A hundred million poems in a single space,
Myriad sunflower seeds spread the place,
Each one a story to unfold,
Made by souls with lives untold.
Five hundred and fifty thousand coloured Lego dots,
The ceramic spouts of two hundred thousand pots,
The steel from ruins of a deadly quake,
A company named Fake.
Your reality is jokey but I can’t ignore
That it shouts a truth oft spoken before.
It makes a link we instantly know
And then the memory is forever so.
You challenge power fearlessly
Yet change your argument endlessly.
"We see everything and we don’t see anything.”
But making sense, you show us something.
Categories:
jokey, appreciation, art, integrity, truth,
Form: Light Verse
ONTOLOGY
Water drips from the hairs on my arms, hands
held high to avoid contamination. I can’t wait
to begin. I guess this Adrenalin rush is what an actor feels
before he strides on stage. A nurse helps me don
my gown. I pull on my gloves. Surgeon, king of my domain.
Minions adjust the mirrored overhead light. I grasp my scalpel.
Fractured images explain the process to juniors. Jokey. Calm.
I’m floating on the easy insouciance of experience. My patient’s
elective surgery’s wasn’t serious. But my satisfied smile morphs into
emergency paddles. A flat line – cardiac arrest. Attempts to revive
him fail. I curse, jolted by this unexpected loss. Nothing to warrant
my sense of guilt. And how might I explain to his devastated family?
The theatre doors burst open. His wife, wild-eyed. Shouting. My
husband came to me in the waiting-room. Out of his body. Saying
you think he’s dead. Doctor, do something… Before we can hustle her
out, my patient’s pulse resumes beating. It doesn’t make sense.
Colour rushes back into his face. Nothing makes sense.
Categories:
jokey, 10th grade, body, caregiving,
Form: Free verse
A TYBURN COMMENT
~~~~~~~~
funny,
smiley,
happy,
jokey,
a funny Tyburn makes me smiley,
so happy to read a jokey one!
Categories:
jokey, fun, happy, humorous,
Form: Tyburn
Me like a speck in the gizzard of mother earth,
Sitting coldly, my short time, waiting to be grind,
Didn't I wear any power? embracing odd of all unpleasant kind,
My faith like dry pumpkin, hanging on top of grandma's hearth.
I watch the cloud go crazy, but can't scold,
For, am already drenched more than a Hippo in the sea,
The sun stings like bee,
For, it has been tortured, upon me to grow cold.
Jokey dance of wilful whirlwind,
My fearless heart, before me zoomed away,
Maybe declared in this garden, to be king only " in the castle of my mind"
For, builders of earth now the cruellest aliens fighting my kingly way.
Whether, am only a lusty dust, waiting for soil tribute, to pay,
Jehovah himself has the final say.
Categories:
jokey, inspirationalme,
Form: Sonnet