Frizzle Poems

An Abandoned Rural Station

A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long-truncated railroad stop
humming still with a faded reality.

As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.

Caps, coats, and carts
Sweat, rustle and creak,
an invisible locomotion of leaving and arrival.
employed upon an iron labor.

The tall dry weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle
as they wait here or idle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its innards now
are a nest for ticking birds.

Dandelions anticipate twirling flight
under a corn fed sun.
A mid-day heat thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive

as if its bygone world
had not forever disembarked.

Meduvada

Mix black lentil batter 
Must add salt and spices
Make holed rings, put in oil
Meduvadas frizzle
Mouthwatering, fluffy
Melts in mouth, soft, crispy
My most favorite snack

Maude and Me

he might have been a felon, a freak, a frizzle wiper or a fraud.
we did not know him actually said speaker, young judgmental Maude.
he had a look about him that made me clutch my purse.
she assesses strangers quickly, treating people mean and worse.

he might have been an angel, a do-gooder, a friend, a partner, I say.
trying to uplift judgmental Maude’s mind a teensy tiny bit today.
he might have been sent by God to test you, to see how kind you are.
she gave me an eye-roll and talked about his eye patch and his scar.

Jesus might have had an eye patch and a scar, I told her then.
but the scar was an upside down cross, right across his chin.
is could have been a test I argue. Maybe you should have said hello.
She sniffed her disagreement saying “he was a disgustingly old fellow.”

Maude and I are not friends by accident or choice, but by proximity.
live next door to each other, but we have nothing on which we can agree.
her perspective is flat-out negative, because her ideas are so fringed.
I cannot hear her opinions long before my peace of mind is tinged.

Scottish Phrases I Love

me.....rigid (surprised)
Get tae  (your bothering me go away)
Naw mate it Chips no ing fries (we call them chips)
wit r u gawking it mate (yes can i help you)
Suffering  (yeah life i give in)
Tap us a *** (slang for cigarette) could i get a cigarette

the next bits a brain frizzle
if Pokémon had diarrhea would they call it the squirtles?
I'm going back to the sound only i can hear
the voice behind the curtain
that sees wherever i stare

Bird Watching

She looks through the lens,
a Baltimore Oriole
had just flared into orange sherbet,
but now there was her wide-eyed grin
filling every space left over.

Once as a young man, I dated
a sweet girl. 
I called her my ‘yellow ducky’
but even her comical loveliness
had only filled my arms and private parts,
but my head remained stuffed full
of a teenage kapok.

Watching golden eagles,
my long lens growing heavy
as I scan the sky for the false gold
in their plumage.
We used to call females ‘chic’s.’
As a kid, I had to wear
huge, round, corrective glasses
I was known as ‘owl’ boy.

The Baltimore Oriel is back,
it alights on a branch just above you,
blooming again in a frizzle of colors;
you are unaware and keep smiling 
into the camera.
My head is a fizz of euphoria.
I bless Baltimore, for being
that golden city in the clouds
that I always thought it was.

A Summer Askance

Razzle dazzle us with honey suckle flowers sweet sweet summer 
and bring us  butterflies of spring, on your shiny golden hummer  
Let the golden sun kiss the earth and let the wild birds fly  along 
the beach, as we sandal up and walk the shore with happy song  

Dizzle  drazzel the ruby roses as they come to grow alongside you  
let us feel the warm breeze on our skin and help us blush anew 
Beneath the heaven, let there be light and a tad of cerulean blue 
I know you know the ways of health so please, sunray us a few ?   

Frizzle frizzle goes the pavement as we geer up for the heat   
give us plush green grass for we are eager to plant our feet 
we need playgrounds we need parks , an even open view  
we need children's laughter, pretty flowers of every hue  

Razzle dazzle us with honey suckles and wild wild roses too 
we need a world full of people who are healthy, once anew .

Music At the Park

Music at the Park 


I used to love the spring and summers when I was younger. 
When the days were warm and brought nature into bloom. 
I remember when all gathered to listen to music under 
the blue sky at the park as time passed with plenty of room. 

We laid our blankets to sit or just to lie down, nothing special.
Some sat in the high grass by their cars; it did not matter
as long as our entertainment always arrived on schedule. 

The music played over a constant thrum of background chatter. 
There was nothing better than jazz, blues, and rock frizzle.

3/6/2020


BACK WHEN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier

A Rural Station

A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long truncated railroad stop
humming still within a surrogate reality.
As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.
Caps, coats, and carts
employed again by the magnetic
echos of an iron labor.
The brown weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its guts a nest for ticking birds.
Dandelions anticipate
a faraway flight,
A mid-day heat 
thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive
as if its world
had not disembarked forever.

Todays Wedding

Grooms not nervous now
Brides expecting more
Fathers going broke
Mothers counting money
Frizzle frazzle day

What happened mints?
What happened cake?
What happened punch?
What happened nuts?

More more more
Everything
Bridezilla

Simple?
Lovely?
Not quite.

Wedding

Mountain Climbin'

Out there, seemingly everywhere, await mountains upon mountains to be conquered
Some of us choose to plunge ahead, while many are deterred

What is this fear and apprehension that pervades our bodies?
What is the curiosity and desire that frizzle our jollies?

When a HUGE, ROUGH, formidable structure stares you in the face...
Will you prepare yourself for the task at hand or seclude yourself in a more restful place?

Oh! Don't worry! This piece of nature is sure to present itself...
It's funny how mother nature works but one must secure his straps or else cry for help

Nobody said it was going to be easy, nor did anyone say it was going to be fun.
That burning desire to make it to the top, that feeling of wanting to be up near the sun

If you feel like you want to stop...
Just wipe the sweat from your face and keep reachin' for the top

When your arms and legs begin to tire...
Rest for a while if need be but let your HEART lift you higher 

Amid your climb, please don't look down...
'Cause if you do, you might fall into the temptation of turning around

And remember, keep steady your pace...
'Cause each stride upward will get you to that desirous place

Fickle

Fickle

The ebb and flow of life;
Fickle is, fickle does, fickle so
Yet struggle we all to know,
Can we really do this?
Love—yeah, Friendship—yeah,
Character, Smart, Dumb, Fun;
Do we know what we want?
Forever fickle can be that
Forever pickle that we laugh at
With Mankind locked in that
Forever maze ever mercurial.
Frazzle, frizzle, razzle are the now;
Dazzle is the How and When?
One who’s portentous in thought,
Whose mind is open but adrift,
May know this How and When.
Shall it be him or her or both?
Just maybe—it’s no one at all!     

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(March 28, 2016) (Verse)

Mathematical Equations

My homework has many an equation,
Teacher says math is a good foundation;

It all seems like a puzzle,
Squiggles that make my mind frizzle,

Oh please tell- when is summer vacation?


___________________________
March 8, 2016

Poetry/Limericks/Mathematical Equations
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 765-437-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

If I Were

If I Were
IF I WERE

IF I were the clouds,
I would rain love on your heart's garden
I would rain and even rain snow
I would make your heart icy
So that when it condenses,
pure water of love would flow.
Then the cycle continues

If I were the sun,
Beam of my love would meet your eyeballs at a perfect angle
I would scorch until the tears in your eyes frizzle.
Every ray would have a meaning,
so that even without words,
You would look at me and give a smile

If I were the moon,
My illuminated body would show you the way to my heart's gateway,
so that when the world's darkness leave you alone,
my light of love would rekindle your hope.
You would stand and look at my yellow face
You would look until you get infected with the fever.

If I were you,
I would make my heart have a deep sleep.
For mine is there to be her guard
It is a promise he needs to keep,
so don't even say 'Thanks'

Brief Life

My father told me how
Pretty petals blooms
and blow away
In just one day they’ve gone away
So dry we cant fresh again
even if we cry and cry and cry our pains
and our eyes frizzle bleeding clots of rain
it can never stop heal the wound
But the tears we pour
they never waste away
They make dews and wet the earth
that just before our eyes 
New roses sprout again
cheering up our sorry faces
though
The joy it brings still has an end

Yellow and White Eggs

Yellow and white eggs as colorful as meadow flowers:
broiled, scrambled or over-easy...
they are my morning healthy choice;
they frizzle when they cook in this non-stick frying pan...
shouldn't I thank that generous hen?
How many times oil splashes in my left eye?


Whoever says they have more 
cholesterol than saturated fat,
doesn't know the health benefits they provide, or how good they taste!
Anyone is welcome at my door:
yellow and white eggs are the best
when served with fresh orange juice, tea, hot chocolate or French roast!

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