Long Hooves Poems
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Again the dreams, each dark cold night,
of a white horse, oh sweet delight;
he turns to me, waiting it seems,
each dark cold night, again the dreams.
The snow falls, each flake filigree,
waiting it seems, he turns to me;
a small bird sings, with sad birdcalls,
each flake filigree, the snow falls.
Oh ... be still, I ask my heartstrings,
with sad birdcalls, a small bird sings;
the night quiet, I hear his trill,
I ask my heartstrings, oh ... be still.
And we ride, his hooves a riot,
I hear his trill, the night quiet;
across a meadow, swift we glide,
his hooves a riot, and we ride.
That night, in a strange place
I was like a fly
Circling a street light
Reeling…Reeling!
I felt so alone
Fear wrenched my throat
Couldn’t predict
When I would be charred to death
I had heard,
In the cover of dark
Everyone was a robber
Or a masked assassin!
Without a roof over my head
I was like a mole
Smoked out of its hole
And exposed to blaring light
Had it been my own town
Where I knew
Every nook and cranny
Like the lines of my palm
I wouldn’t have minded
Being so helplessly stranded
Or left in the night
At a distance….
I saw the faint silhouette of hills
Like dreadful dinosaurs crouching
Also the outlines of buildings
Reminding one of the medieval haunted castles
Stray dogs, mangy
Were raiding the trash bins.
I don’t know why then
I enjoyed their company
I could hear the falling hooves
Of cattle, led to the slaughterhouse,
And the lash of whips falling on them,
Echoing the shrieking of a banshee!
Saw an auto lying upside down
Fallen unwary in a pothole
A line of tanker lorries
Seen halted by the roadside,
Like the bogies of a goods train
And their drivers went home,
To sleep with their mates
Behind the cover, I saw
Two figures leaning;
A man and a woman
Night owls at a mating serenade!
I closed my eyes,
Covering them with my palm
In that unearthly hour
An eerie fear gripped me.
Tension was building inside,
Like a balloon being bloated with air
And how my mind longed
To slither out of that hole
To curl up in the warmth of my home
Far… far away!
It’s a chill and rainy Saturday night in New Haven - it’s Superbowl eve! My roommates Leong, Anna and Lisa and I were playing a game of Upwards - it’s a scrabble-like word game and we’re all strangely super competitive.
My phone went “dunk!” A happy ‘Water jug’ sound messages make when they're from one of my favorites. The message was from Charles. He was at the front gate with a package that came to the house where Charles and Mrs. Charles live (about 600 yards from the dorm). He passed me the package through the bars at the main gate, “Thanks,” I said, “ga-night,” and he was gone.
Back in my room, I ripped the box open like Christmas morning. The word game could wait - this package was from Paris. The light beige, Jacquemus, ‘Les Ballerines mary-jane pumps’ I’d ordered (forever ago) had arrived and they fit like soft leather gloves.
“Ooo! Glampse!” Lisa pronounced.
“Aren’t they?” I agreed, swiveling my hooves to show them off in the full length mirror.
When I rejoined the Upwards game, talk had shifted to tomorrow's Superbowl.
“I read yesterday that Taylor’s on her way (to the Superbowl)!” Leong declared.
“I like that she likes the NFL now,” I said.
“A lot of people hate her for it,” Anna countered.
“She was on camera twice, for 11 seconds total, in a 3-1/2 hour long game. If that upsets you, you’re bringing a lot of your own baggage to the plot.” I updogged.
Leong wants to order vegan “wings” for the SuperBowl.
“What, exactly, are those?” I asked, apprehensively.
“You’re the girl who talked me into trying buffalo-frog-legs in Paris? Ney?” Leong enquired, sarcastically.
“Yeah,” I admitted, guiltily, “but they were delicious,” I said in self defense.
I’m picking the Chiefs 30-20 over the niners.
.
.
glampse = glamorous
(As Galileo left the session of the Inquisition
at which he had been forced to deny his own
discovery that the earth orbited the sun, and
had to "admit" that the earth was static, he
murmured, "eppur si muove" ("but it moves").
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
Now the twilight was gone
As we arrived at little Utah inn.
At the edge of the vast prairie.
We rested well savouring the bliss
Of a quiet night away from the city.
Yet early in the morning we woke
To the sound of hooves pounding
Of the dust covered bison which ran
Across the shrubby prairie,
Leaving a large cloud of dust.
Time for breakfast, delicious and tasty.
From our window we could admire
The evergreen red cedars and admired
The tall forest of American Arborvitae.
But my love was fascinated by
The cultivated Saucer Magnolia.
We decided to hire a guide and leave for a park.
We were sure to see birds flying.
Colorful and warbling to our delight.
The Reddish Egret caught our fancy
Though the Sapsucker could compete its song.
But now twilight was descending again
So back to a delicious evening fest.
How we’ll rue the time when
We had to turn back to noisy city unrest.
she knew all the moves
Queen's Gambit
Sicilian Defense
Bura's Desperado Sacrifice
with her arms wrapping me
we barreled the freeway
racing headlong into the wind
balanced on two wheels below
as free as mustangs in the mountains
abandoned in the moment with the herd
where the only destination
was in the hooves desires
when emotions move beyond
any resemblance of logic and reason
my arms began to leave
their grip upon the handlebars
wings were birthed, expanding in flight
soaring in a vision of Magnificent Frigates
liberty in the thermals, gracing the air
ecstatic and free of gravity
casting fate into another paradise
look, mom, no hands
when came the scream
the slap to my back
what are you doing command
as my hands returned
slowly to the handlebars
i returned the conversation
the universe was out of balance
i put it back, time to think quick
not every move is in a book
of chess
later over lunch, there was the lecture
where bad boys are brought to heel
those stern warnings
you will never do that again
there could be a rock in the path
there could be
there could be
one of those times
they will never know why
or will you really, the stars align
the anger in her face
telling you in large measure
how much she loves you
not in any chess book
it is secret men keep, silence is golden
because sometimes a woman's anger
is her most adorable moment
when you fall in love yet more
where every upbraid becomes a rose
reminding you how precious she is
one of those ways fruition luckily forms
and you get attention, a bonehead move
pays in dividends
like pulling ponytails
not in any chess book
but what is, a most arduous trial
never mentioned in the books
of chess defenses
when the king takes the queen
OKC 7/22
Stay with me near, O God.
This night is dark,
and yours, my day grows colder, still.
O' god the little spark you lent to me, my courage
By your grace it ebbs from me'.
Today this day is long, my soul belongs to thee.
Red, to no one else, stay with me God.
Here when I am naught but weak.
You made me stronger still.
Stilled when I, again until it dies.
He answered heard
Patience, I am coming near.
Do you hear the marching of their feet?
So many trapped in thought, will you grow meek?
Inside out the great divide none but I, may hide.
The many secrets of thine brilliant eyes.
Bright light the stars you feel my warmth upon your face,
As I come near you stilled, don't cry.
Don't fear the face of whom he is, then said, I am.
Your prayer heard
This little spark I am your gem by grace was lent to me.
Freely given back by me, to you.
You give again to some one else in need,
'Perhaps to they, some other child.
I can hear the great black horse it's hooves sound near'!
Yours is the face, I lived to fear to be, I see, the coming of the lord.
A world in need and now again I sleep once more until.
Kiddies, I'm sorry to say that Santa may be visiting you late this year,
As he struggles to circle the Earth spreading his delightful cheer!
Santa had to retire Rudoloph and his friends leaving them much aggrieved,
And long-suffering Mrs Claus is in a snit and left sorely peeved!
It may be New Years Day before he arrives, but he'll visit you eventually,
So place a snack of cookies and milk or salami and cheese 'neath the tree!
That old grinch in the White House decreed that dear old Santa's sleigh,
Henceforth, must be battery powered, to be effective on this Christmas Day!
Alas, Santa must land every 350 miles or so, the battery to refresh!
(Hopefully, he can do this in such unlikely places as Bangladesh)!
No longer will you hear reindeer hooves dancing on your roof in the snow!
But be patient, little ones; Santa will greet you soon with a cheery ho-ho-ho!
The rain came busting through the sky like missiles raining in from the East, it was sudden, it was quick and in second if filled up the pit. Water kept flowing from the hill rushing through the gutter, making its way to the pond and flooding the swamp land.
I stood at the gate sweeping the water out of the place and watching the cars rolling by. The drivers were not in a hurry, they grasp their hands on the steering wheel as the cars cruise effortlessly up the hill and the morning came to a standstill.
The wet morning with lingering pride spreads its long legs in front of wall waiting for the grand jubilee, as the summer heat fades and the body heat emerged somewhere in back of the street, I found hope wandering in the deep,
The clouds darkened, and the elevated sky opens its guts, pouring out a second pool of water on the ground and creating puddles all around. It washes the garbage from the hill and fills the gully with environmental spill.
Hundreds of birds got trapped in the trees with soaked wings and wet beak they were too tired to fly but nature came chasing after them, forcing them off the limbs into the open sky.
They flew to the west where it was dry and another set flew towards south at an altitude that made them look cute, a school of them bind together forming a triangle soar towards the heavens and made were way into the Deep South.
The rain kept thundering down and the people are gather around sheltering in shops and business places. They were not prepared and I watch nature unfold in the morning and the traffic stood still in the street.
I could feel the vibration on the roof, and the raindrops walking like elephant hooves on the zinc and Olympus arguing with Zeus about the fertility on the vine and the age when wisdom was mine
I can smell fresh air coming through the window and smell of fresh cinnamon running in the gutter. The negative vibes are washed upstream clearing the way for brand new day. Rain drops are walking on the roof looking for a brand-new pair of shoes.
Adventures of Robin Hood and his Merry Men.
No1.
Robin’s Thick Member
We wuz out huntin that day
Ah remembers as plain as can be
When a ansome buck came us way
Fust to shoot was me mate Unlucky
Now that buck he just looked in us faces
With an air of his royal decree
Displayin his arrogunt graces
At the arra there stuck in the tree
Ah says, “Robin, he won’t be best pleased
At missin his dinner agen
Your damn good at arrain trees
An pissin off his merry men”
If we goes back to camp with no meal
That maid, she will giv us sum stick
She’ll shove us sum manky old veal
An the merry men will all be sick”
Then Unlucky he says that he saw
Over there be-ind the rockery
A big ol boy of a boar
But his arra, yes, it foun a tree
Stood Marion with expectation
The night would be one great party
But after me grand explanation
We was whipped a foot up from the knee
Then Robin “Unlucky”, he says
“You’s a poor shot as all us can see
If that buck agen inter view strays
Just bloomin well aims fer the tree.
Coz averages seem to dictate
You could bag that buck if you tried
If only you’d concentrate
An wern’t so bloody cross eyed”
So Unlucky he thinks to his sen
I’ll show them a thing or two
That big head an his stinky men
Will be dinin on best red deer stew
Once more he foun his sen afore
That deer who was showin no fear
He watched as his arra did soar
Past that grinnin bucks twitchin left ear
But wait, that buck he was down
His hooves in the air on his back
The arra that just missed his crown
Had given him sheer heart attack
He was cheered when he got back to camp
An the night became one great party
With a bow he was proclaimed a champ
An no longer known as Unlucky.