Marvelous ancient music box,
prim guitarist on pointe shoes rocks;
A misfit figurine
not concerned how she’s seen;
Her erratic tempo is not Bach’s.
She worth weight in gold
So beautiful and charming
Someone find her sold.
hers
once
mine
the hour
glass of
the sands
of time
mine
fell
from top
to heavy
bottom
hers
still
young
s l o w
l y sift
biding
time
each
glass
a decade
mine four
times turned
over
while
she is
only
twice
over with
a twist
of a wrist
meaning
half
but i
find my
three
times
turned
over
is like
a sand
storm
where
i'm more
then blinded
by her eyes
oh so youth
ful filling
sand dunes
dooming me
swallowing
following
falling
down
with the
sands of
time
Found A Black Figurine
Found a familiar figurine
Which was black and not green
And to me it meant so much
Full of feeling in its each touch.
Like hearts and things often do
Black figurine was broken into
And on floor all the pieces laid;
One for each memory it made.
So things are still not the same;
Who should receive the blame;
Did not place on mantel properly
Only person I should blame is me.
That was a truly emotional story
she told about the black figurine
at our Poetry Revisited get together.
Jim Horn
It is my birthday, the cake is so fine
Covered in icing with candles of nine
I have on my hat the paper kind
I close my eyes and search my mind
What can I wish for, what do i want
This to me is a special moment.
Is it wealth or material things
Or a host of Angels with wings
A new puppy maybe, now that idea is great
But my Mam says for that I must wait
Is it happiness for all, yes I wish that
But thats not good enough, nor is a cat
I know what I will wish for its something new
My wish is " May Your Every Wish Come True"
So now as I blow out my candles 1,2,3,4
Thats half the wish accounted for
5,6,7,8,9 out of puff now
Thats all of them out soooo
Lets enjoy the cake, thats my first wish to you
Hope the things you wish for follow through
I saw an ogling eye whispering at me
We were at the anthill of a dried a night
Like a duck in a thunderstorm
I drawled before her wet lips
She inserted her passion into my clay, dangling my balls
I became a saint-sinner singing in the euphoria of her nipples
I am an innocent globetrotter who throttle in the winds and whims of her imaginations
Now am sucked and soaked at the sea of life
High and dry because I fell head-long to her waist
Chewing the cuds of delusions
Being at the cross purpose with my very being
A glance of her beauty is out of question
Last night, I saw grass growing under her thigh
In a twinkling, my pipe was like that of the Ethiopian Eunuch
Well, her red lips fell of the mountain
Blowing out the heat and the gush from the Nile
Confining my element with her red clay
Oceans of rumbling and tumbling escaping
Emotions mixed in motions, tongue erupting
With her powdery milk she dissected my Jupiter
I became half gone, in a half day
But her lull resuscitated me
Guess who she is?
She is Figurine.
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