forbiding forever forbes to fly forward flawlessly foruitously
falsely fascinated by five fools following fleetingly frantic
flipflops fervently and furiously.
this year
mid-fall
feels like
mid-spring
in the
Deep South
highs in
eighties
breaking
records
shorts and
flipflops
still worn
daily
forecast
warning—
cold front’s
coming
that’s no
surprise
time to
find those
gloves and
jackets
toss those
wilting
mums and
pansies
mourn not
loss of
mid-fall
mildness
winter’s
coming
with her
wealth of
unique
beauties
Soon one and all will welcome the unique
Pleasantness of spring. Sun’s
Rays and showers will fulfill their
Intended purpose, engendering
New life in the earth as we say
Good-bye to winter’s last cold blast.
Indoor time will decrease as
Sounds of joy fill the air outside.
Closets will reflect the season--
Out with the overcoats, gloves,
Muted shades, and heavy shoes;
In with brighter, light-weight apparel.
Now, let’s unbox those shorts and flipflops.
Go ahead and stock up on grilling supplies.
Some of us have allergies.
Our eyes and noses will flow freely.
Our meds, we hope, will help. Achoo!
NEVERTHELESS, WE ALSO LOVE SPRING!
January 30, 2021
entered in Brian Strand's All Yours (Jan 29) contest
FLIPFLOPS
flicked a switch
then
f
l
i
p
p
e
d
and
f
l
o
p
p
e
d
into a new
downtown
lockdown
testing…
days of play
a surrender
bender leave
of absence
© Kim van Breda—11 October 2015
the waves are crashing
the sight is dashing
the sea so cold
the waves loud and bold
all the umbrellas casting shade
sand castles being made
my feet bare in the sand
the sunset is so grand
all the sand in my hair
flipflops below every chair
the breeze washes away every mistake
it feels so good with every breath I take
and in the dark
i see a little shark
As i eat an ice cream cone
I guess it's time to go home
From up here, far above
I’d hoped for a sense of her
running
fingers across stuttering eyelids of regret
gasping ribbons of breath, stuck lips to teeth of
bald tires on suicide turns . . .
short fingernails finding purchase
only
in Faith.
Her heart keeping time, marking mine
hardly disturbing enmity between smooth pebbles and
the texture of his words on her exposed
sensibility
as to the way of distant love . . . and
she sighs. as a perfect fit tightens
with the brighter light of
passing.time.
But from up here,
her feet followed . . . in worn out flipflops
the way of his endearments
ruffled skirt playing about pretty calves
as she
sang out-of-tune of a blue and windy day
in chill mountain clarity
But then
she looked up at me
wearing earrings from the sky . . . in colours
to match her eyes . . .
as
she
threw back her head
a.n.d.
laughed
Walk with me
don’t say a word
walk in these footprints
until you feel
my wobbly heartbeat
Flip flop tracks in the sand
I see yours ahead, nearly washed away
I am just a bit late
Hold my empty hand
these fingers that search for your face
in the mist of nightdreams
This fraying thread that joins
such a poignant catastrophe
glimmers and shivers
flickers and fades with anticipation
that possibly
someday may come
My needs are slight
your offerings less
Days become formless
nights without substance
. . . washing away.
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