I welcome Autumn with a fond embrace,
Feeling Autumn's breath upon my face.
From high upon my Smoky Mountain stand,
I pause to behold Autumn's artistic hand.
Mist lifts slowly from the valley floor below,
As if a curtain rising on a long awaited show.
A majestic painting unfolds before my awestruck eyes,
Highlighted by the golden rays of a bright sunrise.
An endless carpet of trees, wet with morning dew,
Blazes with candy-colored leaves of nearly every hue.
My mind fails to recall a more stirring sight,
As unbidden tears upon my cheeks alight.
The sweet smell of ripened apples, littered on the ground,
Mingles with the earthy scent of mushrooms that abound.
Life is sustained by the season's bountiful fare;
Wild berries, fruits and nuts grow carelessly everywhere.
To eat hand to mouth is my childish heart's desire,
So, Autumn is the season that I most admire.
I want to be loved
not left behind every night
your beer is priceless
more priceless than love
our marriage gone up and smoke
hand to mouth you live
scratching the surface
separation of our hearts
feeling unfulfilled
MARRIAGE--A COLOSAL BLUDNER
It is approaching fast
I thought it would be a feast
When I realized it is not marriage?
As it has been a longing carriage
I waited so many long years
As if it were a long-cherished dream of hours.
She is more beautiful than the most beautiful
With an angular face wearing smile full.
She neither gets angry nor knows what it is.
Such a wonder woman she is.
She treats me a child
As she is magnanimous a child
Never questions me, "Why late?"
For me she always has a date
Nor does she give a quotation
For a costly saree* or its equation
To my salary which is hand to mouth.
She helps me when I am in trouble
"What a wonder you are!
To wonder me with art."
And I got up from my deep nap.
Oh! I despised myself had a gap.
It was a reverie, but colossal.
And I could never resist the temptation
To tell you. So, you get realization.
*women’s wear in India and some countries of Asia
they say it`s all the boomers and X`s fault-
into the wound they rub the salt.
we planted a seed and watched it bloom-
never expected any handouts upon a golden spoon.
we had to save real hard-
just to buy our very first car.
every day was lived hand to mouth-
to buy-and to furniture the house.
without technology we created our own fun-
and if it went wrong-we learnt by the outcome.
no words could ever tear us apart-
we didnt cry, didnt take anything to heart.
we learnt you had to earn respect-
and nothing was given or to expect.
A mountain is hidden in the heart of sadness
Under the rain, the tears have been sung
Look in the dark mirror of my heart
The tired voice of hope is silenced there
hand to mouth
Places are like chess pieces.
But life is complicated, always a storm,
Sometimes spring days, sometimes autumn.
From the pain of crying, the sky is starving
In the book of love, all pages are anonymous
An endless dream, jumped in my mind
The flowers of the night are sleeping in the arms of the dew
In the heart of the dark night, a moon shines in my mind
In the old ways, autumn memories are suffocated
I repeat myself, each time a little different, the same each time
In the silent desert of my heart, there is a star
I pick the flowers of words in the garden of silence
I find the missing bits, with the fantasy of flight
Land sakes alive what you been into child.
The sun is hot but the wind is mild.
My nose itches,
Someone’s coming with a hole in their britches.
Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.
A hooting and hollering like an injun’s raid.
I’m fair ta middlin’can’t complain too much.
Barely getting along. Maybe just a touch.
Cooped up like chickens. Driving me up a wall.
Just living hand to mouth. Ain’t he got some gall.
How y’all fairin’ my tail is a dragging.
It’s hotter’n Hades my tongue is a wagging.
Ain’t that just the way. Well bless your heart.
Your pea picking soul. Worse than a popcorn fart.
Let the chips fall. Where there’s a will there’s a way.
Keep your chin up. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Like a dog in heat always sniffing around.
Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.
Looking all fat and sassy with a turd eating smile.
Keep on crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.
Close your barn door before the horse gets out.
Uncle Sam is sure enough bleeding us dry.
Because I said so…that’s why!
~ All My Life a Waddie…
I have lived the life of a country bumpkin
matter of fact I came into this world where
Every day was lived hand to mouth so to speak
poor as a church mouse with not a crumb to spare
I’ve lived among the bright lights of the city
just doing the nine-to-five job everyday
Worked my ass off for less than minimum wage
took a few odd jobs for whatever it paid
Been a soldier, farmer, manager and cop
dug ditches, cleaned toilets and worked in a bar
Business owner, cashier, bouncer and a bum
laid highways, built bridges and washed people’s cars
I’ve flown through the sky and sailed over the sea
worked on mountains, the beach and in the forest
All through my life no matter the job I had
I have always tried to do my very best
Always lived the life of a hardworking man
never given a silver spoon that's for sure
I want you to know that I feel still quite blessed
and I would never ask for anything more
Now that the end of my working life is done
time for this old man to quit roaming about
Find a place I can sit and write poetry
until my final flicker of flame burns out
He remembers it before it arrives,
To collect a far one hundred miles drives,
To keep stalling payment his life deprives,
Better he ended up in beehives…
The end of every month full of meaning,
It’s a female worker’s time for preening:
In a sense, a life of subordination;
No envying other’s ordination,
Especially after allowances;
Just watch out for Michael Jackson’s dances!
In bed strong muscles completely inert,
Until their owner receives credit alert;
Boss wins the heart of a worker through wage:
The ones who split it their workers’ strength cage…
A promise of the life of “hand to mouth”
It has been the same story North and South.
You don’t wait, when an old mouth had gone out;
You’re asking for The Tormented’s sure shout
The Truth: worker’s wage plus his boss chance tips:
That way boss sure praises on his lips…
Your journey
though life begins
with your
very first breath.
Exploring your world
hand to mouth,
you test
boundaries.
Skirting
obstacles
encountered,
you look for detours.
There are guideposts,
but
free will chooses your path.
The world has forever
outgrown itself,
its pants no longer fit
The cuffs too short,
the waist too tight,
its inseam worn and ripped
The fabric that
it used to grow,
lay barren in the field
The magic that
it used to show,
a sleight of hand reveal
The world has forever
outgrown itself,
its future running out
The earth exposed,
the sky on fire
—all life but hand to mouth
(Dreamsleep: March, 2022)
The majority of mine lxiii years
expended delving deep into imagination,
yours truly escaped, loosed, thwarted...
reality courtesy bookland
roaming cerebral cortex terra firmae
did not amp pulley satiate
seemingly depression found me
(an uncompetitive, oversensitive,
intuitive, contemplative bookworm)
with scrunched pate,
a day short and a dollar late
one dime a dozen lad
hood scrimp and scrape,
a familiar pattern typified fate
viz - hand to mouth bleak
how zing existence aye equate
extant throughout three score
plus three years date
journeys round el sol,
this varsity schlepper, procrastinator,
malingerer did create
current emotional state
mottled with sea henna tint
financial, emotional and
psychosocial characteristics stint
aye serum eyes while
in utero the blueprint
indelibly etched analogous
brand York Peppermint
also analogous to musician
recording tracks upon primed glint
ting digitized compact disc
clear polycarbonate plastic substrate,
a reflective metallic layer,
and a clear protective coating
of acrylic plastic
breakable as flint.
I write because no one listens to me then complain when no one reads me.
John G. Lawless
5/25/2021
The tears left marks on her face.
The lines of stress still present.
They stole her life from our hands, not a
trace of the beautiful person that was living.
The tears cried on these streets. Us lowly,
poor people existing not living.
They stole so much from our lives. Lives now
hand to mouth, always begging.
They crushed the strength of our souls and
decided our lives weren’t worth living
My normal route diverted,
I walked north instead of south
And passed a man who looked like he
Existed hand to mouth.
He’d made a small encampment
Underneath a walking bridge,
Though of course he lacked a bathroom
Or a closet or a fridge.
But I had to give him credit
For I couldn’t help but look
As he knelt before a bookshelf
Picking out the perfect book.
There were maybe twenty volumes,
Neatly standing side by side,
Clearly adding to the ambiance
Of where he does reside.
We can make our living quarters
Cozy, if we are in luck,
But to do so when you’re homeless
Takes a little bit of pluck.
finger food
hand-to-mouth
with no after-chores
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