My favourite drink is one with milk,
I sip it noon or night without any guilt
Love it with strawberries blended within
Keen to try new flavours-where to begin?
Shaken or stirred or anything in between
Having it in frosted glass over the kitchen sink
All my love pours out for this drink
Kids adore, also hit with teens
Energy & essence, both boxes ticked.
Your mother’s glass. The only one in the cabinet that
does not match the others. It’s beautiful. Purple
crystal scattered on linoleum like a layer of fine
mauve dust. The first tear falls from a thousand
fractaled faces, glistening in the sun. Birds turn
dirges in the late autumn air, as you push slivers
into the dustpan—the vision of her soft hand around
the glass fades with each reluctant sweep. Tears
pool in your eyes and you wonder why she gave
you such maladroit arms, sunspotted and shaky. Or
a brain wired to prefer the taste of Diet Coke in a
glass over ice, just as your mother did. Shards clink
in the trash, your tears race them to the bottom. The
lid closes in a soft thud—the birds stop singing
I don’t want to fix you.
And I certainly don’t need to be fixed.
But if we were to fix each other, it would be like this.
We'll start
with our broken smiles
But forget mending a broken heart
because what’s the point on fixing things that are meant to be broken
Like a glass stomped on at a wedding
The heart is meant to shatter and be mended and shatter and be mended and shatter again
Our gazes, though, those can be fixed
My eyes glass over more often than not which has much to do with the depths my mind travels to
Your eyes dart around the room, as if to pace with you,
as if to mimic my anxious mind races.
And those we can ease as well, our anxious minds.
And maybe that will fix enough.
It won't even feel like fixing
because we just might forget that we were ever broken
I got out the root beer to have a drink.
I poured it in a glass over by the sink.
By accident I went too fast.
I poured way too much for the glass.
Really quick I took a sip,
Frothy foam tickled my lip.
Higher and higher the bubbles rose,
And then the soda went up my nose.
I started to cough, then I started to wheeze
Before I knew it I had to sneeze.
I sneezed so hard, I dropped the glass on the floor,
So I started all over and poured some more.
2005 For Worms in My Lunchbox Collection
Machiavellian schemes besmirch a murky mangrove calm
A propeller breaks the tranquil glass over an underwater farm
Neath the broken still, a peaceful giant stirs with alarm
and no consolation is found as noise churns it's quiet charm
The serene spots need to be augmented for they are our balm
Ecosystems need protection from greedy developers’ harm
Empyrean Earth for all, is in our active palms, giving alms…
(5/12/21: Custom ketch; KKMI Richmond)
This hard pallet balances my pendulum
Creating colors of love on your palette
With each brush stroke upon your canvas
A masterpiece is created with our love
A deep colored Walnut frame I place around you
Placing a large piece of clear glass over you
Keeping you safe from others touching you
I have placed a light above. lit with our love
That gets brighter each day I am with you
Screems screems in the earthen pot
dreams draught in the thought hot
Like a glass over a cover of earthen pot slips
Making the tintaling sounds in the wet lips
Sleeps sleeps disturbed in the middle night
feels like a Leap year in the extinct eye sight
Two tentacles besides your arms scratching
Sounds of bats and apes warms reaching
Awaken the night insomiacly
Eyes stress in suddenly openly
now windows open closed making sounds
Winds flown in the terraces high pounds
fears intruded in body unnecesary
Tears rolled in shody unnecesary.
I'm no longer into perfumed winks.
That rip the sails from listing hearts.
Then offer them to the icy deep.
I'd rather hear sparrow song.
Then a king's glittering coo.
There's thunderous truth in how
nature tilts her head to gauge intent.
Plucks rubies from the silver bough.
I'm grizzled now.
Into tranquil sorts of things.
A lily waltzing summer pond.
Gazing deep into purring dream.
Its beach glass over gold and glitz.
Soft sand beneath my bent veined feet...
Asphalt is for collecting stiletto shells.
And the echoes of things that bleed.
I'm grizzled enough to know,
kings merrily vomit cherry bombs at the bow of paper souls.
Little World
Little world was already shrinking
It’s getting smaller by the minute
Age is diminished too inside a cube shaped room
There are fewer and fewer items to count
Most things are gone or missing due to thieves
Memories are listed on five fingers
Nothing really important to point out
1.) I remember song and rhythm
2.) Divisions taking life down in size
3.) Babies come to mind because they cry
They are very small all the time
Come from a tiny world, compact and derisive
4.) I remember wife and children… They should be #1
5.) God comes to mind. Allies large and small are good to have
Less things in existence makes perfect sense
Like water, life evaporates, becomes something else
Remember to take a pill, small and gray
With that clear wet stuff in the glass over there
A small thing to remember
Little chance I’ll forget that
I hold you close to me and I don't know why.
You give me strength and purpose I can't deny.
Like a dry sponge, you allow me to pour,
My soul into you and you never close the door.
You are part of me, like my arm or my hand,
So tired I become, can't even stand.
My eyes glass over with water from my tears,
Doing this with you helps me fight my fears.
I hold you so tight, with the grip of steel,
Never to let you go, so strong is my will.
Through you my friend, I can do anything,
Compose music, write a book, or even sing.
With a delicate hand, I keep you so sharp,
I can put you down to paper and then we can start.
-Not for any contest
broken spindle lay on its side
the stair rail weakened
Can an hour glass turn itself?
no one hastens the seeming repose
splintered spindle reclines in peace
raggedy doll's eyes are closed
and the hour glass gathers dust
objects jog her memories of a fight
spindle in one scarred hand
doll clutched in the other
she turns the hour glass over
day of new beginnings
Moonlit ride, darling Jasmine at his side
Strode the carpet ride, the night was young
Devil was in the details though, as they glide
Across the desert, time sadly crept and clung
To their faces, bodies, as they were older now
Genie no longer in the bottle but having fun
Freedom tasted sweet i'm sure, but frowning
Was Jafar in his castle from afar, fighting none.
The Sultan too was sad to see, ever older
The sands of time ravaging them all cold
Twisted rhymes turned the glass over again
Terrible dreams Aladdin thought to himself then
It must be true, about how they were not to mix
Recalling this in his bag of tricks, he deftly pulled
It from his pocket, a trinket frozen in time and six
Magical rubies, put in the hourglass and not to be ruled
By tyranny of chronos any longer, they would be young
Again, but wisdom would be completely lost as well
So well, back in the pocket and back to the ride he flung
Jasmines arm over his shoulder and all was again swell
------------------------------------
For Sweet Linda-Marie's contest: "DISNEY"
By: Tim Bryant
Understanding that a period of anger and rage need to be had,
to allow her to vent her emotions and then regain her sense of self and
reality.
But is a prolonged period needed?
Is such a permitted tenure being abused?
Not wanting to give in I remain in a sense of unbudging callousness.
Only such a state will empower me agains the abuse of her warranted
anger.
Why can we no longer be amorists?
Why have we been conformed to have no dialogue between us?
No normality of such a relationship has existed for some time.
Not since this relationship has been cultivated, have we experienced
the socially acceptable union...or even that had among our peers and
elders.
Partly due to my lack of experiecne and damaged conscious, many of our
problems can be charged to me.
But why, when something better is desired, is there no coupled effort?
Nothing sought after on her part?
Perplexed, I seek to dig within myself to alter my ways.
But still she does not appreciate any change.
She continues to have her magnifying glass over my head, only examining
my shortcomings.
Perturbed...Confounded I remain.
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