Long Afield Poems
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Xxvi+ marriage anniversary (mine)
recalls first disastrous
date with future missus
approximately waltzing
matt tilde two dozen
plus years ago
Tex Mex Connection
201 E Walnut Street
North Wales, Pennsylvania, 19454
every entree included beans
maybe refried or otherwise
effectively laid siege
mine delicate constitution
quickly felt bloated
ready to explode
ala Hindenburg Airship
rushed out restaurant
like bat out of hell
twofold purpose accomplished
desperately needed
to eliminate gaseous buildup
airing banal courtesy
yours truly as kapellmeister
aired rendition, viz Die Fledermaus
for sphincter muscle
hence, faster than Usain Bolt
dashed out front door
plus needed to tap MAC
inadequate wallet stash cash
thus, aye hightailed to nearest ATM,
or rather courtesy rectal explosion
blasted lovely gaseous body
analogously, effectively, gravity free
whizzing, whirring, whining balloon
a bit far afield
incidental bank woe
gastrointestinal directive resolved
forced effort taxed derriere
all told alight propulsion
natural gas fueled
lovely bones within flash
far surpassing long held
Guinness Book world's record
Jackass the ripper former
flatulence champion claimed,
nonetheless I safely landed far
from madding crowd
analogous pulling pin
out hand grenade
gluteus maximus burnt to crisp
necessitated immediate diversion
local drug store
purchased preparation H
discreetly patted, palmed, pacified
scorched cheeky bum
suffered first-degree burns
hemorrhoid cream balm
alleviated buttuck blasts fallout
quickly reunited with my gal
slightly concerned about whereabouts
related personal anecdote
tuckus thru remains of
otherwise humdrum hours
concluding asinine antics,
where approximately
half past monkey's ass
driving lass back home
found me exerting effort suppressing
recurring rumblies in domain tumbly.
Posterior script:
the above account
unsolicited plug for satisfied patron
asper jumpstarting behind the times
car rear ring buttuck blaster beastie boy.
The wood pigeon awoke on her roosting perch,fluttered with a nervous jerk;warily
searching for sustenance,above the peregrine made a fateful entrance.The
winter harsh and icy cold,driven far from its familiar fold,seeking food further
afield to an urban garden that might increase its yield.Under a biting wintry sky
the short tailed falcon hovered high,an efficient killer from above,more than a
match for pigeon or dove.Taking its chosen meal in flight,swooping sudden from
a great height,the momentum imprinting our window pane,her throat slashed
she soon was slain.Talons sunk deep into the pigeons chest this finicky eater
pecked at head and breast.The lawn strewn leavings of a ravenous raptor,as
nature's journal leafs another chapter.
the end safety
No modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water and drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber as matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us who live
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
I was once a Romeo
In gallant quest of romantic love.
For sake of which I wandered far afield,
Past mills and quarries, foundries and farms
Where good folk tend their business
And useful things get done.
As spring gave way to winter,
I found the climate daunting,
With freeze and thaw displacing by upheaval
My belief in happily ever after.
My confirmations became suspicioned,
And my satisfaction curiosified.
My ratifications were soon dutifully amended
And my achievements ambitioned
To a more sensible view of reality.
Having suffered hard time in the punishment block,
Where one’s thoughts then tend
To either stagnate or germinate,
I arrived at this one eternal paradox:
Only fools dare ever fall in love,
While only love can save the foolish from themselves.
I saw it in a vision
the day of my own death
in your arms you held me
until released my own last breath
I've been waiting for the moment
where you'll finally know what's real
that the person who really loves you
will always be your shield and seal
I placed myself between you
where entered the deadly dart
every moment I was with you
priceless till it pierced my heart
and silent is the grave
where until raised up I'll sleep
like those who went before me
until the keys unseal graves keep
Whether righteous you or wicked
all will to the dust below
every soul that is living
to the place they call Sheol
For dust are you and will return
neath the alter you will rest
until the life and resurrection calls
remain you in grave as guest
For there is a time appointed
when Christ all dead will call
aforetime it was scheduled
that this death would spread to all
I knew long before this occurred
I would place myself as shield
that your life was worth the giving
and my life would rest afield
Where I can say I loved you
until the very last
this is the Lords example
the mold from which we're cast ...
COPYRIGHT © 2014 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
The wood pigeon awoke on her roosting perch,
fluttered with a nervous jerk;
warilysearching for sustenance,
above the peregrine made a fateful entrance.
The winter harsh and icy cold,
driven far from its familiar fold,
seeking food further afield
to an urban garden that might increase its yield.
Under a biting wintry sky
the short tailed falcon hovered high,
an efficient killer from above,more than a
match for pigeon or dove.
Taking its chosen meal in flight,swooping sudden from
a great height,
the momentum imprinting our window pane,
her throat slashed she soon was slain.
Talons sunk deep into the pigeons chest
this finicky eater pecked at head and breast.
The lawn strewn leavings of a ravenous raptor,
as nature's journal leafs another chapter.
Deep inside where shadows lounge
True love was lost no magic found
That fleeting thought run now it's not too late
Never fathoming his deceptions so great
The magic once encompassing both
not knowing how far afield he'd go
One content with passions flash
The other forever chasing **ASS**
Both now knowing somethings not right
Could it have been his continual lies?
Trust in her he failed to do
That lack of such - he respected few
Passions dimmed and flames went away
Both responsible for the path they lay
Question, curse, fight till dawn
The demons inside released for none
The trick to regain the Sorcerer's touch
So simple even wee people would gush
Stop seeking that which you should not attain
The searching causes both great pain
Be humble and love that one you have
Or all for naught be forever sad
Stop looking seeking far afield away
Or else true love will fade away.
One-hundred percent Italian descent:
four grandparents crossed the ocean, went
through Ellis Island, from Italy sent;
my Italian roots, one-hundred percent.
But D N A samples now tested, ruled-
genetic ancestry can have you fooled!
With full Italian descent overruled-
gene structure in me- completely retooled.
Dumbstruck that percentages showed so clear
my pie chart was sliced- not a full sphere,
my mind was lost in this new-found frontier,
and wiped out ideas that I held so dear.
Through tests, my genetic past now revealed,
sixty-four percent Italian did yield!
Thirty-six percent now unconcealed
some ancestors came from lands far afield!
Mid-Eastern, Caucasus, Iberian too,
Some Jewish, Scandinavian, plus a few
chance Irish genes to mix up the brew.
My former beliefs are now so untrue.
But, soon I accepted this new-found me,
like others amazed, as shown on TV,
surprised, but excited as I can be-
with a varied, colorful, mixed ancestry!
April 19, 2017
Contest: Dumbstruck
Sponsor: Charles Messina
True facts: I received my Ancestry DNA
test results on April 1, 2017
Wriggled in her arms.
Lost in an adventure of romance, moving far afield.
Though I have no weakness for writing,
my story got underway.
Wallowing in the admiralty of her beauty
Adorned with beautiful antique ornament
Adulterated with the laudable attribute of nature
Epitomizing the 6th day work,
and the adroit molding of the creator.
Ensconced on her chest for an aeon of time.
Only my hands left to keep the memory of time.
Touching the acme of her chest,
Pointing like that of Sheba.
Turning it to a piccolo, without an acoustic.
Acknowledging the season between her legs,
warming the cold in my hands.
Letting my hand becoming an ace,
and my phalanges adept in describing her.
My eyes falling over itself
to keep the facsimile of her body,
and my skin falling in with my eyes,
as two spent swimmers that do cling together.
Feeling her permed hair,
blowing like a frond tree by the river.
Her eyes shining like a cat
which has never been afeared
Her skin like flowers that never fade in autumn
and less of acne in winter.
I wish our spirit is adjoined forever
Like fifes and drum that make a good sound,
Keeping myself in the light of your love
praying it never fade.
I wish I wake up in my trance
Wishing I say all these to your face
And see it received.
Have you seen the man whom my soul loves
does spring boundless like the antelopes afield
whose consumations thus give to herds their yield
like lightly soars in thermals flocks of doves
The strength of pillars in the sinews of his limbs
so skillfully lifts the music of his hands
gathers those who so listen from their stands
and bring pleasures where he whose talents spends
I had searched the mountainous valley's long ago
to find a soul whose depth as rich as he
so many I had scanned though did not see
the like of him in any people I did know
Thus to my chambers I would him chance
but he would have to leave the fields flocks
exclusive is the devotion behind doors locks
or partake the tables spread in harlots dance
To waltz like winged bird upon the wind
whose unseen direction comes from whence
and depth of feelings that make not sense
didst this emotion upon mine heart descend
Tis now two years I have you letters sent
to give mine thoughts you by song I sing
that you might understand like bird on wing
the nature of the truth in word now lent
From the depths of what is true these words now formed
whose intent to be like rain upon the fields of grass
that might turn attention to so unbeautious of lass
whose God has these feelings within adorned
So has long in word have emptied out her soul
that he might read and see what is her past
so fashion to his reason and understanding cast
thus the secret person within might come to know
Could he not know that every word was given voice
to paint a picture of what is of Love and True
a gift wrapped like music in a tonal hue
that he might clearly see and make a choice
Thus seen like wisps of clouds in boundless sky
whose movements formed by mists and winds
invisible from where all courses begot sends
and by word have fully fashioned what is I
Source : Song of Solomon
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC