"You are the poet, I am the poem," she said.
I love doing this life thing with you
Where you call me Sweetboy
Like it’s a place I belong,
And I call you Pretty Sally
Because the name carries my whole heart.
You love my freckles, the way I look at you
The quiet details I never noticed.
I love the sound of your voice, the way it stays with me
The way you can't see without your glasses
Yet somehow, you always see me,
And talk of your smile,
I love the sparkle of braces when joy catches you off guard
And the way you dress, effortlessly.
The little things that make you, you.
"You are just a girl who doesn't like wahala"
Guarding your peace while you walk.
Even in your high platform sandals,
You’re still short
But you're everything I look up to.
I love how close we are,
How love between us speaks without explaining itself.
And when I’m at my lowest,
When life empties my hands,
One call from you fills them back up.
You believe in me when I forget how.
You carry faith in us, in me, in tomorrow.
That’s why I love doing this life thing with you.
Not just the good days,
But all of it.
I Love You.
today it rained freckles
quite more than a few
I caught some in my hands
and threw them into stew
they were tasty and salty
and made me laugh and smile
I hope it rains again soon
freckles certainly do shake up and rile
The Moon’s heavy breath,
dusting my cheeks with laughter;
Freckles of magic.
gold nose ring, piercing
heart with friendly freckled spots
died by suicide
Afternoon, the sun is hot
Freckles and sun burns, I've got a lot
Reminding me of sunny days
I used to write under sun's rays
The memories on my skin
Of sunny places that I have been
Freckles and sun burns they play
The memories of my yesterday
Bass on conversation
a groovey thyme by all.
green leaves of summer
are the brown leaves of fall
This is worth mentioning
coring apples was boring
I was happiest at it's end
The crumbs and the edges
are the sweetest parts
the crispy flakey crust
we turned into tarts
smiles all around
as we taste
The sauce the sauce
the intro to the sauce
a creamy, almondie,Honey
triff.
Orange mid-October freckles blemish the trees,
while Jack Frost etches abstracts on cold window panes.
And cinnamon-colored leaves fall with each brisk breeze
as Winter subtly approaches, and Summer strains
to maintain green canopies till November's freeze.
The freckles that dapple my face
are more than beauty spots,
marks of where barbaric sun
has kissed me
and left a small dot.
When the hours of darkness arrive,
I look up at the freckled sky
and fall in love with the universe.
I wonder what if all the freckles
living on my body
were actually stars,
stars that are muddy imprints of galaxies
that our eyes refuse to focus on!
There were days
when I was young
and they used to loathe the stars on my cheeks,
resembling the night sky
in July.
I would smile and answer back,"when I was born
the gods painted my face with a map of constellations,
and who doesn’t love
looking at the starry sky?”
Now that I’m all grown up, all I know is
a face without freckles is like
a night sky without stars!
Author's note: I dug deep into my archives chest to retrieve this piece of utter nonsense, dear readers, because I thought it would make a good submission for April Fool's Day...
Freckles!
People who have freckles
Are sometimes people who eat pickles.
But pickles have bumps,
They don't have freckles.
Bumpy people are often fickle
And won't eat pickles without freckles.
A squash with speckles might be pickled,
But is no sub for freckled pickles,
Which is being pickle fickle.
If someone earned a nickel
For every pickle with a freckle,
He'd have to gorge on hordes of pickles
Just to make one lousy nickel.
Now I'm in a poetic pickle
And my brain is overworkin',
So freckled people don't be fickle,
Avoid the sun and eat a gherkin.
Autor's PS: This piece, as I recall, started out to be a parody of the song "People" from the musical "Funny Girl", but quickly took a very sharp left turn and turned out quite differently.
I wish I had freckles the eight-year-old said.
These are age spots, replied her great-grandmother.
Then I want them, the child replied. Because I like them.
Her parents were not surprised at her instant freckles.
Remember, the mommy said, “this was my grandma too.”
“And I have heard the stories,” said Daddy. “Now I believe.”
my skin is crazed with freckles
age spots we call them at my age
when I was ten they were unwelcome
popping up all over my nose and cheeks like daisies
too many to count now
with amazement I stare at my hands
remembering grandma
Nursery Rhyme
Children's Short story (Rhyme)
Little Ellie, loves her freckles
she counts them every night,
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
she traces them with her finger
before she rests her head
in the mirror, she lingers
dallying if the truth be said,
little Ellie, loves her freckles
she bathes them every night,
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
this night was like no other,
she froze in utter despair
screaming down to her mother
who came running up the stairs,
little Ellie, loves her freckles
she reads to them, every night
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
vanished had Ellie's freckles
She had washed them off again ~
still wanting to be 'Ellie Speckles'
she drew them back with a pen
With eyelashes fluttering, irises caught in a blink,
those windows of yours are opening and closing
like a metronome ticking time to symphonies played.
Within flesh are entrances cradling a floor to nowhere,
leading to a somewhere hidden to all but you. Pebbles
could be placed upon freckles to map out a path; bundles
of autumnal leaves, crunching and burnt amber, could form
steps upon the arch of your nose. Perhaps swimming against tears
upstream, leaping with rainbow salmon, I might reach the
precipice of your eyes. I could scale down branches bowing, from
fringe and eyebrows, lowering myself onto your golden lids.
Those doorways to nowhere, to somewhere, to anywhere, see
the future ebb and flow into a momentary present, with
visions hidden under a lock-and-key past. Those eyes of yours
I could dive into, like gravity plucking fruit from a vine.
Blackened Silhouettes Fill The Skies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blackened silhouettes fill the skies, freckles.
The setting sun blocked by bats, in millions!
Hairs on my dogs back stood up, his heckles.
The black silhouetted bats, amazing!
Bats' freckles, natures vaudevillians!
New lands tonight, instinctive trailblazing,
they know this night certain bugs fly, mating,
yes procreating in untold billions!
Moon, now up, bats fed, have babies waiting.
In how many caves, babe bats' in trillions!
Rhyme Time 4- 10 Lines Poetry Contest - Sponsored by Laura Loo
06/08/18
Frosty's squeeze was Freckles Snow
and Frosty thought her swell.
And often tried to take her out
despite his Freckles yell.
It wasn't that she thought him poor.
No! Freckles wouldn't care.
It's just that Freckles loved their home
and knew they were a pair.
For Freckles home was out of doors.
And Frosty would agree.
But Frosty thought she needed more
at times for feeling free.
They'd argue often taking turns,
though Frosty'd never win.
While Freckles held the only key
to taming Frosty's grin.
So now they spend their time at home
where nature serves them well.
and home is where the heart resides
with love it's only spell.
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