Impeccably Poems

Mervin's room via Jackson Hewitt, Lake Huron

Mervin's room via Jackson Hewitt, Lake Huron

My dear Nay few!
My dear shenanigan floating near Shenandoah
Let us make a trip itinerary around the upcoming December
For the longest word where she sang for long, so long
Even a patsy like me denied the intervention
Not to repeat the Meriam , as they sung , unsung, a faded croon
For years too long enduring a morning, a bay boon.

Bonjour! 

October 26, 2024

Shanandoah is a place poem.
December is a month
Meriam is a Thesaurus pal
Before the L section in Babylon

Please watch out after twenty past chapter four!
Oracle, are you impeccably manual?

Carpe Diem

You will see me alone, dining.
Always near a window
Watching people hurrying outside,
Or well-dressed patrons
Frequenting the five-star diner,
My favourite eating place.
Alas always alone.

Still one lady, impeccably dressed
Always visited the place every Saturday.
And always with a different escort.
I wondered who she was,
But I could hardly ask her, could I?

Her escorts seemed rich and elegant.
Not that I was shabbily dressed.
But I was not the handsome type.

Then one day she came in alone.
She had no escort as she ordered her food.
What could I do?  I approached her meekly
And asked for her company.
"Finally, you came," she smiled.
We never dined alone from then on.

FICTION

Ohh dear grandma!

Ohh dear Grandma! 
I love your 'papadum'
I miss the time when you offered me to come
With you at the porch
When the sun had scorched
To help you to knead, roll and flip
The papadum which had a habit to slip
From those tiny little hands of mine
And so you told me to arrange them in a line
Ohh dear Grandma! I miss that time.... 
That time when..
When you sometimes got busy
I used to take a bite
Of that flavoursome dough in a way very quiet
Although it was not at all right
But I loved doing that when you were out of sight
Any other papadum couldn't compete the one which had ur hand's taste
Because on the theme of love and care it was based! 
Maybe I'm missing getting admonished by you
Because I'm fed up being praised
Your words which were impeccably true
Are what always comes in my mind 
when I miss the way how I was raised! 
when I miss how I was always saved
from the rage of my Dad by you
your words which mentioned that "He loves me as if without me his sky isn't blue"
Yeah! Those words were impeccably true! 
Ohh dear Grandma! Lot's of love to uhh!

Women In My Family

Women in my family 
Indeed, are rustic-looking and homely 
Wake up at four, of-course, with reluctance
Untie the cattle though with inner resistance
Wash each cow and buffalo so impeccably 
Remove the dung as though very faithfully
Bake cow-dung-cakes (for fuel) artistically 
See to the household drudgery altruistically
Six of them (as ours is a joint family) do not fail
Fight among them, for no reason, and even assail
Pick lice from each other's head, end-of-the-day
Forgetting all false enmities as though act of a play
Cooking, washing, child-rearing, tale-baring,
Sleep, cuddled together, tiredness overpowering...


24 June 2022 
Women in my family Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet

Where Did She Go - An Impossible Task

He never believed in love at first sight!
Spurious hogwash, or so he thought.
Yet he felt a magnetic fascination,
Seeing her alone, sipping a cool exotic drink,
Dressed impeccably in local folklore attire.
He was deeply attracted for she was
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

          He felt stirred by emotions supernal,
          Like a bee sucking nectar from every glamorous bloom.
          Nature unparalleled had a way to provoke him.
          Drinking at the bar, what was supposed to be
          One for the road, his next air flight.
          It was not to be.  He cancelled his trip home.

Back at the bar she was not to be seen.
Ah luckless love, what devious tricks it plays
On most poor mortals!  Had she not smiled at him?
Pierced his heart, provoked intoxication of love?
In his exalted admiration of her, he vowed: 
He would never leave until she's found.

He Gets Me

Paris, earlier today. It’s a (vaccinated) summer family reunion and I’m catching up with relatives I haven’t seen for AGES. Like my impeccably dressed (three piece suit on a warm, un-air-conditioned, Saturday) 83 year old great uncle.

We cheek kiss

“STILL searching for love, Uncle Remy?”

“Forget love. My dear, I’m an old, self-absorbed narcissist. What I look for is someone young and frivolous whose most complicated desire is fun - specifically fun that can be bought - that’s an important distinction.”

I gasp and pose. 

“You’re looking for MEEEE!,” I squeal.

“Oh, if I needed a spoiled, over-serious, temperamental, unappeasable rich girl - I’d think of you.”

“You GET me!,” *I beam with pride*

Some Poetry Is Crap

Writing poetry makes no sense at all
It springs out of nowhere and travels into nothing ness
Lemons are nines and wildcats are chickens
Metaphoric twists have my stomach in knots
Iambic pentameter makes me want yell
Dammit ‘er!

I fling things onto a page on Monday
That I do not recognize myself on Tuesday
Not sure which personality wrote it
Sometimes it is impeccably bad, and none claim it
Abecedarian is fun for me,
But makes no sense in any way
Still I do it.

Why?
Why not?
I have this high energy waiting to
run, bounce, jump, slap and play.
So I read flowery sonnets, and they give me pause
I have tried to write prissy, Shakespearean but it does not like me.
I don’t even like to read that crap.

Yes, some poetry is crap.
Some of it is marvelous, witty, funny, cheery and gay.
You can take that both ways
I do.
Poetry is something I fling onto a page
Some of my writing  I eat for breakfast
and some of it eats me.
It is as simple as that.

Plumage

*Image of Plume by Gfycat.

Plumage

A feather swims in a vagrant squall...reeling whilst plummeting,
Its burden then bobs impeccably...outstretched like some mushroom,
Pirouette spirals expel...trivial rippled waves ashore.

2020 June 07
*3rd Place*
BRIAN'S select E,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 June 12
*2nd Place*
Let the Pens Flow - Sijo
~~Jenish Somadas: Judged 2020 June 11

In Praise of Susan Ashley

S   he weaves her magic with every write
U   nforgettable verse, enchanting delights
S   onnets, collaborations, free verse, rhymes
A   stonishingly fresh imagery, pearls sublime
N   uanced romanticism, so delicate, so fine...

A   iming her Cupid's arrow straight at our hearts
S   teamy, sultry, sensual masterpieces of art
L   ove affairs exquisitely conceived and created
E   ach phrase, impeccably crafted, has lured and fascinated
Y   ou and me -- as we thrill to her wizardry, captivated

Well Dressed

Here lies Paddy, as usual impeccably dressed
            Let us all hope St Peter is suitably impressed


    4/14/19

The Importance of Words

Careless words cause hate

Careless words cause pain

Careless acts cause suffering

So think about what you do and say

Very carefully in everyday

Don’t allow others to decipher your words as hate

And us them to cause actions of death and decay

Because that’s living life the wrong way.

Live life speaking impeccable words

Think only impeccable thoughts

Act in impeccable ways

And they’ll be no more hate and pain

No needless suffering when we are impeccably acting

From the conscious mind and loving heart

We can create a better way

We can create much brighter days

Be impeccable please I pray.

Subdued

Subdued

Arrogant winter
Impeccably dressed in white
Nature is subdued

I Think I Get It Now

No therapist wanted to do any kind of counseling for B School, which to my home is quite near.
I was frankly bewildered that three of my friends, Susan, Tad, and Sun had told me they would never come back here.
B school looked lovely; the grounds were impeccably beautiful - flowers, wind spinners, and fountains with water ever so clear.
The reception area was colorful, welcoming, pretty even, a tribute to whoever designed it so dear.
I wondered why everyone I had spoken to who had been here hated it so, it was totally unclear.
The dean of students was lovely, smart, engaging, a good listener; a woman who seemed totally dear.
"I would like Tricia Tee take you around, "Dean told me, "So you can see what a ship-shape school we run here. 
We had no sooner got to the first locker when a child started to walk past, and I yelled,"Mere!"
My former student looked up, scared, frightened, mesmerized, unable to move, hypnotized by fear.
"That's a demerit for you, Mrs. K, and a demerit for Mere," Tricia said snippily, writing it down in a notebook she had near.
Um...
I think I get it now.

It Takes a Robot

When the veil of time’s lifted, you’ll see
that we’ve entered the year 2053
there’s a robot who’ll answer your door 
who is cheerful, delightful and more!

He’ll escort guests to comfortable seats
offer a variety of delectable treats
he’ll cook any fine food you’d think
or mix any imaginable drink. 

He’s attractive, impeccably dressed
looks more human than most of his guests!
never tires or moans or complains 
works harder than most could attain. 

Efficient is he with all tasks
knows all manner of subjects you ask
he’s as smart as a whip, you can see
that he makes excellent company. 

These “bots” are so perfect, in fact
they have everything we humans lack
except on occasions, when they
start to question the things that we say. 

And then there’s those times when they meet
unbeknownst to us, plot to defeat
humankind, in their brainiac way
a diabolical plan to foray. 

So beware when your robot retreats
to their ”village” where they gather and meet
for you never can know til you’ve heard
“bots” proclaim “We’ll take over planet earth!”





Written on 3/9/2018

My Friend

We’re close, my friend and I
He’s always impeccably dressed
Always a man to try
Even when I’m not at my best
He’s a constant companion
Whispering in my ear
Though his voice could be a battalion
It pleases him so to smear
My thoughts with his words
He rages and taunts 
His anger is a herd 
Of malicious wants 
He promises relief from pain
An easy rage
In the most obdurate way 
His words are a rampage
My friend, he’s fickle
A man of many threats
Whom at the slightest remark begins to prickle
Oftentimes he seems to have no assets
Oh, my counterpart
Whom laughs at fire with evil glee
In which resides the blackest heart
Is unfortunately, poor man, a part of me

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