Flossy Poems

The Coastguard

Above the choppy,
viewed from
behind the glassy
winded and floppy.
He observes the flossy 
dark black rolling 
white and frothy.
Salt filtered manes blown 
acrossy limpits rocky 
trapping olde anchors rusty
amongst filleted fishy

Dangling Dandelion Muse

Dandelion puff clouds
tickle the air with their flossy flights.
Other weeds cannot fly
they are deeply rooted, their seeds
flop low.
Landscapers grind the ground grimly,
mowers grapple and growl
but the low gravity and the fluffy,
the wind-walking dandelions
sneeze up their fuzziness
and care not
as they ride the sky, their
high-flown wispy pedigrees
waving goodbye.

Circle of Love and Self-Regard

CIRLCLE OF LOVE AND SELF-REGARD:

Here's now a real prevised time...
Some people only get you grimed,
Since you don't disclose your plans,
For them to know what's on your mind.
Even if you accept to at least opine,
You sagely do that through a mime.
And they see it as a very wicked blow,
That you opt and unpredictably throw.
Which makes them grow insanely cold.
Hence, they unwisely become your foes,
Who always try to kill your beautiful soul,
As they unnecessarily stand to oppose.

But they don't get to know your goals,
That you've kept in a well covered bowl.
Truly, as you work manificently to grow,
They assume you to be acting saucy,
Though you don't stay by being flossy.
Yet, whenever you decide to speak,
You're being tagged as a rebel on heat.
So it's good you've been able to decide,
To intelligently move in the best line.
With regard to your mind and heart,
By holding yourself deeply with trust,
In the circle of love and self-regard.

Daffodils

Dear lilies,
your bulb that spring up
are memories of hope and bliss
from flora in solitude.
(A prisoner acquit from confinement)

You rove lonely like the evening Moon
for two lover lurking privily at dark;
it is wonder you unclothe them
where bulbs of you are rooted.

Your varieties, I heard, are flossy 
call it a “Rip of van winkle”
with many daisies taking it stands
to flourish in all spring.

The moment I realised how charming
you gloss the month of march
my fingers began sliding into extolment
caressing the faces of your rich flush
that blooms through the venetian sumac.

The Fule Lord

The follies of fools 
The lord of fools 
The fools that are lords
a leader of the damned 
Insane the minority of minions 
Deplorable and disdained 
Blind in the sight of kings and lords
Jester’s of old orange baboons
In golden flossy glossy wigs
Fleeting hair a top fule lords fake façade
In a flock of tweets and Nitwits
Someone said the one eye 
man is lord of the blind in the land 
of the blind this fool is king
Dressed in nothing but a red tie 
& golden fly away sad toupee
The follies of fools a leader 
of the damned doomed
And unschooled the folly of fools 
the fule lord of one supreme leader to some 
Blind in the sight of kings and lords
Burning Republics building empires, 
finding legions of cults 
a Cult of personality bleeding, pleading
Scheming at the doors of a CLOSED kingdom
tearing apart the fabric of a nation
For the keys to dominion 
Someone once said the one eye man 
is lord of the blind in the land 
of the blind has a fool for a king
Dressed in nothing but Ignorance. 
In golden flossy glossy wigs
Fleeting hair top fule lords FRACTURED façade…

















Dic: fule (dialectal, chiefly Scotland) fool

Don'T Nobody Do Ya, Like Family

I am the stepfather
in a family of grown children.
Where they like to remove 
the word (step) from my title.
But neither do they call me 
Dad, Daddy or father. 

I am called by my nickname.
I don’t get the pleasure 
of being called grandpa 
as often as I would like
by the new toddlers.

My new daughters
D. D. as in darling daughter.
Painfully beautiful,
Dark & lovely,
and Babyphat.
Are four of the loveliest 
Women on God’s green earth.
I married their Mother.
The beautiful and logical
Love of my life.
My five feet of paradise.
She is a great cook,
She calls her mother F.J. 
Flossy Jay is forever 
my favorite mother-in-law.

Tabitha’s lovely sister is a very 
Powerful pure black woman.
Who go’s by the name Babysis.
She one day will make 
a lucky man very happy.
as a 50+ year old woman 
Who has not known a man.

They say opposites attract
and we come together 
on things we have in common.
D.D. my wife’s first born 
is not speaking to her.
And I have a son
the baby of my brewed
who is not speaking to me.
My wife and I are okay with it 
Because don’t nobody do ya
Like family.

Ataraxis

in quietness of placid dream
cloak of darkness on hidden scars
slowly glows a sequestered stream  

slowly departs from deserted streets 
a moon in vista of soft warm light 
as dewdrops blossom in tender tweets 

music of heartbeats in faint skyline 
light redeems slowly from another world
in flossy collage, calm colors entwine 

a canvas splashes ambrosia of pink 
purple and lilac in a golden ataraxis
sound and silence in perfect sync

morning stars hang up in a pallid yawn
light pulses slowly, meld in pastel dawn 
yet another new day, waiting to be born. 


Dated 19th February 2020

Sponsor	Edward Ibeh
Contest Name	Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 - Tristich

If I Weren'T Afraid

If I weren't afraid, I'd break out of my castle
out of my gilded throne, out of my head tiara.
I'd break out of marble floors and tiled walls
out of this cold linoleum of grand opulence. 
Breaking out of embroidered blue flowers.
Breaking out of crappy  fluttering voices. 
Into that open field  of cherry blossoms 
Into those flossy clouds of chattering birds.
Into misty mountains of icy north winds
Into  stormy seas where gallant waves rush.
Into cooled sands wet in delightful soft kiss.     
Into solace of graffiti, a rock in love's bliss. 


Baby bats within caves of hidden treasure 
No longer afraid to lose all unknown.  
No longer afraid of what might happen.
No longer afraid of what world will say. 
No longer afraid of starlights in sky.
No longer afraid of freedom, 
No longer afraid to live... 
No longer afraid to die.




Dated 10th September 2019
Sponsor	Line Gauthier
Contest Name	IF I WEREN'T AFRAID

Dance On the Margin

Hold out arms, hands and fingertips,
spread shoulders…shake loose.
If you’re not clouded by flesh
you’ll feel it - your verge shifts, 
sometimes an inch, 
sometimes a million miles.
A bright brim begins to look at the stars 
as if they were your own eyes looking back.

You might even shoot inward 
into your own glitzy center.
Maybe Her tulle skirt,
and sparkly, silver, magnetic panties
will draw you into Her cosmic Ferris wheel.
All this is just over the tip of a reach, the brink
of a fingernail, where you ride the milky cosmos
seeding worlds with the art of your mind.

Let yourself border on the fringe,
the hem, the flossy slip of Her short sassy skirt -
shimmy a while.

Elderly men have been known 
to dance a step or two right there
at the glitter-edge of life,
as they fall for the same girl.
again, and again.

No Such Thing, As Bling, In Heaven

She's  Flossy,

Champagne Taste With Beer Money,

She's Bossy,

Takes What She Wants,

All You Have Sonny,

Hold Your Peace,

And Let The Lord Fight It,

Because In Heaven,

Bling, 

Don't Mean A Thing,

Honey.

She's Abusive and That's Conclusive

There was a fussy bovine named Flossy
who was snooty and always so bossy
her udders would droop
when she took a poop
She bellowed until her eyes got glossy

Flossy had teeth like a barracuda
Her biting habit just made her ruder
She's not very sharp
She spit when she'd harp
So I called a few friends and we shewed her

Then she threatened to have me arrested
Thought she'd beaten me and had me bested
Knocked her on her duff
She wasn't so tough
Alas, she kept right on and protested

I saw her on the street the other day
Her monstrous butt sat on a bale of hay
Stuck her tongue at me
Mooed, "Hello, ducky"
She trotted off when I aimed pepper spray

What a chunky hippo she has become
I think Flossy secretly sucks her thumb
Waddles when walking
Ranting and squawking
To senility, Flossy has succumb

Bovine creatures can be quite abusive
When they should be a closet reclusive
The more that they speak
The more that they reek
My findings are all justly conclusive

L,F,S

Lazy Flossy Squirrel.

Shove up, shove up come on move on
it's very cramped and nothings done.
Summers over and the cold winds blow
I feel it's cold enough for snow.
So shove up move on, or help me please
restock our food inside these trees.
Get them ready with berries and nuts
no if's or why's not even but's.
You'll want a feed before you sleep
so bring your share and bury them deep.
Shove up move on that's what I say
I've been fetching nuts all day.

I've had enough Squirrel Flossy
it's because of you that I am bossy.
Squirrel Flossy I had to shout
If you don't like it then please move out.
I have no time for one so rude
we need to store our home with food.
Cause when the snow falls and it's really cold
you'd wished you'd listened and done as you're told.
But hey ho if I'm bossy Miss Flossy and what do I know
Remember when you're hungry who it was
that warned you so!

Permutations of Logic

Permutations Of Logic

The     truth   was     concealed    with   many   branches 
hidden  through  flossy  blossoms   unknown roots  to be 
found  holding   swings  charms  and  roundabouts  from 
one  single acorn  to  coax oak and  seedlings once more

Hiding   hidden going   gone   oblivious    and   obviously 
sprouting gently  again from unexpected twiglets’  bright
side   of the sun  dark side  of the moon  meta-morphing
the  bigger  picture  of  life  offshoots  veiled  in  mystery

Some  branches  and  ramifications  were torn  crumbled 
withered like an epitaph of that epic  journey from womb 
to tomb  a foreplay to  afterthoughts hindsight glistening
light  playing  shadows  where  candid  veracity  prevails

The   branches   were    concealed    with   many   truths
hidden through  perceptions un-ventured  thoughts to be
exposed  containing  swings  and  roundabouts from one
singular  premise to  conclusion and take off  once  more

Camouflage Me A Poem contest  -  Theme used: 
The  Truth  Was Concealed With Many Branches
08th August 2016

Drip Drop

Blown with the wind, came I
With Orion, screened from the sight;
Yet with the constellation sighted 
In the glass of life.

By my window, the rowdy wind 
Picks up the pace and funnels the air
In turbid haste.

I, the eye of the storm, saddled
On the morning maze,
Pricked up and pinched with the chill of your gust.

Drip drop, dripping, clinking,clanking
Life's fluid vibe beguiles the 'witches cauldron'
The ominous count of moisture of life
Fizzing up and flowing straight
To the Bay I look 
From my window-pane.

The wind would pick and the wind would fall
The train of flossy images hangs over Bay of Bengal.

Down On the Farm

I once nodded off and found myself on a farm,
I was met by a horse who said I’d come to no harm

His name was George, he was tall and ‘jet black’
and he knelt down right gentle as I climbed on to his back

As we strode through the yard there came a small cry,
it was  a piglet named; Norman who’d got mud in his eye

Mother hen clucked and her little chicks scampered,
flossy the kitten just wants to be pampered

In through the gate there came a lot of sheep
and a collie dog called Jimmy, behind them did creep

Mildred the cow lay down for a rest,
and the flies thought her ear would make a good nest

Billy the goat looked nervous as he went for a stroll,
George and I both wondered if he was in fear of a troll

As we crossed over the bridge down by the stream,
there came a loud bang as I fell of my bed, 
and there ended my dream.

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