 

love...love
when have you came to be 

how can this be

a pretty smile from everyone i see
all wounds heal
even those that bleed

how can this be 

a heart  i  had that was never felted
ice has melted

tears.....tears you left me

how can this be

people heal
i did not belive

a smile
a weeping of joy
my eyes are clear

how can this be?

Shallow Unopened Grave

Shallow unopened grave 
Rotten earth
If opened a terrifying curse

Behold I discover 
A shallow open grave
Laid a dead man
With blood
Dripping from his brain 

He spoke
A breath first
Then he said
You fool
‘’A Curse Curse’’
Blood just drooled

I felted the same 
But I should be  scared

A dead man curse
I don’t believe 
If this is true 
A flow of blood would leave

This must be a dream

Eyes wont shut
 In the wilderness
has to feel around 

Floating my feet cant 
Touch the ground 

IF MY HEARTS BEATING IT DOESN’T  MAKE A SOUND 
MY CURSE IS OF MY  OWN

My Shallow unopened grave 
As repeated my hole life 
I have to write
It starts over tonight

Been a While

Been A While

since i seen the sun

Been A While

i felted human love

Been a while 

since i knew

been a while

i had a clue

been a while

i beileved my god..... had a plan for me

been a while

i ask for help

been a while

i felt 

been a while

i walked without fear

been a while

been a while...............................................................

Fairy Night, Morning Gold

~The Evil Fairy And the Vengeful Leprechaun~

Late at Night while the chickadees go quiver
A fairy of the forest has fastened to her heart
A bog-reed arrow, white wash dipped in flint
She dances yes she dances, in a conical red cap
Tithing the sundown, to a leprechauns demise;

Not a stranger to mischief, she steels his golden pot
She stitches up his wishes, and spikes his felted hat
She glues his silver buckles up his nose in, far remote
She sticks him on a clover, stewing mad n’ boiling hot

By; Mystic Rose

Early Morning, under the fogs rainbow, twisting and twisting his nose
Little does she know, Lepree's a madman with his own games
Sitting and brewing with a grin, he awaits the chemicals to kick in
A price to pay for stealing Lepree's gold, in such a golden way
He yells and cries, "I hope you dance, rapid like the river away!"

Fairies don't exist! Fairies don't exist! -----A quiver in the chest
For we all know when speaking them words, somewhere out there
A fairy dies, ----shillings from his silver tongue he spoke
A million times Lepree cried "Fairy don't exist!" suddenly--she drops;

By; Poet Destroyer


~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Was I Wrong?.....

Was i Wrong to tell you how i felt
and show you things you never felted.....
I must of been dumb to think that you would think the same
but i didn't know it would happen this way....
How crazy of me to think you could love me the way i wanted to love you?!
Was i really wrong...of course you been hurt
but i thought just like me you wouldn't stop....
How could i have thought without thinking????
Your scared and I've should of known 
Was i Wrong.....
Sorry for all this that had happen...very much i am..
I beg for forgiveness and I'll never do it again...
but.....um...soooo...i just wanted to know???
Was I wrong???

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