In the city, theater beckons,
As museums do and parks.
There are restaurants and monuments
To set creative sparks.
There are streets that teem with tourists,
Gazing goggle-eyed around,
As they navigate by foot or bus
Or subway underground.
There are fields where sports are playing;
There are ferries on the river.
Yet if quiet’s what you’re seeking,
There are spots that can deliver.
Benches nestle hither thither,
Just awaiting their next guest,
Who might find that it’s the perfect place
To get oneself de-stressed.
Forgotten quanta
the neglecton an anyon
zero in the math—
particles once discarded
unlock quantum computers
Rising unobserved
they shimmer in golden glass
zig-zagging unseen—
how was brilliance unnoticed
in gobble-goop of a yawn
I too drift unheard
neglected in crowded rooms
my pulse fading slow—
a particle in shadow
longing to be recognized
when students ask about metaphors
and similes
i love it
but please stop identifying juxtaposition
i hand them a
dictionary
look it up yourself pal
i never had a classical education
and can't pronounce Persephone
and don't
believe anybody can
so just avoid that bit of the curriculum
avoid the greeks
give me the graphic novels unit or give me death
metaphors be with you
Quietly waiting
at the table
legs swinging…
Then, Aunty Jean
brings in
green soup.
Mother-glares at me,
sister-stares with me
at the cold green soup.
Is it medicine,
pond slime,
mushed frogs?
...at least twenty
spoonfuls long.
Silently I say, “Ugh!”
Quietly waiting
at the table…
Aunty Jean brings in
passionfruit cheese-cake,
cream dessert.
Is it more slime,
frog spawn,
tadpole eyes...?
Oh no, it’s a giant slice.
I take one bite…
“Oh,” says Uncle Ron,
“Don’t you like it?”
“Not really,” I murmur.
“All the more for me,”
He smiles,
turns goggle-eyes,
leans across,
adds my slice to his.
Cauldron bubbling,
mixture squelching
sauces oozing
gases belching…
“A glass of milk?”
“Yes please, I’d like
a glass of milk.”
“...and a chocolate frog?”
“No,
No thank-you,
Aunty Green.”
It blooms
in the steam,
white and velvety.
What makes it unique
is its shape and taste. True
culinary art is created in the heart.
Ajinomoto is never sprinkled for a harmful
delight. The old purity prevails in the batter of rice,
black gram, fenugreek, and salt, challenging time. The
idli brings a hamlet into the limelight. Like a ballad, its recipe
and cuisine have been passed down. I goggle at it before gobbling.
No gripe. Eupeptic. My fatigue does vanish in the relish. It’s not the
painted wall, but the warm air and the delicious dish that linger in my soul.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
Bandicoot's bounce over my dead lead head.
Grim the outlook,
I am the grimness in my own storybook.
Moods are my mannerism's.
Gooey nose - a stonking flu
got me
now I mimic a monkey
with my bullhorn blowing.
When will the sun rise my eyes?
Blighted by sniffles, I dizzy and sway
to the 'Drug Mart', there to gag and goggle;
at so many meds for a bunged-up head.
Handfuls of hope
back to the laze-upon floozy chair
guzzling pills a popping.
Later, write this,
mayhap get pissed on some bitter brew.
Bandicoot's snoring.
A little peckish.
Here a glimmer
there it is, the shiny light,
feeling svelte in a sky bright blue.
Sniffing better, sleep later.
I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace on the interweb
I ask "how do I find the North Star?"
and get 4,460,000,000 hits, mostly ads
for an ice cream bar called "The Big Dipper"
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
Kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
believing my first job was swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
for I speak of phones connected to the wall
and TV sets with 4 channels and cars that got 8 mpg
I don't know url's from www's, or http's from html's
my mobile phone always auttocronects my speeling
and cyber censors block my search for 'penal colonies'
I cannot find the mute button on Zoom
so my belch might make it into the meeting minutes
my internet takes regular coffee breaks
and the only tweeting is the birds outside my window
so I sit at my screen watching dots chase themselves in a circle
trying not to get toast crumbs
on my high tech keyboard
Written 16 Mar 2022
>
> Mask wearer
> Grief bearer
>
> Police cars
> Jail bars
>
> Silver coffin
> Satin stuffin
>
> Pall bearer
> Grave terror
> Huge brassiere
> Elephant ear
>
> Bad skater
> Ice breaker
>
> Roach clip
> Fast trip
>
> Fast pass
> No class
>
> French kiss
> Tongue twist
>
> Leaves fall
> Amber autumnal
>
> Goggle wearer
> Human terror
>
> Bumper cars
> Seeing stars
>
> Broken hip
> Surprise slip
>
> Sexy legs
> Human pegs
>
> Piano player
> Ivories swayer
>
> God's teacher
> Our preacher
When I goggle at the screen
Of wild black yonder,
O Stars! I feel a blazing avidity
In my vital limbs
Elan eyes of the angels,
Invested in with thousand finesses,
Show your cloudless sparkle to
the ignorant world
The magnetic star adjacent the Moon
to guide the sailor way out,
My heart responds to
thy flickering with life,
You ignites my bituminous soul,
With an immortal spark
There is a saying:
Every doughnut has its day.
Every baby gets its way.
Every month is somehow May.
Every swing is met with a sway.
Okay, okay, okay...
We get it.
Reset it.
As if there wasn't enough grandeur already.
Here we are smearing
The grime from our goggle lenses.
Take the goggles off.
Jump the fences.
Wisdom tree is broken down,
From the peak of hand in hands,it can't be replaced,
When condition got worse,
No leaves were found on its branch,
Thinking I would survive through jungle of attention,
Its remedy was an illussion,
Appeared as realist in blue jeans,
Walking on pavements linked to everlands,
I had no alternative than to jump for declining ideas,
Unfortunately,jungle of knowledge was putting on black mind,
My head was covered with helmet,
Craddle as kiddish ferret,
And my eyes seeing through a goggle,
Carnally,my thinking falcuty was going through ogle,
Making the glory fade away through the medium on my face,
Play of disrespect spat curses on my youthful days,
Ushered me into lessoned chambers in the brain,
Wisdom was nowhere to clean a stain,
After I became vintage for a while in vain.
DEBACLE
I am digging out of my debacle
Do you still look for the ancient bottle
I am offering you my best goggle
Let's overcome all of the greatest obstacle
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando October 22, 2016
Wallflowers with their faces raised,
and others too, with heads bowed low;
the weak, the stronger, eyes all glazed...
those flowers there all in a row.
Wallflowers placed against the wall,
stems bent and twisted, on display.
In a long row, they line the hall,
like wilted plants, no role to play.
Wallflowers there lined up as eight;
tomorrow perhaps there are less.
So soon replaced by whims of fate...
more added flowers in distress.
They stab the heart of those who pass;
eyes look into our depth of soul.
Blank eyes that glare like faded glass...
sad hearts that know there is no goal.
Wallflowers there against the wall;
from wheelchairs come the quiet cries.
I hear their silent, pleading call...
My anger I cannot disguise.
Sandra M. Haight
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Weepy Quatrain
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 05/21/2016
================================
I wrote about this moment, which is
intensely frozen in my mind, because of a visit to a local
nursing home. (photo from Goggle images.)
Whilst drinking in a bar with my mates, i started to get "that feeling"
i ended up getting so pissed, that you could have scraped me off the ceiling.
My beer goggles kicked, i saw a girl, i thought she was hot.
We went home, we did the naughty.
I woke, and realised, she not.
The memories came flooding back, and i started to get a banging in head.
So i rolled her up in the quilt and i kicked her out of bed.
I wrapped her up so tight in the quilt, she looked like a larvae cocoon
it was almost 8am, and i knew she would wake up soon.
So keeping her out of my way, still wrapped in the quilt, i tape her to the wall.
Then she awakes, and by the look on her face, i knew she remembered nothing of last night at all.
so i un-tape her from the wall and kick her out of the wall, she certainly wont be missed.
That's the sort of trouble i get myself in into, when i go out with my mates and get pissed.
He is about five feet three inches high,
his head is half-bald and remaining hairs are gray,
though original color of the hairs was dark brown.
He wares mustache that both ends are pointed
and rolled up like Kaiser Wilhelm; however,
his mustache is somewhat thinner than that of Kaiser’s.
He has brown eyes and sharply nose.
Although he is a short, his body structure is upper range of
medium built. He is not wearing glasses in his daily routine;
nevertheless, he wears glasses while he is working
at bench. In addition to the glasses he even wears
a pair of goggle type magnifiers on his forehead.
When he talks, he slightly shakes his head.
And if he is in exiting mood, he even shakes more.
He was a forsaken child brought up in a slum.
He was an abandoned child never knew the parents’ love.
Nonetheless, his most unique characteristic that makes him different from others is that he loves to play a clown, because his heart is filled with tears that to be hidden behind thickly-painted makeup; because his heart is full of concealed grudges that to be glossed over with the funny gesture.
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