Irksome Poems

The Tutu and the Gown: A Fairy's Dilemma

Roaming in the corridor,
The fairy chuckled,
Mesmerized by the beauty of her own dress,
She grew self-assured in her little fairy school.

The multi-colored tutu,
inlaid with wild flowers;
Rivaled her silver sandals,
Which gleamed like her sparkling wings behind.

Then came the final day,
Bidding farewell to her tiny realm,
She moved ahead.

With sadness and excitement intertwined,
She decided to work through,
Until she became the best.

The moment she stepped into the real world,
She realized,
The tutu she wore was nowhere near the fairy gowns.
The praise and love she once received had faded into lies.
Maybe the tutu she wore was the best tutu, but not the best gown.

Carrying the weight of sudden change,
She still chose to enhance her tutu’s grace.
She rushed to the fashion store and cheerfully exclaimed:
"Get me the Cancan underskirt, fabric and shimmery pearls packed!"

The seller shot her an irksome look,
and Demanded fifty golden bricks.

The helpless fairy turned hopeless,
For she could have earned those bricks—
Only if she had a fluffy gown dress.

L M N O P Q R S T

Light larkish lackadaisical lassie lithe and lean
Measured Mesopotamia’s millionth mammoth, not all mean
Nonetheless, noticing the level of lithium in a coffee bean,
Opposing ornery ocelots who are seldom city seen

Providing palatable parables to Patty, platypus who loves to preen
Quarreling with irksome quail-herders who captivated lassie’s queen
Resisting relatives reaching for gardenia’s gruesome globs of green
Stalwart soldiers seriously slicing sluggishness from a computer screen.

Beware the Ol' Schnozz

Beware if you find yourself in a dark dank place
You may become the prey of Old Schnozz Face
Don't bother spraying him with a can of mace
He's a Vampiric creature of the Mosquito race

I detest the sound of his buzz buzzing in my ear
When in bed, that irksome droning sound I hear
That long needle nose is a grotesque thing to fear
I'd put something in his bag that came from a pee'er!

"Mosquito Man, why do you bother wearing pants?"
His reply came across as more angry whirring rants.
If their needles break, can mosquitoes get implants?
He just landed on a painting, one of my Rembrandts

It's way past time for me to put this skeletal pest away
The plan I have in mind will put an end to him, I pray
I've been bitten and harassed for the last time today
I'm taking out the big gun to fry him with a gamma ray!

Socrates' Sacrifice

In the agora or out on the street
Wherever public figures I did meet
In conversation I loved to engage
Only to find my  questions would enrage
I chipped and chipped at their exterior
Their words hollow with no interior
My young disciples would heartily laugh
At my victims' unease and ev'ry gaffe
My deft manner of the question  quizzical
Drove them to plot a bitter reprisal
My daemon urged me to expose deceit
My mission became to puncture conceit
Fake news my furious foes spread about
And brought me to court my campaign to rout
Charged with corrupting Athenian youth
In defence I spoke nothing but the truth
They turned a deaf ear  and they paid no heed
So inflamed were they by  this irksome deed
The verdict of guilty came as no shock
My sentence-to die by drinking  hemlock
They hoped I would flee this condemnation
I chose to keep the laws of my nation
To the shame of Athens, I preferred death
Affirming my content with my last breath
In my drinking of the draught down, they saw
How much I honoured the virtue of law.

Let the Cowboys be, in pastures new!

Cowboys
Let the cowboys be…
Let them tend to causes....genuine and real
To bequeath…an opportunity to be authentic.
To bequeath…a shot at redemption
To weed the errant and replant in ravines, chasms
In pastures new…
….the errant cowboys, 
…..burdensome, irksome, oppressive…too much
….for sale, with privileges too plentiful
…..the ones acting out.. avaricious mode aplenty
……one too many errors 
……. lives not to be trampled upon
………let the cowboys be, in bountiful pastures new! 
Perhaps some coffee beans to sweep away the pain
The angst caused by servings of callous, and cruelties untold

The Fox

Once a fox was lost in the field;
No shelter, friends, nor food to yield!
His fending hope has lastly keened,
But stood once more when prey he gleaned...

There he melded with flocks of sheep,
Dealing and coping with their keep;
Hardly bids to maintain his guise,
Yet still a fox behind those eyes!

He has sampled reed grass, at least,
Though fox despised such meager feast;
Athirst he was for blood and flesh—
The fox's hunt proved fruitless, fresh.

Then he crept at night, so sullen,
Watched his cozy troupe, heart swollen;
With eyes so wild, his mask now falls,
And all his care breaks castle walls!

He tried to curb his morbid crave,
But nature's call he could not stave;
And within a breath, off he gave—
A savage slaughter none could save!

His lethal claws that pierced through flesh,
His irksome fangs of crimson mesh;
The fox that once ate grassy fare,
Now dwells in dreams of dark nightmare!

The fox reveled, now bloody fed;
All took place as his hunt had led.
The fox is glad, the sheep lie dead—
Away he prowls, new prey ahead...

An Onomatopoeia Morning

It started with the beeping of my clock.
Sometimes I want to bash that irksome thing.
My dog barked for his food and then a walk.
While walking him, my cell phone went brring brrring.
I passed some school girls chattering away
like chirping birds. Back to my house I went
to feed the cats that mewed without delay.
I grunted next. My bills had gone unsent.
To mail them I zoomed off inside my car.
It rained. Outside my car I had to slosh
through puddles with no boots on. Great! Har har.
I splashed back to my car, and oh my gosh,
someone had whammed into my new car’s door.
I nearly bawled. Not even noon – what more?

The Crimson Sunset Arising Over The Wind-Swept Moor

No harmful or irksome thoughts
stir this mind to absolute madness,
and away from annoying, frequent sounds: 
only peacefulness soothes irritated senses;
I may fall asleep and dream 
in a state of false reality,
letting the fanciest fantasy
enter the bloodstream!

The crimson sunset arising over the wind-swept moor 
alleviates the mood of daily woes such as this murmur; 
the torrid day, unlikely a dry desert, gives into a cool breeze:
nothing is heard above and under but the shrilling of a geese!

All the joyous smiles flashed by others were missed by me,
and the craving was stuck into my throat unable to spit it out
and feel the relief I needed to carry me through a painless night;
firebugs aren't pretty butterflies, they glow and suddenly flee!

Traditional Fairytale

A poor little girl's gone missing,
Where's the knight to rescue her,
There he is and he's insisting,
He will find poor little Blair.

First he found a treacherous lake,
Full of sirens so alluring,
Slaying them was a piece of cake,
And the bloody screams reassuring.

After sweet song came a homely village,
Full of helpful denizens aplenty,
They'd seen no girl so the knight did pillage,
Taking all til the town was empty.

With plunder from the raided village,
Was he ready to face the dragons visage,
The third hurde to be overcome,
Was real difficult, how irksome.

The dragon was immortal but slain,
Incapacitated for a bit, killed in vain.
To the girl the knight ran,
Justifying all that he had done.

The girl turned and her face was gone,
She'd no mouth with which to sing a song,
Her limbs were thin as twigs,
Her starved body as heavy as bricks.
The fire in her eyes was gone as well,
With no strength left to quell.

She was too far gone he said,
About her they didnt have to worry,
Off and rolling went her head,
The killing was a mercy.

Perception - Mirror

The beauty you see in me is a reflection of you- Rumi
                          (Picture: 2)


What is beauty?

It’s a knotty problem to be solved.

Does it hide in our faces? Thoughts?

In our actions?  Or in our achievements?

Snow shielded ground is a setback for many beasts

But not for a polar bear

I felt the rainy day irksome.

When I walked with my fiancée in rain, I felt the rainy day awesome.

Where is beauty?

Perception matters, doesn't it?


Place: 14th

Personal Profundity

Three men sit in a room.

One is incredibly smart.

Another has common sense.

The third has only a pen, a mirror, and the irksome desire to be profound.

He, I am sure, is the poet.

Brown Sauce Blues

Now I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
You can keep your marmalades
Jams and your various spreads
Just give me  a  bottle of HP sauce
Cos I’d rather have that instead
Not served in a plastic bottle cos
At times they can suddenly spurt
And before you really know it
You have sauce all over your shirt.

No, served  from a glass bottle 
It flows in a steady  stream
That mixes with your hot butter
To provide a culinary dream.
You can keep your haute cuisine 
Because what I enjoy the most
Is lashings of hot butter mixed with
The brown sauce  on me toast
They looked at me in horror 
Breakfasting at this posh caff
And one of them had cheek
To just stand there and laugh

And then to make doubly sure
Me and me habits weren’t seen
They went and put me table
Behind a large folding screen
I find it rather irksome that
The breakfast  for which I lust
Is regarded by so many as a 
Habit of loathsome disgust.
No, I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.

Demotion

He drew the drapes, nothing caught his eye
it seemed that yesterday had replicated itself,
only today it had chosen a deeper of gray tint.

On balance, it could have been
the color of stale puke, for the night
had up-chucked its darkness into a
sickly yellow
morning bucket of bile.

Examining his mind, he ascertained by
the laborious task of magnifying
the inconsequential
that he was not clinically depressed
just bored.

Later that day he bought a black puppy,
to remind himself that he was apparently
no longer the center of the universe,
a position he had held
to be inviolate until now.
The demotion was irksome.

He took the French Bulldog to Walmart,
claiming loudly that it was a service animal
for he had need of a dumb friend.

His new dumb friend peed on him
in the candy aisle
and generally acted like it was the center
of the universe, a notion reinforced
by its many casual admirers.

That dog was having a great day,
and by the next day he felt it was quite acceptable
to be its little helper and general factotum,
for it absolutely beats
trying to play God 7 days a week
and no day of rest.

If

If I was once a kid 
Flying the street like ace
Hiding under the bed as shield 
Be a black sheep to what is right
Indeed, no stage is constant.

If I was once a heart breaker 
Irksome like a willful goat 
Later regarded as the nicer 
Showing the younger what is good 
Hmm! There is still good from your bad.

If I was once a jinxed 
Identified as black egg from fowl 
But now fortunately blessed 
Standing as mirror to people
Absolutely, no condition is stable.

Stop! Oh my dears 
Think right to wipe your tear’
Accept that your time is near 
Be happy! The black cloud will clear 
You're not the first to be in the stage.

Irksome Frivolity

The awful insignificance of history
is laid bare by the titillating lightness
and frivolous form of our real lives.

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