I remember shooting marbles during recess time.
There were puries, tiny worlds of milky blindedness.
Big heavy steelies, bearings from salvaged, derelict machines,
Hematite cores of some new known planets.
And cats' eyes with color-filled center swirls.
I horded them in a sweat darkened leather pouch.
A drawstring puckered shut this purse's mouth.
Sanctioned by an adult playground guard:
Risking all for a marble that you want,
You might lose the marble you liked best.
Until marbles everything was
A sideshow midway carnival arcade
With plastic ducks you paid to overturn
And received a prize of a number underneath.
Everybody won.
Years count fewer and fewer ducks
And more and more the marbles grow. (8/3/22)
When I was born
the light was in other people’s eyes.
warm hands coddled
spills of milky mew-shaped thirsts
dabbed at my whiteboard mind.
I began to wink the world into shapes;
as a new Loosely fleshed presence
I turned listless in the blood-warm bud.
Early things showed up to crowd my eyes,
back-lit beings leaned over a bar of sound,
spoke in warm froth.
Nameless images came and went
red and yellow plastic spheres and beakers
some had mouths to sooth raw and runty wonders,
all as incomprehensible as a wet nose.
Then that light-box of undeveloped things
fell apart only to come together;
I saw the garb of perception
arise from a fitting room floor.
A wind-tossed leaf entered my empty stage
green was no longer a shadow crossing
a white faceless backdrop.
There I was,
an early thing, gathering yeast
for an as yet un-kneaded brain
watching and sorting visions of returning caregivers,
and the nameless similitudes
that sometimes cooed, or that passed-by me
latter to be horded, made to be
countable.
English Three Verse Haiku Poem (c)
So much of all things
Had he, of gold, silver, pearls.
He never gave a
Thing away…the poor
From him got naught… He horded
All he ever got.
He lived a miser...
Death saw all his wealth pass to
Another niggard.
W.C.Hull © 2020-18-4-H1343-
2453-I50-K50-29-L56-2
Bobby and Dot, are playing well together today.
Without stomping and hiding
till the other swells and mommy realizes, she has to break
up a rumble, they’re fighting, cage ready display.
What’s going on Bobby and Dot?
Mommy then stops, and she spots chunks of ceramics. THE VASE.
So now Bobby and Dot, know they have to
bob and then dodge fore’ a dot is four eyes for the top of, horded lies, lets race.
my dreams were not meant to be caught
nor horded to be worshiped in secret
No, no "Dream Catchers" for me
my dreams fly free
from the recesses of my mind
where they are caught
in my internal "dream catcher"
which was meant to bind
for fear that should they escape
and materialize into reality
they'd be ridiculed and abused
misused by the confused
who do not even know
what a dream was meant to be
they'd vaporize and die
there before my very eyes....
from this very place, they rise
freedom bound
unbound
they seek the skies
Aurora displayed to be found....
"Dream Catchers" are not for me...
I am the Dream Dispatcher
You heard me....
the dream and reality Matcher,
I'm the dream scheme of success Catcher
the "ride the wave" Snatcher
taste ebullience Latcher
Dream stuck to catcher...
Detacher
Yes....that's me
Dreams were meant to fly free
Transience of life
has made me see
There is no other way for me
to be
"Dream Catchers" are for fools,
and I surely am not one of those
Are You?
Eileen Manassian
Family, friends struggle to transcend
a never ending battle to cope,
life drowns in a spiraling trend,
descending a viral slippery slope.
Irritable, confident, shifty and brash,
every morning begins with prayer.
Horded bottles of secretive stash
a surreal loss, in motionless stare.
Chosen path of a conscience feud,
torn from dreams of success,
persistently fueling a loathed mood,
chained to a fermented process.
Each day continuously frequented,
emotionless movements left unrelented.
The Cleverest Sin
.........................................................of them all is
Vanity
That mankind’s propensity
To take pleasure in
All the aspects of our creativity
Achievement and praise therein
For its own ingenuity
Can be and more often
is
Classed
As
Vanity
Clever church
Artful religion
In its conquest of out spiritual destiny
To accuse us at every turn
Of the Sin of Vanity
To accuse us
Of the Sin of Vanity
In all its pomp gold glittering ceremony
In all its wealth and horded money
In all its verbiage preached
To claim knowledge of
The works and mind of GOD
It, the church, has the sheer AUDACITY
To accuse US
Of VANITY
Dictatorial policies
A foot in the mouth
Of mankind’s GOD GIFTED divinity
………………………………………and we’ll forget about gluttony, greed and avarice; sloth, anger and pride.
We’ll forget about those for awhile.
Let it be known that Arthur Sly
Was caught red handed and sentenced to die
For he trespassed and stole fine things
Like loaves of bread, diamonds, and rings
This urchin of Satan horded all
And the others to answer his call
This gangsters hideout was well concealed
Till we tortured his mates to seal the deal
No matter how slight he might be in years
His mind is best amongst his peers
To rid us of this Haynes threat
Let him be hung by the neck!
The date is uncertain of this jest
My magistrates motives are blotchy at best
He says there is more and wishes to show
Her majesties guest at the ball in snow
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