Long Paisleys Poems
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“Welcome to Kansas Sofa Mart. How are you today? Looking for anything in particular?”
They look like an odd couple. He is old and ugly; she is young and cute. Too cute.
Husband glares. Wife runs toward salesman, jumps on my lap, strokes my beard.
“You remind me of my daddy,” wife says. Husband looks damned mad.
I jump out the sofa, dumping wife onto the floor. This seems to please him.
(He may have the checkbook after all).
“Sofas,” she says. “We want a sofa” (Easy, peasy. They sell themselves).
“We have such a fine selection of sofas,” I tell them, giving them my winning smile.
I lead them to the sofa section. We have at least two hundred sofas.
She tries out all of them; he stands around, shaking his head, acting mad.
She loves color; he does not. She loves paisleys, plaids, polka dots, stripes.
He makes it clear it is black leather or nothing. Two hours later they choose nothing.
“Thank you for coming in,” I say. Trying to gulp up a bit of a smile.
(And wasting six hours of my day by not buying anything).
Fire sparks, dragon scales, Lucy's hair
If I were limited to seeing and wearing one color
it would be orange
Bright vivid neon orange in paisleys or polka dots
Not the orange of tabbies, but the glowing gleaming orange
of the most vivid leaf you have ever hoped to see
Orange dazzles my eyes out. If I could find orange underwear
In my size 9's, I would run around lifting up my gypsy skirt
Orange in my jewelry, orange in my shoes. Orange, orange, orange!
Sure, you say. She is probably lying. Come see my house.
It is done up in Oranges, yellows and pinks, and if I had to lose two
Of these colors, sorry yellow and pink, but you would have to go
I want fire engines to be orange. I want stop signs to be orange
I want the whole wold to be the color of prancing, angry hot flames
Orange I say. Orange I yell! Orange I am. Prancy, dancy, orange.
Fantastic that you take so much energy from others
They shiver, shake, crackle, and frolic into your life
Not realizing you are the energy-stealer.
I curl up with my cat and my books, comfortable
No, thriving, now that I have evolved into a my own wholeness
How often do I think of you my dear?
This is the first time in twenty-two years actually.
Wonderful here with my hot orange tea with a drop of lemon,
In my Bohemian style home with orange, pink, yellow and golds.
Fabrics you would certainly have not enjoyed – an eclectic clash.
Stripes, paisleys, polka dots too; a cherished nest.
A haven, a Shangri-La because you are not stealing my joy.
I am indestructible now, sun-hearted, totally jacked into my soul.
In my escape from you, I became my most utter and believable me.
So in this one slice of a second I say thank you.
Then I shall travel on into the next twenty-two years
Without thought of you at all.
Some cats have paisleys, some have plaids.
Some wear neon’s, some wear angel wings.
I am Sun God Cat of Polka Dot Blind Fold.
I wear polka dots in all colors, and they sing.
You can call me Sun God Cat for Short if you want.
I am not prissy or anything, because I am not that kind of cat.
Yes, I am a female, and I am usually out for the hunt.
I do not wear clothes, feathers, or any kind of silly hat.
We can do breakfast at the café if you buy me cat nip shots.
But I refuse to meet you ever between ten and two.
Because that is when I lie in my tanning bed to freshen my dots.
And I am not willing to fade my fur for the likes of you.
Don’t take it personally, my friend, I am not trying to be mean
But I like my dots fresh and rainbow like, if I am going to be seen.
My hearts on the shelf.
I put my heart on the shelf today, without cunning array, or tears in vain.
A closet next to a furnace with wool clothing that’s not highly desirable.
The argyles, and paisleys are smiling at my heart while I go upon my day and wait for work to depart.
The silk wraps, and tulle skirts are sad and blue, they see that my heart is broken and drained. Even the rainboots are smothered in drudge. I finally decided not to hold this long grudge.
For grudges cause cancer that eats away, like a moth in a closet on a cool Spring day.
I put my heart on the shelf next to the Christmas picture of you.
No more chicken dumplings, or shredded beef stew.
Just the Nike shoes wanting to run from the drudgery gloom; yet they are stuck in the room with you.
I put my heart on the shelf today.
what planet could this be for boys of ten
and then one hundred
movement felt,
looking at the hardened grain
of hands caressed
with fingers pressed against themselves
absorbing stillness’ breath
suspended in each air a pair
of warm yet liquid-frozen thoughts
captured
then released with care
youthful power to devour light
whose distance now
becomes serene
a slow suspended scene
in the moment captured
stretched like bubble gum or taffy
compressed
into the thinness of a dime
time
rolled between the fingers
ridged and perfect soft
wrapped
as cigarettes unsmoked,
moving miniature rolling pins
of skin like bread
gathered sweet
and then,
a fence to sit upon, a wall to scale
grains of surfaced roughness
where the smooth compare
the toughness of their skin
to skin a shin
upon a polished youth
with broken glass of bottles blowing
tins and rolls all gathered in
their stripes and plaids
and paisleys worn -
attempts to humanize
collateralized machine
we all want out, sometimes,
we all want in.
Serpents, scorpions and owls
are things I can’t endure.
The contents of a bovine’s bowels,
albeit as manure,
or monks in over-shady cowls,
their faces kept obscure,
the sex-life of the larger fowls,
for me hold no allure.
Threatened badgers’ hostile growls,
an overflowing sewer,
others’ stains on bathroom towels –
repugnant, these, for sure.
A dying pig’s pathetic howls
(at least that’s one pig fewer):
Walter Matthau’s drooping jowls –
for these, there is no cure.
Margaret Thatcher’s tortured vowels
are dickish, not demure:
and Ian Paisleys, Enoch Powells
are ignominy, pure.
How do you like my new bedroom? She asked me.
It was bright cheerful, colorful, with wonderful touches.
I loved it as much as anyone has ever loved a bedroom.
Because it reminded me of my childhood, my preteen years.
It is an orange, yellow, pink combination of colors and fabrics.
The first time I saw these colors together was in the sixties.
Walking into this room reminded me of my preteen years.
The years when I discovered fashion magazines for teenage girls.
In the sixties, these magazines featured only two-color combinations.
Either the combo of orange, yellow and pink or a turquoise green blend.
For the first time, we had permission also to combine plaids and florals.
Paisleys, stripes and dots were freed up to live together too.
Angela, Andy, Amber, angels, ambience, attitudes, altitude, all-purpose flour.
Beds, breakfast, brightness, brevity, butter pecan ice cream, bald eagles.
Cali, Carolyn, Chelsea, creativity, compassion, craftiness, cleverness.
Dick, Daisy, Dwight, Deborah, dare devils, delightful deeds, designs.
Emily, Elise, enthusiasm, excitement, eggs, empathy, eagerness.
Faith, fortitude, friends, family, faeries frolicking, frying.
God, generosity of others, gladness, geese, gulps, gargoyles.
Helen, helpful heartfelt friends, hands, hearts, hearing, Heaven.
Ingenuity, imagination, idealism, individuals, illustrations, imps.
Joe, Josh, Jack, Josie, Johnny, Jerome, joyfulness, juice, jubilation.
Kindnesses, kin, kinesthetic learners, kings, ketchup, keys, karats.
Lucille, Lucy, Lou, Linda, Listening, light, likeability, love, limberness.
Molly, Max, Marianne, merrymaking, music, messes, minxes, mini-coopers.
Nests, near misses, nuts, nerds, needles, Never-never-land, nuthatch.
Ostentatiousness, Om, orange, oil, oatmeal, orange juice, organdy,
Purple, pink, plaids, paisleys, prettiness, plumes, peacocks, porcupines.
Quiet, quickening, quail, queens, qualms, quizzes, quotes,
Rita, Ruby, responsibility, respect, regards, religion, remembrances
Susie, Susan, Sophie, seriousness, sensuality, sex, sizzling steaks
Tracy, Tony, TV, Tennessee, twins, troops, twisters,
United States, understanding, umbrellas, udders,
Venus, variety, variegated yarn, vim, vigor
Weddings, wind, watermelon, wheels, wonderfulness,
X x’citement, ‘xtra niceness, ‘xaggeration for poetry
Youthful attitude, young people, yellow yaks
Zany friends, zealots, zeal, zest, zippers, zebras
Written 7-16-2020
Contest: Abcedarian
Sponsor: Beata Agustin