Long Unnerves Poems
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A transgender Barbie! What? The bridge ladies are upset.
Their best friend is not proud Mary, my friend from Winterset.
Her daughter is transgender, and she is tickled as can be.
If you had a transgender in your family, you would feel differently.
The laughter gets so loud, it unnerves me more than just a bit.
I had one, said one mean looking broad, but my husband threw a fit.
We threw her out, and now she sleeps on someone else’s couch.
I wonder about this woman, whose empathy is apparently a slouch.
But isn’t she still your baby? Don’t you love her? I ask this crone just so.
She gives a maniacal laugh, I think it is a cover up for feelings of woe.
Why should she? Asks another witch from the table I am sitting at.
So I get up and run out, screaming, for their meanness is so phat!
I read a poem to my quilting class,
Which happens over Zoom.
It got a warm reception, so
They liked it, I’d assume.
I wrote it several weeks ago;
The topic: sewing curves,
Which even to a practiced quilter
Oftentimes unnerves.
It’s satisfying seeing
A reaction to my writing,
Since mostly, just my husband’s thoughts
Are those I am inviting.
While written comments gratify,
Like a fellow poet’s note,
A responsive audience can make
My spirits rise and float.
My quilting skills are modest,
Though they have improved with time,
But the talent I’m the proudest of
Is setting thoughts to rhyme.
In Hades, flows the chthonic Styx, a river
of woe and pain (a channel thoroughfare;
where Charon ferries the dead, who despair)
which unnerves our damned souls till we quiver.
The Styx! It's like cirrhosis which kills the liver,
metastasizing there; but does not care;
and tortures us beyond what we can bear!
Because we are thrice-damned, we now shiver
with the peals of the Stygian death-knell;
while Heaven appears like a hope long dead
(as if we’re ten-thousand feet deep in hell!),
here, where the redeemed dare not walk or tread,
we are but ghosts, like shades without a shell:
yet, hell can we brave; but, the Styx we dread.
can only start near end
remember let touch send
text tow wind knot unkind
several almost always blind
sans sanctions dubious doubt
say mean like when what shout
carries sharing showing how
onward fast firm never bow
talking points pants unknown
leaves most places all alone
random rules ruin rights rot
cools unnerves calms hits spot
late early loose worm kills bird
silent talks sounds rarely heard
wonder if of out with not who
plays things spams let capture you
good spear into through core
trembles minds hearts bodies more
remembers few less censored
fragments fails points scored
Catwalks
Crowd gawks
Wont style
Forced smile
Strike pose
Fake nose
Weird strut
Flat butt
Scant curves
Unnerves
Small-hipped
Lunch skipped
Stick-thin
Chagrin
Faux tan
Pecan
Plucked brow
Used plough?
Long lash
Bleached 'tache
Plump lips
Veiled nips
Waxed mound
Astound
Forebear
Despair
Sweet girls
Morph churls
Sly pout
Grim trout
Taut thighs
All lies
Make hot
Post-shot
Airbrushed
Not hushed
Mere gaud
Defraud
Model?
Twaddle!
- - - - - - - - - -
25 November 2017
For the "Footle Form - Sequenced or Stand-Alone" contest, sponsored by Brian Strand.
Topsy-turvy seems so
well, it seems so cute
relentlessly cute
saccharin cute.
Until and unless you're in it
and then, well then the
belly comes to regard
its place in you as
something less than
...certain.
Topsy-turvy, ugh
abounding now
injured this, and angry he
fractured that, and we less she
ugh
pitchforks are being sharpened
and eyes are narrowing
the hits keep coming
and then sooner than
we're ready, before we've
absorbed the first hits
they're covered
before we've recovered
ugh
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his poetry)
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his view)
and now and now.
And now
we're left with
only what Leonard
left.
You left too soon
I hadn't yet
learned how to
live up to your death.
Topsy-turvy
Unnerves me.
And my Buddhist rock
has turned to dust
and left us to just us.