Title 1
"The forest is my loyal friend A Delphic shrine to me." ... by Ralph Waldo Emerson
The written word bears roots abound
Hail favored mist of hallowed ground
Announced breathtaking full-filled air
Spreads out enjoyment summons fair
Forgiving trailed Earth's crowning Star
Forest startup's reserves stretched far
Healthy hoards and wholesome intakes
Fresh novel minds elsewhere, retakes
Obsessed consumed florists stationed
Lives styled out stretched reawakened
Seedlings advanced Heavens promised
Groundbreaking achievements calmest
Cob-web silk thread eight-legged shooters
Tethered roots edged equaled footers
Floods 'neath grounds raise the gigantic
Psalmist summoned lessened frantic
Misplacements sequenced adjustments
Cause coursed through major monuments
Misfortune causeway lengthens aches
Stressed strung-out unmeasured outtakes
Commons traversed rights owned presence
Neighbors challenged core quintessence
Claimed righteousness labors bear fruits
Attributes are well-served ... grassroots.
The Taj Mahal will one day fall,
They’ll build and tear down three more malls,
But one thing here when Jesus calls:
My wife’s new potting shed.
The concrete footers all are poured.
There’s even concrete for the floor.
The anchor bolts required more
For her new potting shed.
The surface bond cement’s applied;
I’ve got red patches on my hide.
It’s looking good, I must confide
(My wife’s new potting shed).
The roof will be brown standing seam
To match with our green acre theme.
Duality: nightmare and dream
Our little potting shed.
And if, by chance, tornadoes come,
We’ll head there quickly, in a run
And wait it out until they’re done
In our new potting shed.
And when I’m done from all my toil,
She’ll have a place to mix her soil.
If we kept records, we’d recoil
At her new potting shed.
The onset of construction
Left a gaping excavation.
They built a chain link fence
Around the hole.
Once the footers and foundation
Were sufficiently established
A dump truck load of gravel
Did its thing.
I have faith the task
Will be accomplished.
I have hope the work
Can be efficiently done.
But until I shovel
All that broken stone
Into the trench surrounding the slab,
This jobsite won’t be up to building code.
Of the virtues,
Faith, hope, and charity,
The only one that requires
Personal action
And accomplishes anything
In this world is charity.
Faith and hope are mere freeloaders
That only look after themselves.
Who could imagine
how many guys can be shy
Handsome six-footers in
knots, their tongues tied
They see a pretty girl and
go all wobbly in the knees
Their palms clammy with sweat
their brains in deep freeze
Yet it's true, sure as the earth
is round and not flat ~
That butterflies flutter
in the coolest of cats
So precious are wee trick or treaters,
much-loved by us generous greeters.
With sacks overflowing
and bright faces glowing,
they are grateful, sweet candy-eaters.
Then droves of six-footers come brawling
For buckets of candy they're calling.
In fake kiddie voices,
they make clear the choices:
I treat or they'll trick. So appalling!
"No treat" starts the six-footers scheming.
Those ghosties and ghoulies start screaming.
My pumpkins they're smashing.
Through fences they're crashing.
By midnight the Charmin is streaming.
October 14, 2018
Ten words ten lines 2-Big Surf Competition
After a long ennui of big wave competitions
surfers take to Oahu's North Shore "to go for baroque."
For these bonafide big wave riders hanging ten
is party time, cake frosted with elan and deju vu.
Waves peaking it's face into the eyes of the brave,
with carte blanche of fifty footers, part of the sugar.
All eye candy are on the Hawaiians, lipping alley-opps on the curls,
showcasing avante-garde to the diletttante's and spectators.
As waves keep pounding the shore to the cacophony of applause,
to tats, tongs and tans, big wave riders take to this anomaly waving.
Anomaly
Avant-garde
Baroque
Bona fide
Cacophony
Carte blanche
Deja vu
Dilettante
Elan
Ennui
connie pachecho
1/20/18
They do create,
Shoes and boots,
Also,bare foot!
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