TRUMP SMIRKS CARNEY WORKS
CARNEY WILL NOT DEAL WITH JERKS
AND TRUMP IT DOES IRKS
She is a walking juxtaposition:
Amicable qualities dressed in futility, far-fetched pictorial in a living illustration, painstakingly carefree—a telltale tribulation.
Ambivalence irks aptitude.
Foreshadowing scurries in a frenetic gambit, a stratagem of the devil himself.
This oddity is a fleck, resurgent in its nature—a drop of dew, a grain of sand.
Do all you must to bait her,
debate her.
Commotion, admonish, plaudit.
The audacity of her tacit agreements.
Such abysmal fervor could be the making of a luminary.
Minister in England, professor of philosophy, Alan Watts
elusive and mystical storyteller connected all ephemeral dots
Pre-eminent interpreter of Eastern thought and religion
Yells “exactly!” as I dose off, awaking me, irks just a smidgen
Onward its sandy ways'
Smooth-rolled invite
Trace, what is of twists full
Irks, if playful.
Till of that, now back up
Heard to boom is
Of all a welcome's shout
Gladdest laughed out.
In the sweet spring air,
We love a long walk.
I fancy he listens
As I blabber and talk.
I playfully sigh
Once we come in the door —
Someone’s muddy paws
Have painted the floor.
In the hot summer air,
We drive to the beach.
He pulls off my flip flop,
And runs out of reach.
As dusk settles in,
He nips at a firefly;
While never successful,
He loves to just try.
In the brisk fall air,
I need time to breathe,
But he begs, “one more time,
Throw my ball to retrieve!”
When I bring out the pumpkin,
He wants his fair share.
I say, “down boy, down!”
But he acts unaware.
In the cold winter air,
Snow lands on his face . . .
Just a second of calm —
Then a squirrel to go chase!
Only back inside does he now shake off,
Melting snow and frost cascading.
I groan but deep down I know:
What makes his personality his own
Are his quirks and irks,
Misdeeds and misleads,
Imperfection but true affection,
That I would, of course, never consider trading.
As so many shoppers
consistently doing all manner of wrong
fail to return their trolleys
from whence they came to where they belong
it really irks when I leave work
drive my hybrid to the supermarket
circle the car park for what seems hours
and can't find a place to park it
the question may seem odd to some
and yet I have to ask it
why don't those self-same lazy people
do to it what they'd do with a shopping basket
On fruitless life how long dwell on should I?
On needless strife how long dwell on should I?
Let me salute my foe’s fairest friendship,
On faults and gripe how long dwell on should I?
That far off dweller we fail to follow,
His irks so rife-- how long dwell on should I?
On her dreams to flower that have faded--
On bud not ripe how long dwell on should I?
Despite my lifelong love who twirls her face,
On such a wife how long dwell on should I?
______________________________
Ghazal |03.07.2025| life, heartbroken
A ghazal fashioned on one in Gujarati by Harsh Brahmabhatt-- nakam zindagi pe socha karenge kab tak.
I won't be long, I'll just tell ya all this..So you don't get me
Wrong.' If you look back on my writes you will see, when in
Great concern I made prophesy.' I said the generals are all
Bought.' Or In Aussie this would not be so.' I spoke now we need
A colonel, and by God it was so.' I don't care who you' my
Countrymen decide to back.' As long as they are not the
Four delinqient parties, I've got yer backs.' Yet as it goes
With me..An God being true.' I stand with Australia one.. If
That is alright with youse.? I'll warrant Riccardo would be
Truthfull enough.' And he knows how to tough it when things become rough.' Now I cant vote in person that irks
Me a lot.' So could you cast a few for me? If so my thanks you'll have got.' Take back the country.' That belongs to you
As this side of ( the black stump.) Know my heart
Is fully focused on you all true.!
A Shepherd's Day by Suzanne Alexander (SA)
Wee, from East then West!
Seen one side then Next.
Feel a beautiful day, start is laid
Sjoe, from sting of Ray.This said,
Baa, from Ewe - distinct face!
Moor from one side at annex she graze,
Aye mi smeel yummy scone buttered.
Lighe nam lips whilst I muttered.
Shoo, splish-splash rain came unforseen
raining stairs of rods clearly seen
soil exposed with heathered bole
the red pigment irks the soul.
Ewe, come, sinn cùm sàbhailte!
to the huge bole hole, wee time, to shed.
Close jist ower the way so near,
baa, from rascal Mule , mi clu from ear.
C' mon ye little mule so blue
Safe its here by bole used as hue.
The noo! Mule. He came then settled.
Jack Snipe seen in marsh nestled.
Far in the distance a thunderclap
Meat today with pap.
With money earned just a little.
and hands brittle.
As the rain drops snipes my face,
Content I am to run , this race
Yet a sadness for unfair wage
But joyful not being in a cage.
Day, from graft then came night
Hame my manor is in sight.
Safe the ewe and mule I put,
aye, that'll dae. Day in tear and joy shut.
No one nor you, me love, be free from flaws,
A flaw endears more than it ever irks,
It sounds strange, dimple a dire flaw ere was,
Life comes alive with foibles, whims and quirks.
A mortal life and faultless? Holy Grail,
A perfect head and heart in faultless flesh,
Is not it too much of an obscure tale?
Perfection’s a pathless pursuit, no dash.
If a thing of art has to be alive,
Forget the fault of faultless offering,
Whence ye think a ray of light would arrive
If there's no crack nor yet an opening?
I love you dear nigh just as ye have been,
A-perfect-you makes you nigh but machine.
_______________________________________
Sonnet | 07.08.2018 | beauty, perfection
Poet’s note: Imagine a couple in conjugal bed and discussing. The lady seems too keen to have a word from her husband describing her as one with no flaw. The man tries to bring home the point that a thing of beauty is always alive like Nature, and yet cannot be perfect like say a machine-made art. Nature is beautiful despite its subtle imperfections.
Let me tell all what is real.' That there are those
Who your lives; would steal' and lies do love
Yet more to degrade; to slap others faces
In retrograde, who count how long or short the
Time, they will allow; the rest of humankind.!
They own so many temporal things it irks my
Mind i feel the sting, I surmise it now.? Yet inside
I know..That ( tic tok )9 is run by 'the w h o' its not
Chinese as time will tell, yet it is a part of the plan
From hell.' No virus came from China either it just
To elude our reason..To mither..' I warn you all I
Hope you'll heed.? Stand clear don't allow lucifers
Seed to be sown in your spirits or minds.' Their end
Dosn't tarry yet it slumbers a bit.' Till those of evil are
Full with it.' They will inherit from the wage of sin
They shut the door to Jesus and would deny you
Also to go in, yet they have no lasting power i say.'
Turn and call on Jesus this God made day.' Who alone
All doubt and confusion dispells, whos name your lips
Can praise and tell.' Into your heart accept His Love
Converse with our father, who is above all principalitys
Every rule, escape from deception be no longer fooled.
A rage of weather is tethered to my ribs,
held by a soulful feather, silent as a dead foe.
It will totter to tatters but
always get better, but
always gets wetter.
It is a feather that irks the ribs,
bothers the heart, lures the throat to a close, and
sucks damp air from between my fettered ears.
It is a feather that can never untether
this rage in my head or
else it would burn,
burn, burn
to a
crisp.
In the frame of grim dusk the shapes curved of wolf bark,
Out of the iron gate a man tall in grey cloak
appears still on the hill looming large in the dark,
he comes down as the grips of the night firmly choke.
Thin arms stretched, in the air he’s afloat like a bird,
as the moon rises high in slow pace in the sky,
when he drifts, he’s the Count, thus all old people heard,
as he stands at my door, to be bold, so I try.
Eerie night’s blue haze thick covers long ashen face,
red eyes glare, all the fangs protrude through bloody lip.
I do fail to escape, see myself in chill brace,
I hear him whisper cold, “your hot blood I will sip”.
I then freeze to the core when descends Hallows’ dusk,
fearsome scene irks me still by fun fright, man in mask.
________________
November 15, 2022
Syllable count checked at HMS
Contest : All Hallows' Evening
Sponsored by : Craig Cornish
Oh! Earth why are thou despondent?
What ails you?
Oh! Earth why are thou troubled?
What irks you?
Why do thou sit in despair?
Rise,
Be of good cheer,
Better days lie ahead,
Thy beauty returns to you,
Thy weary sons will be strengthened,
Thy dying offspring will be revived again,
Flora and fauna will sing melodious tunes,
None will be afraid of his neighbour,
The mighty will aid the feeble,
The strong will prop the weak,
Thy elements will come to you in peace,
They will wear changed garments,
Oh! Earth don’t fret,
Thy glory days come to you shortly,
They come to you in steady flights.
June 15, 2022,
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.
A quirk
there lurks
Unmurked
It irks
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