While walking to school
I was thinking about last weekend
- it was great. we did nothing -
and I stumbled on uneven pavement
it was a trip down memory lane
I was wearing a dress and I skinned my left knee badly
Charles, walking with me, grimaced at the blood
- which almost made me laugh
he wanted to call a car but I doughtily soldiered on,
scraped, bleeding and cursing my own clumsiness
If people noticed they didn’t point, stare
or barf at the grizzly sight
at school, I went straight to the ladies,
and washed it with soap and water
sticking pieces of toilet paper to the worst of it
to stop the bleeding and then limping to class
in emergency medicine, that toilet paper
would be called an ‘immediately sterile’ cover.
.
.
Songs for this:
Walk Like an Egyptian - The Bangles
.
.
Each year I made a Christmas playlist.
If you like Christmas tunes, please enjoy the Christmas feels!
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_35.mp3
Happy Holidays Everyone!
ANGEL OF DEATH
He went to check
up on the cat
tripped over a
crooked vine table
tried to get up
smashed its circular
glass in half
moon shapes
Street silent in
obedience
Angel was waiting in
right hand ceiling corner
said “Look here”
He turned his grey
head neck swirling
eyes like saucers
Angel swiftly drew
outgoing breath
body surrendered
Soul flew into another
Light pod without
a goodbye
Neighbour said
fetch a sheet
a week before
Dad grimaced
“Alles vir Niks”
(All for Nothing)
His wisdom words
he did not fully
comprehend
Angel of Death
knew he was
more than ready
for his Light
pod lessons
He is washing his
hands with his
Mother
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2025
She wisped into existence
All reality quivered around her like
the morning glisten off dewdrops linger
Sorry I am late
She beamed at her friends
Sheer grimaced a smile
from her pale drudgery
Silth grabbed her wrist
Look plants grew in my footsteps
That’s new I am so used to the sand
He gazed at the rapidly expanding grass
See that forest there
I went for a walk in that field last night
Bo as usual was being carried piggy back
by her only love fate gaunt and wiry
but his shoulders never failed her
I know what we can do today Aque stopped her friends
Today we bring back truth
And no groans from you fate
So with me
You wait
In chortled glee
Time’s ticking toll
Sharpening itself
‘neath your dark robe
And I
Poor fool
Fear not your sting
As naught is left
But tatters
Of past now’s
And you
Life’s dark companion
Have counted every step
Held sway
Lest I falter
Seasoned my errors
With adrenal angst
I wait
In grimaced glee
Enshrouded
In an endless
Thinning veil
Awaiting
There it lay, lovely loose ooze on my path.
Black, sticky, stinky mud with aftermath.
I knew the feeling as feet slither in
As I grinned and grimaced with chagrin.
Squelch, squish, slurp, splutter and splat the ooze groans,
As my feet are soiled to pitch black tones.
Such a disgusting feeling with feet stuck
In the vile pile of gloppy, sloppy muck.
Through the mud up to top of thighs I wade,
But, creeping along, slow progress is made,
I sink lower down to my waist and stall.
Appalled, I squirm on my belly and crawl.
As I dragged myself up, the ooze clung on.
Any hope of staying clean was long gone.
yesterday
watched men try to ride
in some graceful fashion
a flying, spinning, gyrating, horned beast
for eight seconds
probably should feel sorry
for the exploited beasts
but none of them grimaced in pain
and limped away cradling
an injured limb
however
there was this weird,
hornless, white as snow "thing"
lurched out, fell back on the chute,
reeled and tipped, almost falling,
then it bucked, finally
too late for any good
red flagged when he stumbled
out of the gate
that sorry freak of an animal
is half the rider's score
if he can't do his part
it's a re-ride (on something better)
correct for me
to pity that poor creature,
I know–but––really?
his name was Trump Train
I'm gonna go find an election prop
and bet all I can wager
his namesake
doesn't survive the primaries
Trump Train
yeah, right
more like
Trump Train Wreck
A progressive mother across the street
Taught her twelve-year-old how to beat his meat
Gave him a graphic lesson,
She was proudly confessin’
In ways, I think, this mother hard to beat.
When the time comes get right down to it
Having a good poop is a fine sit
Quite relaxing, in fact,
Once you get the knack
Ten minutes is a jolly good sh*t.
A boy in Winchester rubbed it raw
I think, frankly, that practice takes some gall
As a doctor I grimaced,
This young lad was the dimmest
That day of all the young patients I saw.
Written May 22, 2022
Let me say....
I don't know you, let me say
This heart fell for you, let me say
How long, how far and why?...
This love sprouted for you, let me say
I don't speak, but let me say
This word unspoken, let me say
hesitated, stuttered and sly....
This emotion brought for you, let me say
I don't look at you, but let me say
This beauty not complimented, let me say
sulked, grimaced and eyes full of tears....
This bliss of love for you, let me say
I don't stalk your path day long, but let me say
This step, slowed, paused, let me say
Heard, waited, praised and why?....
This impatience in your heart, let me say
I don't stare at you, but let me say,
This thousand words in glimpse, let me say
stretched, faster heartbeat and ran away....
This unspoken love for you, let me say
I don't live alone, but with your thoughts, let me say
This gaze of your for me, Oh! Let me say
bulging, rampaging and burning why?....
This hidden care for me, baby, let me stay.
I now know you, That I love you, Let me say.
God, thank all the earth angels,
Teaching me to once again walk.
Days ago, I grimaced and balked.
No, not yet dancing nor wearing
belly dancing spangles.
Yesterday, it was 80 steps I so
profoundly pleased.
Today I insisted on going further.
I’m not patient with my life on a
back burner.
I like life only on the challenges of high
seas!
So with astute guidance, we cheered
when I reached 160 steps.
To those with my good at heart.
I pray for you all, like golden apples
in a cart.
Thank you for making this possible, we
have a bond of love, which you kept!
Merci
Pangie
12/22/2021
-Dedication-
A special thanks to all who have my back,
are in my corner, and those who prayed
for me..,Merry Christmas. You really made
this the best holiday ever!
Plastic surgery does not come free,
I earned the lines life etched on me.
I have frowned, laughed, smiled, grimaced,
Have all put character on my face.
My grey hair and fading eyes,
Are truly me,
I've no disguise,
Or need to hide.
I hope my beauty lives inside.
He wriggled and squirmed,
Like a demented worm.
Fidgeted and fumbled,
Grimaced and grumbled,
He jiggled and jived,
Contorted and writhed,
Kept saying Arrr,
Like a wasp in a jar.
He was out of control,
This poor wretched soul,
As he reached fever pitch,
He found the itch,
Which he scratched until,
His body stayed still.
I'm shivering, naked, I'm amidst bodies on a cart
All I remember is looking up awaiting the water
Entangled I am seeing grimaced pinked faces
And a solumn looking sky very close to tears
Now discarded, left, sensing a sweet acrid smell
Knowing the await, soon the others and I
Time passes as I drift in and out of reality
Then night falls, as I awaken to quieting sobs
Accents I hear, that I'd only ever heard in movies
Aghast gasps of witnessed horrors befall my ears
Crisp morning airs adorn my emaciated frame
Slowly my eyes open to a cacophony of cries
Gently I feel my skeletal existance being carried
Choked voices console as I blearily scan
A silent emptiness abounds, even chimney stacks
No more I see these ills, these evils, they!
Two masks or not two masks?*
Is that a question.
Whether it is better to kneel,
to bow in silent supplication,
or show your teeth in anger’s
grimaced rebellion.
To walk at perfumes edge
denied the scent of love’s
soft fingered summons
erase a moment’s touch
in antiseptic angst.
Oh, but to once ignore
the droning voices
shouts of a falling sky
an ever present doom,
hanging, guillotine like,
o’er the heads of all.
To run, wind threshing
from your face
the dust of quarantine
the tears of dying’s dying.
To laugh, to shout, to sing
without rebuttal’s response
challenge the weights
of “fingered” scales
question the veracity
of vacillating voices.
Two masks or not two masks?
(*with apologies to the bard)
John G. Lawless
©5/11/2021
He is here, my wife warned me. So put on your shirt.
Who is it? I asked. Not realizing it was him from the dirt.
I saw him at the coffee machine and I grimaced, turned blue.
Frankenstein is worse in person than in theory I can tell you.
He turned and his cover up make up did not fool me a bit.
You are the one I have been waiting for, he said, you are my hit.
I will kill you after breakfast, and maybe again after lunch.
I am going to Franken-size you, so I can kill you a bunch.
I could barely eat my eggs, I was so nervous and sad.
My wife was glaring at me. She was truly quite mad.
You are the one who kept worrying, she warned, angry for sure.
You conjured up this dead thing; why were you not more pure?
Hey, I said. If I can worry you in, can I worry you out?
Frankenstein, the undead shook his head all about.
Too late now, he told me. Will it be axe or knife?
I ran like bells, leaving him alone with my wife.
Many dry seasons have passed since his last drink
John retrieved himself from a slow deadly brink
Gone are the wretched times he puked in the sink
But he remembers the vile vomit coloured in pink
Blood and acid flushed away from churning bile
Self-destruction on his slate and a bathroom tile
Right behind the grimy loo basin in projectile style
To which he reached out with a grimaced smile
No one left to blame for addiction’s sloshed trait
It dawned that only he himself could temper his fate
Clean up the besmirched mess from anger and hate
To take responsibility for his reckless calamitous state
Honesty won over deceit and it cut like a sharp knife
But it helped to search for a far more meaningful life
In the process he even found a lover soulmate and wife
She and sobriety saved him to love again and survive
17th February 2020
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