Long Dallying Poems
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Is our love a dance macabre?
A dilly dallying with death?
Or a mystic encounter of unabated love?
Will it last? Will it end?
So many questions left unanswered,
So many uncertainties attested,
All cumulative in a death wish
As emotions run devilishly amok.
My soul screams with this unpredictability,
Its echoes rampage through my veins,
As bubbling blood courses through
Twisted arteries, through havoc and chaos.
Is it the folly of chained love?
The unearthly silence of togetherness?
My lips pronounce your name but no one answers.
I realize my questions will never be answered.
Our togetherness is but a charade,
Shadows dancing in a moonless night.
Your allure is just too much to bear,
I dare keep it no more
So let our ways head into different tracks.
Henceforth I'll dance alone.
A dance macabre.
I am the sorcerer of nothing
The master of no one
The author of an imaginary missive still in the bowels of non-existence
I am the queen of thought processes
Flirting and flitting in another dimension
Nowhere near my dendrite field, ignoring me completely
I am dallying and dallying this week.
I am frivolously playing.
I am living my truth, unconcerned at the lack of wisdom or thought.
I am lying in the sun in a lawn chair
With a happy dog at my feet
We are practically napping.
Bunnies are hopping around, fearing neither of us
Cardinals are flipping us the bird
No small feat but delightful
It is summer and I am the mistress of the meadow
I am the goddess of clover
I am the keeper of the lull - life is good.
Misery accompanied, haltered, tethered... tattered web
This health conscious lx year
roam'n, hoodwinking hoodlum doth wear
two pair bullet proof underwear,
(which confession rarely trumpeted),
plus yours truly admits unclear
why tibia long in the tooth fellow,
prevaricates with tongue in cheek oh contraire
good n plenti humor absent clear
sense and sensibility so beware
me figuratively pulling poetic foot
mainly "white lie" fibula I air
discombobulated gobbledygook,
which corroboration ye might declare
choosing to cease reading
feeling in high dungeon as all hell... where,
twitching (bull leave me you) nostrils flare
analogous to spewing dragon
rare endangered species from Zaire
of corpse stewing in dungeon
hooping on wing and prayer
to attend Renaissance Faire,
thus word wizard conjured
aforementioned as metaphorical veneer
cuz, he really sought to pioneer
his breakout poetaster career,
thus far batch
prefabricated rejection letters
posits alternative to forswear
writing another feeble rhyme
relieving anonymous critics
providence beckons I course hear
doom and resignation refrain
repeatedly hammering and echoing
within chambers of each ear
mancave best provenance
divine providence especially if nuclear
war rents tentative moments to spare,
which doomsday looms clear,
perhaps half fortnight away
fatalistic mindset, I despair
money woes exacerbate pesky news
sense under_scoring dallying,
dithering, lollygagging... while linear
rise regarding global temperature
gives cold comfort the buccaneer
occupying oval office laissez faire
attitude, hence pennilessness moot
total mortal kombat global warming
further accentuates real Halloween scare,
no trick only ill treatment
unleashed courtesy mutineer
hand over fist handily did profiteer
minting daily another bajillionaire
government coffers bursting
mother earth biosphere square
within uber targeted crosshair
talking heads poles
apart as global warming
melts Antarctic frigidaire
Santa Claus reindeer and elves
schvitz as north pole melts
in short shrift oblate sphere
formerly teeming with life
field day for hardy
indomitable creatures thriving
within most scary nightmare.
Act 1: Scene 1: (As the curtain opens, we see the bulky frame of Farmer George. He paces
the worn floor of his large open kitchen. He has just come in from harvesting his crops.
Seated at the table is his wife, Florence (Flo), a more educated person, demure, and usually
calm. Today she sits, as if in peril, large green eyes darting nervously back and forth as they
follow his every move. Across from her on the table is an uncut melon; next to it, a large
knife. Both husband and wife appear agitated, and an argument is about to ensue as George
leans suddenly forward, glaring at his wife’s startled face, placing both his large rough hands
heavily down on the table squarely in front of Flo. . . )
Flo: Mercy, George, what’s gotten into you? You’re nearly giving me a heart attack!
George: Don’t tempt me, woman. I want an explanation from you and I want it RIGHT
NOW! No more ‘a this dilly dallying around. What in tarnation was ya doin’ out there?
Flo: Why, I’ve been in here cooking, can’t you see?
George: Cooking? Cooking? I’d say you been cooking up something all right and it ain’t
been here in this kitchen!
Flo: Why, whatever do you mean, George?
George: I seen you out there by the barn, Flo. Don’t you deny it.
Flo: I am being perfectly candid with you. I’ve been right here cooking you this supper since
4 o’clock! Why on earth would I be out behind the barn and at this hour?
George: That’s what I wanna know! I seen you from the field, Florence. Not more than
fifteen minutes ago! I might’a lost some hearing, but I sure ain’t lost my sight yet! You was
runnin’ toward the house like yer skirt was on fire. So whaddaya not telling me?
(Florences’ gaze settles on the one kitchen window, and suddenly her eyes get very large. At
this precise moment, a loud crash is heard from outside. Bruce picks up the knife from the
table and dashes off, bellowing, exiting stage left.)
For Rambling Roses' Act 1, Scene 1 Contest
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
Ok let's go up to the fire tower, talk with Ranger Ricky, Heh, heh,. What's so funny Harry. When I was a kid we use to watch the Ranger Ricky Show. He would run Popeye the Sailor cartoons and every week He would say "An a very Hap-py Birthday to the viewers."An a very Hap-py Birthday to Harry, he is 8 years old today.He helps his Mom around the house by doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. Morning Rick, morning Harry, I've been expecting you. I have some bad news, the avalanch started at the top of Demons Bluff. Your chances of finding those kids are slim and even slimmer finding them alive. There is some good news, 7 members of Killington Rescue have joined the search.That's great, the four of us have 2 advantages, we only have to climb 50 feet to the top of the mountain. Demons Bluff is on the otherside, down hill with very little snow
for 3 quarters of a mile. What's the secound reason asked Billy. Harry cooks as well
as he knows this mountain, he is an Ace Rick, stop! Alright, I have 5 thermo-laser poles, should we bring the 5th one. Yep, I'll carry it.
To be Cont.
Author's note: This all took place in less than a 5 minute span if you think we were Dilly-dallying
The morning kept whispering in my ears, telling me that I have nothing to fear, the moment passes quickly and I am halfway through but I have to go shopping for another pair of shoe, the
Prices are high but I know that I can fulfill that mission waiting
At the back of the sky, it feels like I just got here but the day is
Already done but the battle is not yet and I would like to compose a new song, be patient with me for I know that you are waiting for me.
One day fades into another and I still have not satisfied that hunger, I have several missions to complete but the universe is rocking at my feet; everyone is waiting there but I am dilly dallying over here; everyone is nice to me and I have gotten
Everything that I need but the one that is draining my pocket
Is bothering me. I have to get there for I have something significant to share a few hours later will not make a difference
For when the heaven meet with the sky the cold war will die.
Whichever way it goes, I am convince that this is the best way to go, I will use one stone to kill fours birds and spend an extra day to chase the devil ; the universe cannot sings unless he joins
The choir and sings the same hymn, I will think about it for a while and wait for the universe to comply. I will continue my route and carry an extra pair of shoes and when I am done with
That, I will go directly to the red square and sit wth them in the golden chair. “You are welcome my dear”, a silent voice whispers.
Time flies and the delegation is standing by, add the extra pair of to the schedule and take me to the schools so that I can learn the golden rule, the universe is waiting for me and I have to set my spirit free, I must get this burden off my head so that the people can be fed, please get me there on time so that so thatI can meet with stubborn minds and solve the problems of the sea and make some people happy. Time Flies!
That Day In ‘73
That day in ‘73 was as clear and pristine as glass ice,
Torched by a brace of smitten souls falling in love.
There was no lush music to be heard in this duet,
No swiveling rhythms or conga lines for the long dance,
Nay, these two lovers found quiet shade and a fantasy,
Parked intimately beneath a black walnut tree in August.
I saw the sun peeking at us through rustling green leaves.
You and I made constant eye contact and talked
Incessantly in the dallying breeze as the hours
Strutted forward like a striking drum beating silence.
Our eyes and mouths salivated with each salty utterance.
You talked with a Texas drawl showing white lusty teeth
As you sat cross legged showing bare brown gams,
Slender and shining as polished chrome on a new statue.
Who could have known then it would end up a naked failure,
A meteoric plunge from utter infatuation to the deep abyss of
Dysfunctional love, strangled by fiascos of precision and symmetry,
Of heightened expectations canceled in the sweating darkness,
The inability of breaching the sweetened walls, the ripe walls,
Of this nineteen year old mansion hidden below the tracks, with
This well-shaped Saturday night walking around with nothing on.
That day in ’06 was as cold and overcast as icy black dirt,
Casting a pall of paralyzing grief the size of a granite temple;
There was subdued string music emanating from a boom box,
As the mother and her living sisters stepped up to see the body,
The sunken tan face that once spoke with a sultry Texas drawl,
Once lay naked in the breast-kissing darkness with eyes staring up;
Now the shining statue sleeps with Cancer there, being kissed again.
How your beauteous face stirs me
as I gaze into your startling eyes
deep blue pools of mystery I see
you hold me bound by satin ties
Your hair shines like ravens wings
a riotous windswept mass of curls
as I gaze up on you my heart sings
seeming to turn in spins and whirls
Your figure so perfectly curved
I just yearn to be in your arms
your piecing gaze has me unnerved
and yet I am pulled by your charms
Dallying together, passions rising
soon we will be wed as man and wife
for now we just play, do some musing
of emotions which do now run so rife
written for National Poetry Day
10/03/2013
I tried to leave which sex to the readers imagination
EAGLES ENCOUNTER
Mi was doing my nite rounds..
then was a student at a local varsity
when i had an encounter with them eagles
they offer me peace...salaams..
but they were really trying
to appear nonthreatening
one of them asked mi a weird question
...how did you do it..
i perceived they were alluding
to the gift of sight..
dilly dallying around but they are..
all ears..i mention the fall..
suddenly there by my side scaring mi
or is it intimidating..
...what do you know of it...
only what you tell me..i replied
impatient eagles.. hard stances taken..
run to the USA even there floods
overtake thee..
and operative cleantone caps you..
The eagles aren't that bad
and they blend well with mortals..
This is Africa and immortals
walkin around aiint no big deal
we roll our eyes.. turn a blind eye..
We aint like them Americans
who have an obsession for the..
weird.. weird stuff of life..
miracles so rare in their land
they have to invent superheros
down here weird is the norm
and every one is given rite of passage
for this is tanateru.. this is gods acre..
and immortals have a rite of way
its the mortals who live down here..
you should watch out for...
the eagles land and leave
at times they snatch
the chicks from the hen..
and hubby rooster..
they don't bother us much
even kids don't fear them..
for they like to fly high..
and if i was an angel
wouldn't i protect them day and nite...
and if i were a bomb... i would never
explode..for the eagles landed-
and none was too wise...
Lewis k Nyaga,
KIRINYAGA FREE STATE..