Long Drawstring Poems

This Year’s Champion

It’s the last of the snow
Spring finally arrived
Time to get ready for battle
Time to get my little hands 
On my bag of marbles
Way up there since winter
Abandoned on my bookshelf
A droopy, limp blue...

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My friend and I were talking about the weather and how it relates to his business. He said, "This time of year, my life is all about leaves".  I said, "That would make a...

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It’s the last of the snow
Spring finally arrived
Time to get ready for battle
Time to get my little hands 
On my bag of marbles
Way up there since winter
Abandoned on my bookshelf
A droopy, limp blue velvet bag
But...

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making a difference
                        
 
Our children should be treasured
To be loved ,cuddled...

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........jiggle clumsily; post halter-
behind braids- busy in evacuation of the cool pool water,
like a carefree bull in the field.
Her eyes sharp and cruel, unyielding to the faulter.
Fixating on a fool, 
one caught looking,
looking around in...

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        On a misty mountaintop, 
where eagles guard the skies, a priestess awaits, 
like a pacing dragon,
her lover's gaze to stair upon like a tiger from a pit,...

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they're not speaking to me now, the Muses; 
they're being stubborn, 
witholding information, like beetle-browed accomplices - 
their mouths pulled tight as drawstring purses. 
they sit on their twin thrones of epiphany and genius, 
smiling...

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THINGS WITH STRINGS

Spider's web, strings of stars,
a weaver's loom, and old guitars.
Balls of yarn, and DNA,
string bikini, and crochet.

Cats cradle, spools of thread,
Tails on kites, and hairs on head.
Theory in music, or in science,
together making...

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It still hangs there,
		     there on the back of my door.

“Wa d’y lev ut thur?” I can hear you say 
in that Chatterley-esque accent of yours,
rippling through me.

“It’s so I can...

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You’ve got to have a certain knack
when opening your Silly Sack
for the beasts within
will attack to win
with no hold barred, no turning back.

Now these are not the monstrous sort,
it’s just that they do not comport.
It’s...

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Marvelling in the pink afternoon, pretending
to crochet a drawstring. I’ve done it before,
at least once before, followed the pattern. Closed
the purse. I can’t nearly begin
to learn that not all things are meant
to bring pleasure to...

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You’ve got to have a certain knack
when opening your Silly Sack;
the beasts within will soon attack
with no hold barred, no turning back.

Now these are not the monstrous sort,
it’s just that they do not comport.
Of mischief,...

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I remember shooting marbles during recess time.
There were puries, tiny worlds of milky blindedness.
Big heavy steelies, bearings from salvaged, derelict machines,
Hematite cores of some new known planets.
And cats' eyes with color-filled center swirls.

I horded them...

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Burlap and satin went to the dance
It was held at the old Fisher Barn
Burlap wore a fine Gunny sack
Adorned with a drawstring of yarn

Satin sported a shimmery weave
Trimmed with buttons of gold
The glossy attire was...

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The thin white line of sanity stretches  
Between empty horizon and smoky sky,
Where mind bereft struggles for breath, choking,
The drawstring tightening, pulling the dark -
The soundless, hollow dark - from netherworld
Of demons and terror-filled...

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Let me see if I still remember how 
to light an emotion with just one touch 
Caress the linen dreams of my hot summer day 
with just the sound of your sweet laughter ..
I shall...

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Whom I have lose 

It's a demand of my life
When she was in Bank
I saw her hair band
She was an angel
I am a devil
Drum of drums into my heart
When I saw but she is an...

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Four joints excercising their right
to tense up
Oh how the Pancreas aides in 
such a drawstring.

Conscience kidnapped for a spell
while these fierce, 
No, cowardly beings
earn their way into darkness.

Like the pedophile with no
child, sitting in the...

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