In the swamp the raccoons romp
And gators ply the waters.
Wild boars snuff and strut their stuff
And eat their sons and daughters.
Take a ride but stay inside
The boat, both feet and fingers
Or else your zeal provides a meal
(And teeth hurt more than stingers!).
On the boat, when gators float,
The captain calls them closer
With marshmallows tossed at little cost
Or meat that’s raw (much grosser!).
The gators know this little show
Provides a snack quite tasty,
So use their tail to some avail,
Their movements smooth but hasty.
The swamp’s a place I’d hate to face
On any daily basis,
Yet to its beasts it’s never ceased
To be a true oasis.
Categories:
grosser, environment,
Form: Rhyme
November! When the auburn autumn leaves
retard the tinkling brooks of Vallombrosa,
and kitchen chimneys draw the old ones closer:
when timid fieldmice nestle in the eaves
and oaken chests give up our longer sleeves,
and finer fabrics cede the game to grosser:
we close John Grisham, open Vargas LLosa:
Orion rises, and Arcturus grieves.
But sometimes there’s a gracious interlude.
Though winter waits offstage with all its lines
word-perfect, still a kind of summer shines.
The breeze feels older now, of muted mood,
not so disposed to boast its vital signs,
inclined to amble through the golden vines.
Sonnet composed: 10 November 2019
New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest 2019
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Categories:
grosser, seasons,
Form: Sonnet
Reading Shakespeare, I used to smoke Ophelia’s garland for a better understanding: crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. Fingers caused hypnogogic hallucinations, daisies – hypnopompic ones. Alas, crow-flowers and nettles didn’t work, but on the plus side, it got me thinking whether predetermination is predetermined. Hamlet is just in time to throw drowning Ophelia an inflatable crocodile and they live long and happily together, having left Shakespeare holding the bag.
is there a free will
in a predetermined world -
that is the question
Categories:
grosser, literature,
Form: Haibun
Got walloped today, driving conditions were treacherous
Freaked out my freaker, you guys were way too generous
I know it ain't over
But that was a grosser
Next time warn me so I can hibernatious
Categories:
grosser, snow,
Form: Limerick
( PIECES OF YOU EVERYWHERE )
Melancholy as a child mourning the death of a pet, I stood looking
At the pillow
Where we lain.
Little white flakes fell from your head, landing there.
How gross that I set my silk in it.
Grosser still; I chewed your old gum
And liked the taste of your mouth still on it.
Nostalgia fills my brain
With the smell of desire.
With the smell of a vanilla candle.
Found your writing on my wall.
The ink still smeared
By your big fingers
Waving out your goodbye.
Crushing my innocent, loving, heart.
I want it all back.
Before the meeting.
My eyes so bright like the sun's smile.
You would still be just a voice.
Now you are stuck in my tears forever.
(c) Jasmine Paul 11-20-2014
Categories:
grosser, missing you,
Form: Free verse