Gulps Poems

Lazy Evening on my Porch with My Dogs

the evening is alive with promise
dogs lie on their porch, loving the breeze
chimes are tinkling in a happy manner
there are two sounds – the air conditioner and crickets

the wind picks up strength; leaves rustle
one dog’s head comes up; he gulps some wind
in the distance a dog barks. My two dogs are on their feet.
They run up the hill barking with serious intent.

Rainbow Rain Faerie

Rainbow rain faerie stood in the rain enjoying every bit of it
Taking large gulps of air, she felt replenished and refreshed.
Her rainbow wings welcomed the soaking the rain was giving them
April was rainbow rain faerie’s favorite month, it rejuvenated her.
Other fey sat under moss and violets watching, not understanding.
She did not notice; she was enjoying the rain’s sounds and ambiance.

blank page needs feeding

Every word is a choice
The notebook page is hungry
She needs verbs
Her blank page excites me
Verbs are my favorites too
I give her a teaspoonful of jumping, dancing, and twirling

She gulps that down with gusto
Gives me a nod
I feed her a tablespoon of whirling, skipping and hopping
Followed by a cup of adjectives
I like her to have a balanced diet

Exciting, thrilling, beautiful, marvelous, entertaining
More adjectives? Black, salty, red, inky, personable
Where are my nouns? The page asks.
I ponder. Dragon? Unicorn? Witch? Pillow case?
She laughs

Pillowcase it is.
I take out my pen.
A ninety-two year-old whirling twirling pillowcase was having
An exciting, marvelous, beautiful entertaining visit, wowing
The other women in the next church pew.

Cheater

She sits across
The dinner table
Watching as her husband
Slowly eats the dinner
She had prepared him
For hours
There’s not even a
Thank you
Escape from his mouth

She mentions the name
Ruth
And watches as he chokes 
On his dinner
Gulps down nearby water
So he doesn’t choke to death


Late at night
He attempts to reassure
His wife that
Ruth and him are friends
And nothing more
Yet his late night texting
Raises her suspicion 


She lives in denial
For a little while
Then begins to 
Regret
She’d ever married him

While she lays in bed
And worries
He’s filled with carelessness
Closes his eyes
And
Dreams about Ruth

A Haunting Spot

Pearl
rapids
steam cascade 
haunting  canvass 
a red dawn smoulder 
to prise sluggish eyelids 
of zestful bright mood  riser 
who gulps in  rapt awestruck spoonfuls 
of mosaic zone enthralled  enclave 
awash with random sun drenched blue pool plops 
Where giddy children cast green hue pebbles
 as dulcet birds tweet from gaunt elm twigs
and rainbow trouts skim silver streams
wet grass clumps sag on mud banks
a grey fleck morning haze
that scene shift migrant
a spring usher’s
mint leaf scent
in faint,
gust

Brawny Ale

A frothy crown, pale as the whites 
Of eyes widened with fascination,
Perched on a robust body, deep as molasses.
Brooding; concealing a warm rapport.
But still so condescending, its stout posture
Condenses air to beads of sweat.

Invited, parched lips kiss the cold glass
Rewarded with familiar comfort -
A bitter burst, sharp and clean,
Fading into toffee warmth,
Hints of roasted coffee and chocolate bloom,
All linger, like a whispered secret.

The golden harp strums cheerful notes
In harmony with taps, clinks, and murmured oaths
Cheers dance over lacquered walls, awash with glee
As gulps of crisp bitters and molten sweets
Cascade, watering dry cracks in weary bones.

A tonic for the soul, it lifts the load -
Worries dissolve, fading like bubbles on the lip.
It washes away the settling dust,
Soothes the mind into peaceful currents,
Sinking burdens to its murky depths
As spirits rise to play in the air of its frothy crown.

watching a puppy be a puppy

Our puppy never walks
He runs, prances, dances, chases his tail
His face conveys happiness every second
His tongue hangs to his legs when he sleeps
He gulps down water as if he has been in the Sahara for two years
He does everything fast, and to the utmost
With wide, exuberant enthusiasm
It is a joy to watch my puppy be a puppy

Come in to the Coil

     On spewing wave, our departing ride
     Crazed currents crack, an azure slide
     Freedom mingles in sea foam seethe
     Cobra throat coast gulps river relieve
     Estuary entry rests, rushing ruthless 
     Canoe oar dip downtempo soothe us


     Convulsing closing, seen from stern
     To mayhem mouth we shan’t return 
     Silver silt filters salt, lake lap littoral
     Ranges ahead etch graduating blues
     Drift beside reeds, bird pews hymnal 


     Harp strum seraphim strike chords
     Nacreous nematodes writhe towards 
     Tiny sun centre lace tutus feverfew 
     Pirouette pirogue wet on dawn dew 


     Papery apron snapdragon bonnets 
     Bloom ten a stem syllable sonnets
     Cut log capsule covets its heritage

     Forested foothills fix ship wreckage
     Fir hands welcome hung hammock 

     Cosy ocean recoil, mountains titanic 

    

 
         Sixth of November 
            - upstream -

The old couple

The old couple do everything together.
They walk side by side by the ridge 
of the ocean. 
They sit in the same table, every morning,
order ice cream, one ball for each:
vanilla for her, strawberry for him. 
Neither enjoy chocolate
that much. 

He is slower, licking the sliding
cream that pinks his fingers.
She gulps. The sound of waves stays for moment
and vanishes with a whip. 
The ice cream drops in the table with a ploft. 
She still swallows a generous portion with a giggle 
and shut her eyes.

My Heart

I dig with maniacal gulps in cupped hands
fearful of what I might find.
Yet with furrowed brow I dig further, deeper,
lips moist with perspiration.

Your shadowed visage then emerges clearly
as death on the mortician's agenda,
perceived as innocuous enough
while signaling for death's knell. 

My fingernails crust with darkened earth
and my arms weaken with overexertion.
Dark soil keeps falling, covering my efforts
by acknowledging the futility of it all.

And then I find it.
My heart lies still, glaucous and milk-like,
devoid of living blood's flush as my face grays
with the revelation that it, with you, is gone.

Racing the Currents

Softly murmuring, the river’s raspy voice
Settles my soul with its rumbling choice,
Rustling quietly beneath a glowing moon,
Splattered by the sound of the river’s rejoice

Light trickles from stars who’re strewn
Across flirty skies where dreamers swoon,
Leaving the heart full, moaning its needs,
While witnesses tell tales much like cartoons

Roaring rapids reveal what the mind reads,
In stories of crashing winds with its dark deeds,
While the river gulps and hiccups on its course,
Promising to bring us its astounding proceeds.

Waters boom and belch, such a mighty force,
Revealing God’s strength, the only true source,
Mighty waters rip out a path like a racehorse,
One that most gamblers would surely indorse.

feeding my stegosaurus

my stegosaurus lurks in the bushes
hiding from the neighbors, because he is shy
fearful of their ridicule and prying questions
trusting only me, which makes me feel terrific

I toss celery, tomatoes and radishes his way
he throws them in the air before he gulps them down
the neighbors do not question what I am doing
they are fearful of me, because I see what they cannot

His Name is Not Superman

   He jumps into his pants
     gulps down an espresso 
   Fairly flies out the door
     caught up in the flow  

  Sprints to the corner
     squeezes onto the bus
  His name is not ‘Superman’
     ~ He’s just one of us

bitten by rooster orcid

nasty rooster orchid chased me down in the feedlot
Took giant gulps out of my leg with his beak
I understand his name now I yelled to the hybrid king

Just a Cliche

Although it's a well worn cliche,
there is something soothing
in the thought of lying in bed 
listening to rain. Last night 
I was front row in a symphony.
An adagio of soft fall, murmurings 
on a metal roof and whispers
running along gutters.  
Calm in the tempo  
of raindrops, muted gargles 
and gulps echoed inside
the throats of downpipes.

Then everything changed.
A quickening pace heralded 
heavy rain and hailstones 
falling in a roar of wind.
Lightning flashed
behind curtains, thunder
drew nearer, giant, swollen
bags of noise burst
to come crashing down,
rattling windows and sending
the spill rushing through  
doorways into tense rooms.

Heaven unleashed its might, 
as if trying to tear itself away
from this world, 
as it still does, weighted 
with words and held here
on a page, longing to lift
into song with drum rolls
and tremble in a crescendo 
fit for a thousand voices,
straining to break free
and fly somewhere else,
finding itself stuck
in a poem, slowly drifting
towards sleep
and oblivion.

• Short Gulps Poems
• Famous Gulps Poems
• Best Gulps Poems
• Read Gulps Poems
• Long Gulps Poems
• Gulps Quotes