Long Kline Poems

“Son”...”say goodnight to grandpa”

Spurred by mother dearest 
as well as other politesse
drummed into her second born
fobbing blandishments as incentive
tumbled off fingers of prodigal son
tripped wordsmith to splutter forth
forthwith the following lines.

Back in the day 
quaint...

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Self destructive wickedness arrested, convicted, and gaoled...

with kidnapping little boy 
ordered to suffer
life sentence without parole.

The deadly scourge of  
one obsessive/compulsive disorder
nearly left me starving to death.

Anorexia nervosa absent bulimia 
nadir of onset 
diagnoses...

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Long in the tooth male doth recount, reflect, reimagine...
his woebegone damn dental daze today May 5th, 2021 

No particular rhyme nor reason
garden variety indentured flunky (me)
revisits his salmagundi salad days, 
when oral blight smote 
left...

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Inferiority complex as a kid, adolescent and emerging adult

Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during...

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Chief garbage taster as fifth grade Halloween gag
at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School
interestingly enough landed me a grubhub grab bag.

I rooted thru poetry anthology of mine,
and came across an unpublished poem
by one obscure poet (me),...

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at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School

As a Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got the brilliant idea 
for his sole son to be dressed 
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner...

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Fringe benefits (a plug) for perks (yo man) living at 2 highland manor drive

Expanse of green acres draped
like a petticoat when ye arrive
birds of a feather flock together
and bees gather collect nectar,
pollen, and water to...

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Mediocre son (me) crafts letter to his papa

Impossible mission to escape end of life woe
visit courtesy grim reaper 
inevitable for every mortal,
whether he/she alive
yesterday, today or tomorrow
quintessentially senescence tabled
upended wrested status quo
belief, dogma, faith...
(i.e. Unitarian...

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Coloring smiling faces donned with faux missing teeth,
and waxing poetic lip schtick adorned with moustaches

Swarthy, spooky, scary carved
pumpkin faces thickly materialized 
out of thin air
as Halloween holiday loomed near
yes... just an innocently naive fickle kid,
who...

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The Peterson Directed Handwriting System...

Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many

heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome...

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Brilliant, grandiloquent, magnificent, trenchant...

Writing prompts burst asunder
deafening soundcloud roared
with apocalyptic thunder
'course only audible to yours truly,
I did dumbfoundedly wonder...

At o'clock tick tocking wee hours brisk
December seventeenth
two thousand nineteen
simultaneous blinding fiery kindling
quickening xing risk
within winkin blinkin...

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so much precious existence 
found me rooted with mouth ajar 
as sigh asper the dentin-cementum 
so mud dear reader (with dem perfect 
enameled pearly whites), aye har bar 
envy for those with a complete set...

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...McClors rode up, and smiled quite thin,
He said,”Woman, get away from him!
You come with me now, and it will suffice.
You play more of these games, and you’ll get the knife.”

“See I’m in no mood for...

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“American by birth a rebel by choice” okay
You can’t win, ya can’t “have it your way” 
I understand “Success, it’s just a mind game” 
I’m “so good cats ask for me by name”
“What’s in your...

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the bittersweet silent story of my life age
fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast 
     in indelible (yet never washed out) beige
indistinguishably linkedin, when counting 
     the last three...

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While rummaging thru papers to shred...

Earlier this November fourth
two thousand and nineteen
your truly long in the tooth 
(er...in dentured) wordsmith
rifled thru miscellaneous papers to shred
unwittingly chancing upon

report cards enlightening me,
academic, emotional, social...
characteristics, née significant
figurative "red...

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Prognosticating Present Plight...
Perhaps Preset During In Utero Protean Stage?

Reviewing, sans my life
and arduous hard time
lock, stock, and barrel on regular basis,
and of late composing
this, that, or another rhyme,

now I acquiesce past 
trials and tribulations
contributed positive,...

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Irrelevant boyhood arcane flotsam and jetsam...

Impossible mission to jettison
nonetheless laughter iz best medicine
more enjoyable with vignette aye fabricate
(think swifty taylor harried style)
ah... voila - metaphorical light bulb Edison
would appreciate.

Martha Groff a classmate
the youngest of four...

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Versus me 
(chilling as an outsize ego freezer)
profusely perspiring 
and heavily panting
experiencing one after another 
stuff whet dreams are made
frolicking in autumn mist
(think Maxfield Parrish painting)
while skirt chasing
and playfully tackling,
a gamesome gamine with verve
mercilessly coquettish...

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timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost
regarding Harris household
sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant
outward nonestablishmentarian mold
worst case scenario
would witness Matthew Scott Harris
spending longevity old and feeble minded
at 324 Level Road

outliving parents,...

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Round about nineteen 1971-2, yours truly bid adieu 
to Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School 
   (situated at crossroads – then beau
colic rural routes of Evansburg Road and Ridge Pike), where nary a clue
prevails...

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Miriam O’Flynn worked as a fancy lady,
That was not what she had once planned to be.
Orphaned in a crash, at the young age of nine
She learned to do what she must to survive.

She plied her...

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Reading Out Loud...

Plus applying index finger as pointer guide
(take that Missus Wells),
who best not take objection, hence let snide
blackboard barbed comment dultifully slide
chalked up and emanating

from gentleman with pride
and prejudice toward third grade teacher,
whose archaic...

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Early afternoon delightful balmy zephyr...
February third two thousand and twenty

Yours truly secreted away
within heavenly nook
upon secluded hideaway property
2 Highland Manor apartment, I betook
myself to safe haven took
catch rays (sunbeams),

while crossword puzzle book
(moderately challenging)
draped across lap,
fast...

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We used to go to museums – 
	frequently – 
There were favorite artists:
	Picasso
		Matisse
			Giacometti (especially Giacometti)
	Henry Moore (never passed up a Henry Moore)
		deKooning
			Calder
	Oldenburg
Oh, yes, and Francis Bacon		
		Lucien Freud 
			and Georgia O'Keefe

I could go on, 
	but you...

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