Image # 1
My dear grandpop and grandma pop
Took a short vacation
I remember how my mom felt
Full of frustration
Mom depended on them so much
Babysitters were they
Days, nights and weekends were at play
They were supposed to stay
Grandma got so hot and went pop
Lost weight, wore stilettos
She changed from an older grandma
Studied all librettos
We were all surprised that she changed
She wanted a new name
Grand-maman she insisted fit
The children thought it lame
So, they still called her grandma pop
With new friends, it didn't fit
They weeded her out of their group
Now she bakes cake and knits
Also reads stories; does her part
To instill within each child
What is most important for them
To live life undefiled
The sky didn’t open—you did.
That’s what He said.
And suddenly, silence stopped pretending it was empty.
Eyes locked to an alien like it was trendy—
But the alien was memory, dressed in something friendly.
A silent scream’s polka-dotted bow tie is world-endly.
He offered me a mirror wrapped in a question gently.
It read:
“If you’ll let me? Lay still and let me rock your world.”
But I had earthquakes in my chest I never learned to hurl.
I don’t know if he got my letter,
but I sent one back—
Written in breath,
sealed in a panic attack.
It read:
“If I am the curtain…
then who pulled me back?”
Illusory energy, you steal my thunder,
Turned me into static so you’d feel like wonder.
Truth knits a sweater of desire,
But leaves the tag on, tangled in the wire.
Return policy reads:
“No refunds for souls that chose silence over schemes.”
This curtain is yours,
when you return to your dreams.
Just knock twice
on the seam
where the fabric still breathes
Miles past the nightstand
over the plastic water bottle.
the Ambien pill dispenser
and the soul-bruised eye shades.
An arrhythmic clock
knits needles of silence together.
Turning on the lampshade,
its circle of yellow light
attaches itself to my night-blanked face.
a damp mattress
molding heavy thoughts
that struggle to climb
dream-tossed blankets.
On its four arthritic legs,
the nightstand's
tour of duty continues
patrolling
one old man's conflict
with doubt and faith.
"winter knits her forest with frost as the wind chimes . . ."
Quote by _A. Weiland Crosby
winter is a tapestry of wonderous scenes
with all the hues of bare trees and evergreens
consider the tiny sparrow ...
many can rest on winter branches narrow
as snow falls beyond and frost covers their winter forest
gathering together for warmth is this tiny bird modest
Fire burning, keeps me warm
While outside brews a big snowstorm
Now all I need to be complete
Are knitted socks upon my feet
I thought I'd have them on by now
I'd knit my own but don't know how
Will you teach me how someday?
We'll stay in bed and knit away
An afternoon spent spinning yarns
Of different colors into forms
I think the way I'd like to start
Is knitting you a small red heart
A place to put your hot coffee
To rest your mug on comfortably
My first attempt, it may take long
Don't laugh though if I get it wrong
I want to do the things you do
So I can spend more time with you
I'm pretty good at crafting rhymes
But other things? I'm dense at times
Be patient please, I'll come along
It's like the learning of a song
Note by note, chord by chord
Verse by verse, word by word
I'll get it though, it sounds like fun
Teacher-student, one on one
Needles, patterns, knits and purls
My heart knit for a special girl
Matthew McGrory of Westchester, Pennsylvania
has the world’s largest feet.
He stands seven foot six.
His shoe is a twenty-eight and a half.
Converse company makes shoes especially for him.
He cannot buy socks though,
So his mother knits his socks.
Birds
care not
for whom they
sing, as beneath
skies of flickering
flowers and diamond dews~
we follow merlot wine rays..
For between steel dusk and bronze dawn,
where shadows of silent sonnets flow
we are all petals of imperfection
sharing the same sun glazed in honeyed hope~
that floats from purple hued pansies to~
ebony buds, wrapped in lilac
love and wisteria warmth,
like a blue bouquet of,
blissful butterflies
fluttering inked~
poetry
to the
stars
and
soul of
the rose moon,
mirroring his
selfless silhouette
forever calming the
freckled ripples of grieving
seas, tonight my heart knits rhymeless
pleas in saffron syllables, wishing
his gemini garden will glow and thrive…
Dear guys,do you know one curious thing?, The tiny creatures always do wonders, A mouse makes a hole in a mighty hill , Brave beavers build dams and control rivers, A bee gathers honey from more flowers, Active ants form a line mark on stone rocks, The tech termites build an aeration mounds, Mud fish makes a hole in mud by its mouth, Strong spider knits a wide web to catch flies, Honey badger doesn't wait to attack beasts, Humming birds are acrobatic flyers, Only butterfly has the scaly wings, Don't try to pollute the planet earth, And stop the tiny creatures to be extinct.
CROWN THE KING
Kendrick, king of kinetic kinesis,
Kaleidoscopic knowledge knits keenest.
Kindled by Compton's kinetic flame,
Keen verses vie for victory, acclaim.4
Knightly in kendo of kindred beats,
Keeps a killing calmness under knit sheets.
Kicks, knuckles, knockouts off his notes,
His knavish knacks, knight-errant floats.8
King of the craft, crowned in creative conquest,
Kendrick the keystone, like Kinta Kunte's quest.
The keeper of keys to kingdoms is K.Dot,
Kindhearted kinfolk, Kenny is kinetically hot.¹²
Kendrick's alter ego kits Kung-Fu Kenny,
Kdot's "6:16 in LA" & "Not Like Us" impressed many.
Kendrick's career-spanning series of the same name
Keeps Kung-Fu Kenny kitted-up in the rap game.¹6
Kaleidoscope king, keep kindling the art.
Crown King Kendrick, he who's carved apart.¹8
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Alliteration
Copyright ©?11th May, 2024.
Afloat in a river of stars,
Ecstasy knits the raft of thoughts,
A destination is what I seek,
Sailing away mindlessly, expecting the waters to speak.
The water calmly paves the way ahead,
As the fog of disturbance clears.
Hesitation takes bravery’s stead,
A detour that feeds on our fears.
Darkness fills the air,
It shadows the glorious sheen.
The magnificent aurora- my trail ahead,
Now had been swept off the scene.
Left with no light and soul within,
An icy breeze blankets this shell of mine.
Out speaks a voice so thin,
‘Endings are where new things begin.’
The sky and the earth gave witness to your birth.
Sun smiles and Moon nods, while you build your life on Earth.
Now you are already Eight in age; may you reach the late adulthood stage.
While you march the path of life, don’t forget al-Akhirah, your afterlife.
Save pleasant memories, they are your chest of treasuries.
Learn from life lessons, knits sent you to guide from the heavens.
Sometimes you have to let go, other times go with the flow.
These eight years have been awesome, yet your life is about to blossom.
Great Aunt Rosa knits and crochets,
but lately it's gotten carried away.
bigger and better she'll delightfully say,
while the rest of the family is left in dismay.
It's more than just a color display,
her nimble fingers have gone quite astray,
the biggest project is now underway,
a riotous monster whose name is Sir Ray.
It fills up the house, we moan and we pray,
what else can we do; we must move away,
then Rosa and Ray forever in play
will welcome the pixies, the gnomes, and the fae.
A snaking mouth sloughs two spines,
the rattle of small vertebrae
and delicate teeth.
A woman learns to ride them, feels
the trombone slide of a dragon’s tail.
A man lifts tugging fingers,
not wanting to fumble
as ill-illuminated aluminum rails
bite.
The zipper knits together lusts
or shuns and strips a thought away.
Body bags become bodily prayers.
It is a widening gash gleaming -
lip-gloss for unpainted desires.
Zippers may squeeze a tight throat,
or close an open face.
Buttons are collected or lost,
though once in a while rescued
from a box of other tangled trinkets.
Nestled
in her old chair-
world outside her window
and indoor plants, a sign of life-
she knits.
Fingers
work their magic-
grant her moments purpose;
then reminiscing years gone by-
tears flow.
There was this old lady, drinking soup
She was also knitting, loop by loop
She ran out of yarn
Screamed and said- "Oh Darn!"
Started dunking needles in ball hoop!
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