Hemming and hawing this feeling keeps gnawing at my mind
Why look to Freud his own advice was void he couldn’t pick a side
I have aces and a joker, he had a tarot card hand
With all the mysticism all you grasp at is sand
The hummingbird hums because he doesn’t know what to sing [a]
And if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything [b]
So says Freud that it’s the pursuit of happiness, (that unstable quest)
(And Freud being dead) Jesus said it’s the pursuit of holiness, that's best [c]
Spring is here,
and for the first time
the air smells like living.
Standing in the golden rays,
I feel a weight lifted —
like shackled stone losing its chains,
floating back towards the surface of the ocean,
carried to and fro,
dancing with the waves
as they carry me towards the horizon.
My lips begin to crack,
dry from the salt
that preserved my spark.
I sip from the freshwater spring
that bursts forward —
a ship with tattered sails,
hemming the threads
one seam at a time,
secured at the helm,
navigating west,
chasing the sunset.
Aardvark, audience, aim, address.
Double creature feature, sign sore stress.
Poets, penury, paucity, peak.
Prophets of the pack never wet the beak...
Carrion chic? Run raw revile.
Roundabout the dugout, crocodile!
Reptilian art in forgotten caves.
Knolly, unholy, goal, giant graves...
Mercy saves. Greed kills. No pain pills.
Mighty steel walls hemming in the hills.
Lemming, when you fall, do you see doom?
Certain curtain call, boulder seals tomb...
Flickering foxfire, foregone fate.
Heaven and Hell, horror and hate.
Tormented tornado and tired typhoon.
Chemicals dissolving in my spoon...
Queen of Carthage Dido, homebody high!
Stay with me forever in the bye and bye!
Fair as a naga queen in angry mood!
Hit it with wit if it's talking rude!
Buoyant like the hopes of a matador!
Quicken with thy cape, vampire! Be sure.
Yellow priestess, ritual sleek!
Alliance Black Abyss, plant one on my cheek...
Can’t any other mamas make pleats, take a tuck or hem?
Mrs. McVim, the town’s notorious seamstress asked of Dick and Jim.
Their mother was dead, so she could not help them.
She ended up shortening the tuxes of these two and their cousin Slim.
Slim’s mother was a seamstress, but too pooped at the end of the day
To do any more hemming, or seams, and she was ready to play.
Slim was appreciative as were his two cousins Dick and Jim.
They chipped in and bought a new sewing machine for Mrs. McVim
She eats her lunch while precariously balancing herself on a line
None of us clearly know why, but she tells us it keeps her feeling fine.
Several ebony crows come by cawing, hemming, tooting and hawing.
But does she fall off? Not ever, she’s a professional, Witch G. Bawing.
Written: November 12, 2023, For JCB Brul Contest
__________________________________________
With a balmy wind
nature sings its symphony~
as leaves dance above
Life's cycle will trounce autumn
saffron hemming without dread
Notice twigs slight fall
autumn's mind-astounding grace~
embrace spell lyric
as nature's croon blithely spread
trees sway in hone symphony
Assimilates with fireworks in the sable blue sky, the luminous daffodil orb emitted from the statue’s torch - twin towers intact. Demi-towers stand tall as the celebrant colors sizzle and whiz, like exploding stars, overhead. The city “that never sleeps,” a memory candle framed over my mantle, hemming in New York Harbor with its endless billowing sails. Red, orange, yellow, snow-white, cerulean passion at its happiest peak. The Lady stands relaxed, welcoming, even the two ‘copters. No one’s unhinged, fearing for ash, no human wears a pair of wings. If only time stood still as a piece of art.
rising and falling
hemming and hawing
fifty-two pickup
jokers included
I’d rather that my message was encapsulated in poetry
Instead of the hemming and hawing of the world
Seems a curse held under the breath, malodorous
You know what they’re thinking, as if they were pure
But the cauldron is bubbling with maleficent baubles
Just waiting to spit in your eye, which was dry…
10/29/2020
We are the workers, call us
an hour before an absent fill shift
The pyramid sprouts atop of
The heavy depths of broad ordinary,
Breadth mopped and swept
Silent cogs push motion
Everywhere, rarely heralded
Carpet of field mice scrambling
Part of the pattern, crucial
Expectations remain ingrained
Pith of the fruit, flavour generic
Bolster of bricks protects
Lighthouse of blinding brains
Scratching hand to steerhouse
Tightening bolts, scrubbing deck
Nugget behind their high shine
We are the labourers, casual pay
covers days not at work, sticking
To meagre styles, life defined
By the hemming, wage stemmed
- Can't afford to ask questions
Surge of activity, pothole filled
Inhibited by flurry, imagination aside
Menial smooths the cement
Minimum makes no plans
beyond next week, when, - if
I have a job. We will do any dirty
Demeaning chore, and thank you for
Your grace in giving it to us
6th August 2020
It Sucks - Contest
Kai Michael Neumann - Sponsor
During Sermon No One Seemed Inspired
During sermon no one seemed inspired,
Were almost sleeping while being tired;
Hemming and hawing;
Pawing and clawing,
And up congregation finally was fired.
Jim Horn
It's time to do the singing,
and I ready for my springing
no need to do any clinging, if looking for me, you will see, and
always find me Brimming
You will not find me swimming, and you will
never find me hemming
don't' like dirt or stemming
wherever the clouds are spinning, newspapers will be printing
You always find me Brimming
No need for any grinning, this is not sinning
loving this new beginning
looking for me, you will see, and you will
always find me Brimming
Evil smirks are on the agenda
For you tonight my Dear
Ever so fortunate my beautiful face dims
The hatred burning across the dinner table
You're as dense as your guests
They look at me through your eyes
I am the luscious
Silver spoon men like you relentlessly
Pursue until you capture and kill us slowly
I concede, by marriage I'm your wife
So when these friends of yours inquire
About our consecration before God
After too much brandy and not enough tact
A blush rises and you feign modesty
Hemming and hawing
You out wait the women
So you can give them a detailed account of my very being
At night I turn my back to you
And imagine you are one of the men you betrayed me to
Hemming my new bell bottoms.
Summer radio blaring to best seventies hits.
School's out ~ life is good.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2026
They are the boats in the river
Hills of the sun and the green leaves
Evening or mornings regardless
Roaring clouds I am afraid of
Oysters of friendship I seek much
Shouting trees I am nervous of
Embankment of the lake I need
Open arms of the jasmine tree
Fill the holes of monotony
Time acquires a pink dimension
Horizons of the moist rainbow
Endless pearls from the confluence
Fountain pens of the scarlet look
Rejoice within the long fingers
In the crisis of the black gloom
Evenings start gathering the stars
Nights slow down the dark descending
Doors greet the soft moon light touches
Sapphires seek to send the address
Hemming the time the blue needle
Instilling the drops of shadows
Pens pick up the friendship pictures
________________________________
May 2, 2018
NEW POEMS ONLY - 2 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
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