Long Dwarfing Poems
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Fastidious gildings must dot your mien:
Sizzling lips that ooze unbridled charm,
And a neck sleekest with angelic luster
To daze the eye and sun a smitten arm.
Still deeper graces beyond corporeal eye
Shall your gold’s stoutest bulwarks prove:
A mind pliable into another’s loftier ideal,
A heart malleable to wit’s forging groove.
A full stock of sly eccentricities to baulk
Pert overstepping darts round the clock;
And a placating vocular chime that tells
Time’s tick better than poor-piping bells.
A hope that dares azure's illest signs;
Turning gaffes into leaps onto higher
Insights purer than filtered science,
Dwarfing Fate and her fiendish fire.
And shall all these bejeweled traits
Sure lie within one maiden’s tastes,
And finally match the magic gleams
Of that fairy gal I see in my dreams?
Ojibwe tribe is in awe of the spirit moon
She brings a swift coldness to the atmosphere
Showing her reverence for a wintery mix.
Cree call her frost exploding moon,
in honor of the tree crackling sounds of Canada
Her bright roundness announces icicles and snow
Luna keeps her far side hidden, an illusion of secret
Showing us her full wolf moon, the one we howl for
Changing our moods in mercurial ways
I stare at her from the safety of my home
Wind chill here is minus eight below zero.
Thank you spirit moon, I say, admiring her frost.
Her gorgeousness brings blackness to the sky
Dwarfing the beauty of the constellations
Obliterating them. I feel Native American around her.
They couldn't have chosen a nest-bed more complex, or vaster.
I lauded their industry (toiling through Sunday, no qualms!),
and almost felt guilty for loitering by their pilaster.
My wife was the hold-up. Those scanty straps were a disaster,
her shoulders cold-shouldered! Here, there's no right to bare arms.
Basilicas don't come mightier, or more splendid, than this one:
Saint Peter's in Rome, High Renaissance, wide-fabled by poets.
The great Michelangelo crafted this Christian Aswan:
they've gathered its glories in guidebooks, so no-one need miss one.
Those frantic ants scampered on legend, but they didn't know it.
And isn't that rather like us? As we hurry and scurry,
accomplishing little, accounting ourselves oh so clever,
ignoring the story (except our immediate worries),
deploring as boring whatever creates no quick flurry,
we miss the magnificence dwarfing our petty endeavours.
Fall’s felicitous red herring —
the mystery of leaves morphing.
The autumnal applause fairing.
Verdant heat and daylight dwarfing.
The horologic ticker chimes,
as lines are drawn on pumpkins patched.
Gramps, it’s apple picking time.
The scarecrow’s wise with balding thatch.
Forensic crisp of maple leaves —
children foolishly blinded by
the crimson and yellow dervish
heap...how quickly green does die.
Snowy bonnet soon covers plot —
arthritically profound.
The creaky ice of knees and knots
embellish the grownups’ playground.
Sought are the days of yesteryear —
chirping of birds and childhood friends,
standing aloft swing with no fear,
ascending where sunlight transcends.
9/22/2019
100 words
Any poem you want to write exactly 100 words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Word count checked by howmanysyllables.com
In black hot hue
Let the volcano spew
Everything changes
Every aggression is spent
Every narcissist disappears in himself
Mayhem in the bookshelf
Nothing is immutable
Neither space nor time
Nor sun nor moon
Let alone the focus on
Sovereignty and singularity
A monolithic spree
However omnipotence
It may exude
The presidency itself
Is an interlude
Within a boundary
Of brittle ego
With tenuous commitment
To democracy
Some say angel
Many others say wretch
Time smiles
Makes a sketch of the Statue of Liberty
Dwarfing the height
Broadening the expanse
In an egocentric trance
This time is crazy
Making the rainbow hazy
However formidable
It may sound and look
Bereft of imagination and color
In future
Even the demurely looking women
Will eventually wonder aloud
And their support they would disavow
Until the sovereignty blossoms from the nucleus
Of lovely apples
Born of the flowers of the rainbow nation
November 1, 2017
For the Contest: Eight Word Challenge - 5
Sponsored by John Hamilton
It took up well, but's firmly plunging south
A million starts, yet hardly any ends
Self-interest at the core, with foul mouth
And very few, if any, real friends
Good deeds, I barely count any
To benefit all those while in need
Oh, yeah, he terminated penny
And those who donated he has freed
The "ego" dwarfing larger state of Texas
While, sadly, arrogance, it's bursting at the seams
Deflecting questions to White House "Alexa"
Pursuing legacy is goal, as it seems
Be center of attention everywhere
Is good for one but not for all of us
He'll cut you off on TV "Town Square"
And call you stupid on demand he wouldn't discuss
When "I" replaces whole nation
It's very selfish, wouldn't you agree?
Each spoken word must rhyme with "ovation"
It's always "me me me" instead of "we we we"
August 24, 2026
Early morning April 8th, 2020
meteorologic destiny manifested...
rumbling atmospheric thuds,
promised natural exultant
sound and light show
subsequently within minutes
dully rightly appraised as dud,
yours truly forced himself awake
way before dawn's early light
all for naught, yet...
thus hours later summoned,
perhaps lame poetic material
(think) potential Earth shaking
literary cause not lost
expressing disappointment
'pon absent dramatic booming anticipation,
electrifying fascination, injecting glorification
atavistic beastie boy within me
awed, charged, fascinated, jarred,
witnessing (i.e. seeing and hearing)
humbling experience beholding
dynamic latent forces unleashed
intense earsplitting, blinding
spectacular singular sensational
magnificent natural phenomena
far surpassing, née dwarfing
extravagant pyrotechnics wrought
courtesy innovative *****sapiens.
Time and again
without fail - exuberant delight
always gushes forth,
no fanfare for
totally tubular common man,
whose feeble insignificant powers
laughable and lamentable
puny human specimen
easily flicked (think
humongous sized fingers
particularly middle digit)
sending me airborn
pirouetting head over heels
at mercy of Mother Nature's whims
among brethren and sistren
constituting fray'n chipped
foo fighting ship of
motley crew zing fools
metaphorical human league
bajillion *****sapiens
even if/when global
standing military combined
be they: armies, marines,
navies... fighting force
nope, still no match
against tectonic and volcanic
potential and/or kinetic energy.
Should a caveman or woman accidentally wander into our time zone,
He or she would feel right at home,
With their keen ear easily able to interpret our not-so-subtle Grunts,
And groans.
Their good eyesight and sense of smell soon aiding them in finding a free meal.
On many a movie set.
With a home invite from the director or producer on the cards.
With real muscles and body strength dwarfing what we consider as Power,
Suitable for the Frey.
Able to leap from building to building with consummate ease,
They would soon adapt to our concrete jungle,
With their trusty club at hand,
Making us quiver as we hide behind the nearest bar.
Their fleetness of foot and turning speed able to,
Test out some of our smaller cars.
Their ability to deal to snakes in the grass an extra bonus.
Who would benefit most from this accidental meeting?
I think we would, as they would know where to find the best caves,
To help us overcome the housing shortage.
“How-do-you-do?” the seminal leaves of Autumn wave.
“When would you like to fly away?” prickles the gust.
Maternal-oak holds on tight as one birdy takes flight.
The gust will have none of this ballyhoo, knowing
what he must do, calls for fingernails-on-chalkboard rain,
for the bad-wolf-wind, for lightning, insane.
“Toodle-loo,” says each spiderling-leaf, parachuting to earth.
They make such a scene; whirligig and wandering,
each drenched in colloquial colors, memorable, forsaken.
Each one in turn catches a potential eye even as it lands
in puddles, whirling and twirling, a final splash. They mourn
as blends of orange, yellow and red bleed into the stream.
Undignified, decomposing, going under, all poetry spent,
dwarfing and drifting; washed away down the drain.
Spring regeneration haphazardly avoids loose-leaf goosebumps.
Venice, Italy, is a crazy shamozzle of new and old
Where junk, graffiti, decay, stunning beauty,
history and culture poverty and opulence, all reside side by side, bobbing.
Water dominates the landscape, canals and waterways replace all the roads
Everything is carried by boat, food, people, garbage, produce, industrial supplies.
Ambulances, fire engines, delivery trucks and police cars are all replaced by boats.
The disorderly rusty ferries ply the waterways, jostling along with gondolas, magnificent polished wooden water taxis,
Occasionally the historic scene is ruined by modern fiber glass runabouts
with huge outboard motors completely out of place.
Next comes barges with cranes, garbage collecting boats, delivery and construction supply boats, and the many service vehicles.
Grab a table beside the canals and watch the parade of boats old and new jostle and bobble on by.
Walk through the tiny crowded streets and enjoy the kaleidoscope of people of many cultures enjoying themselves.
There are many surprises. Tiny shops with feet in large glass tanks being cleaner by fish.
Everywhere there are places to explore and things to enjoy.
Looming off in the distance you may see huge cruise liners dwarfing the buildings,
These vessels are seemingly populated by ants, as the ships are so big.
The ancient church bells in Venice chime as the ships depart arrive and depart, in homage to the new god of tourism.
The Palace art is simply overwhelming, overloading your senses.
Ancient art is everywhere and often ignored.
Venice is beautiful, but one gets the impression that all the photographs taken in Venice
are gradually sucking out the life force out of the structures, hastening their decay.
There are so many dimensions and experiences, places to explore that you never get tired of Venice.
The more times you visit the better you will like it and the more you will find to do and see.
You have to laugh and ignore the hassles, the jostling crowds, the regimented crowded ferry system,
the pushing and shoving of the crowds in the tiny streets,
simply laugh and have fun.
Venice is crazy, nice, with diverse multi-faceted attractions and lots of things to do.
You will love it!
Venice Trice is Nice.