Long Absentmindedly Poems
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I want to be
A part
Of your safe haven
Where I fill in
The chair next to you
Surrounded by your family
I want to see
How your face lights up
Making jokes and telling stories from work
And when you laugh
Your hand
pats my thigh
As our legs
Are intertwined
Underneath the kitchen table
I want to see
Your reaction
When I blush
After your mother
Asks what I like
about you
I’ll place my hand over yours
That are on my thigh
And I’ll tell her that
“He has shown me
That life can be
full of color
That a man’s hand
can be more
Than just a weapon
Cause when he drives
He absentmindedly holds mine
And kisses it
While I’m continuously glad
All the windows are down
To block out my heart racing
He has taught me
That simplicity
Holds more weight in our mind
Like how I have memorized
The creaks in our floor
On Friday nights
When he makes dinner
And I’m swaying my feet
From sitting on the counter
Or how I silently adore
Every move he makes
And try to hide the smile on my face
With a glass of wine
While wearing one of his old t-shirts
That now smells like me
He repeatedly has shown me
That hearts
Don’t have to falter with jealousy
Amidst the whispers
And constant smirks
From my past
Or the desperate beckoning
From girls
With lip gloss smiles
Cause he has pulled out
The chair next to him for me
In his safe haven
Where my blushing laughter
And stories from this household
Have created connections
He always entwines
his legs with mine
With his palm up on my thigh
Waiting patiently for my hand
Despite ever present
Scars on my left wrist”
And his mother can hear
the warmth
The thoughts covered in color
In my voice
Every time
I speak of him
171 E Swedesford Rd,
Unexpected positive experience
with regular totally tubular
gnarly patron first name Maureen
hmm... if only this burbling blurb
blog could somehow
be communicated - pro bono, cuz green
legal tender (mine) scarce -
anyway earlier
today December sixteenth
two thousand and nineteen
ah, my dog how serendipitously
I did germanely, modestly,
quintessentially shepherd convenient
rhyme with reason (hubble spontaneity)
three, five, eight, plus
this line thirteen...
(you get the idea, si?)
with eyes shut tight e'en
absentmindedly maneuvering "fake"
steering wheel, while zee queen
(think four foot eleven
spouse wearing spongebob
pajama pants) profusely thanked
police seeing eye dog approaching
and barking unforeseen
drove sitting on his haunches
on driver seat cop cruiser
smack dab nabbit
on our figurative docked toured tail
emulating crash test dummy
nearly didst almost careen
into our two thousand
and nine Hyundai Sonata
gave spouse faux paw high five
while flock of seagulls,
eagles, black crows...,
attired with red and green
holiday outfits suddenly appeared clean
(white hove out blizzard)
out of thin air nearly collided
with our self driving
automobile I amazingly
gratefully dodged tween
twenty plus miles north east
back to Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania, where this mean,
(once lean twice shy)
poetry (aye sup prose) writing machine,
now exuberant poet hoping
to garner (no bull lariat) keen
punny hush meant toward anybody
including trumpeting mujahedeen
hoot aches objection, which
courtesy self typing keyboard really
cool and groovy power
(smart thinkpad) reads my mind
pressing corresponding key visible
on Lenovo external large screen.
Many many years from now on a busy morning,
suddenly for a moment Mallika my name in your mind,
it will force you to stop and look at the sky
and from your heart will come out a deep sigh,
memories of love,
suddenly so fresh like a 'dewed' morning rose
remembering your lost love again
absentmindedly you will touch my last gift with moist eyes,
"love thy name is eternity"
your fingers will follow this line on that bone china vase,
I know time will go slow though tears will flow faster
and I will be nowhere
near you "before the next teardrop falls",
only my memories closer,nearer to you,
happy,joyful,cheerful,pleasant days
when the moon rose in the sky just for us,
will these glimpses of happy days wipe tears from your eyes?
If not,if you are still running on empty
just listen to my words floating in the air,
"love thy name is eternity".
© kash poet 2012
===================000===================
Placement: 5th (June 2012)
Contest:Mish-Mash
Sponsor:Tracie
RULES FOR THIS POEM (HA HA HA HA...enjoyed the challenge)
===========================================
Line 1.. must have 13 syllibles
Line 2.. use the name of someone you love in this line
Line 3.. must rhyme with Line 4
Line 4.. see above
Line 5.. can only have 3 words
Line 6.. must contain a palindrome
Line 7.. use the title of your poem in this line
Line 8.. must rhyme with line 3 & 4
Line 9.. must be one of your favorite short quotes
Line 10.. use the name of a country in this line
Line 11.. 5 words in this line must rhyme
Line 12.. use only 6 syllibles in this line
Line 13.. Add all or part of a song title to this line
Line 14..use a synonym in this line
Line 15.. use 4 different words that mean the same thing in this line.
Line 16.. you cant use the letters A D or L in this line
Line 17.. Use the words happy and eyes in this line
Line 18.. the words 'running on empty' must be used in this line
Line 19.. must rhyme with line 12
Line 20.. Use a line from one of your old poems in this line.
It has been a rough week.
Monday was dog-eared and dozing.
The world ended on Tuesday -
so not a great start.
Wednesday, not surprisingly,
did not know how to break the news.
The planet carried on being essentially global
while millions of people seemingly not to care
that they were no longer there.
There were many afterlife tragedies,
rumors of leaky unsustainable beliefs,
suicides were tried but to no avail.
Everywhere there were catastrophic failures
of restroom facilities.
Thursday dissolved quietly
unwilling to confirm or deny its existence.
Those still able to crawl to work
did so in their dreaming skulls.
Friday absentmindedly tried to begin again
then remembered.
The few who thought it might only be
a cosmic PowerGrid blip
were assured by ghostly astrophysicist
that the world would return
and apologized for all the fuss.
However, as happened,
the weekend really was the END.
narcissistic negativity in higher learning.
nods of forget-me-nots, knots in shyness
satisfying unconfidence - look at me,
don’t look at me, pass by, stop...please.
brat in me left for a funeral, fuming dissonance;
meanwhile friends thought I was dead, falling
off the precipice of this world, woe is me;
shame...I should feel shame at sharp turn
from reality - negativity my play.
the dead fell into me, he was condemned
to die an untimely death from pot, “they say.”
poor lot of the dead, drudgery of debt —
undefiled, dallying not with love nor hate.
i hated the solo seat next to this strange, pudgy boy -
he was only a boy, a barbizon actor - parting was such sweet sorrow,
he left the Globe Theater.
my bland diet of diurnal tides, wicked flow
of upset and woe, dictated by me -
for eternity i think not;
the shredmonster to grind the grandiose
conjecture of a silly girl’s thoughts,
thoughtless and lost.
now i know every life counts:
the drowned, the blood-ill, the poisoned
and the one-way erasure.
every moment counted - the countless counting
in math class, the superb poems i kissed or
absentmindedly missed, hysterical history
superciliously rendered to simple ears,
later pierced with inlaid gems — truth.
what is truth, asked by ages past - past my prime,
prim and proper squeezed through butt cheeks.
we must laugh, not just in the dark but in open places.
tear the pieces of my heart, the decor relentless
however i see through arbitrary glasses, classes
taught by God. i pray don’t break me. fragile glass,
shards sunken in — buried in the ocean sand.
my personality could split in half, in quarters —
behind the shed. negativity relishing, nodding.
positive i will not end up this way. my vocabulary
shan’t never be small, again i shall pour out
pages and pages of potential balm.
moisturizing at my age necessary — when you’re a child,
chilblains are myth. catharsis
chitter-chatters better with false teeth and assorted feathers.
12/5/2020
Contest: Catharis
Sponsor: Silent One
*Shakespeare
A bright afternoon lunch, a darker shadow wraps around
your leg. Not clawing, just yawning. Yearning for a twitch
in its way.
You sit terribly still.
Your mother urges you to shoo it off, your father chews
absentmindedly at the way too bloodied meat, gazing through
your forehead. The clinks of the neighboring tables annoyingly
in sync. Your foot turns to face it.
The waiter gets your sister's order wrong, she curls up to a ball
as so does her stomach as she pipes down the vanilla milkshake,
an excuse to leave to the bathroom. To leave here.
The edge of your eyes catches the figure 8 being woven
along your cramping shins.
The heavy grimace of your brother, your mother fixing up
his collar, clearly not ironed. The setting bores you,
you look under. Beady eyes staring at you too. A plea
for what you should do.
The sinful act of feeding a noir stray cat.
With the steady grip of a football player, a knowing smirk
a bright eye glint, you hold it close,
the pitch-dark abomination–
and toss it onto the table.
An approving purr.
A feast for all.
Her face assumed a distant air,
A strong veil of old sadness.
She was relatively still young.
A butterfly in her prime of life.
Yet she felt heaviness of heart
That only age could explain.
She had seen him with other girls,
Younger butterflies than she.
Handsome as he was,
He was an attraction in the town.
Suddenly she realized he was free,
And began to notice her as she walked in the public garden.
He saw her as a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower
But he never stayed long, she was convinced.
She smiled, a sudden change of brightness.
He would realize she was not so old after all.
Her face was smooth, an evanescent of age
And wrinkles. Her eye glimmered with mirth.
Afterall wasn’t she as beautiful as any other butterfly?
Perhaps he would ask her out. Would she accept?
It would not last, she knew him too well.
Too many butterflies for her liking.
So, she’ll decline politely and show him the door.
It did not take him too long to ask her for a date.
Absentmindedly, she gladly accepted.
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Lockdown (courtesy coronavirus COVID-19)...
Minimally impacts mine secluded lifestyle,
cuz yours truly came into this madcap world
approximately 534714.57958 times after
gnomon cast shadow across flat plate of sundial
ever since being a little boy, I throve while
existence kept me in solitude, thus isolation trial
directly linkedin with pandemic necessitates
sparse human contact, yea analogous to an exile
punishment far removed, quarantined, condemned...
and essentially metaphorically banished necessitating
befriending self as best beastie boy bad company
where madding crowd hashtagged insync existing
within territory hostile currying aversion to socialize
worse fate than being eaten
alive (with one chomp) savored
by token smiling crocodile
absentmindedly pitching
head over heels into... state of denial
after out running a tribe
of 10,000 aboriginal maniacs,
hence out distancing latter only to buzzfeed former
whose absence not noticed, until long in the tooth
(actually between 60 and 72 teeth) said reptile
captured and subsequently dissected (I'll)
spare telling thee gory details
though amazingly well preserved facial profile
comprising fully intact features
exhibiting me eternally frozen cunning guile,
nevertheless greater excitement arose
at similarity between former poetaster
and La Brea Tar Pits fossilized dinosaur kin
especially their respective coat
of armor ironic steely iambic style.
shaped like a boat,
a sock peeked out,
down under the rim.
a baby bootie,
a boot camp scootie,
befuddled the face,
bright red,
of a pale blond —
a mother on the side.
could have been undies
lining the sailor cap!
waterlogged laughter.
sea of despair.
however... i showed her up,
dereliction of my polished shoes.
barely an adult,
sneakering to hide
in the head,
luckily placed as a guest
in the gatehouse
and not out on my rear guard
or thrown in the brigg
for my lack of attention to detail.
the blond carries her family in a seabag
— not allowed —
can’t find the other sock.
9/3/2020
All In A Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor - William Kekaula
scootie means child that is between the stages of crawling and walking. Here I’m using it as a baby’s sock.
sneakering is a play on words as I had absentmindedly put on my sneakers