Long Wheaten Poems

Paddy

His name is Padraig Torrin McWheaten of County Cork, esq. – Paddy for short!  He is Celtic mischief with deep brown eyes the color of Irish sod, a big, black gumdrop nose and a...

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Today,
there are no rubber ducks
or mother's marigold skirts
to hide behind
as we once did.

In their place,
lurking dark and hoary,
a bathtub mist
updrafts thick with loose spores,
and mildew veins
sprawling
behind caulked-over creases.

The day,
shrinking away heavy with time,
as a body
sagging
into
water.

Even...

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Angels - 12/28/21  This is a true story experienced by the poet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel in a Whirlwind

Storm of the decade descends upon the day
Torrents of howling rainfall flood the streets
Banshee winds whip trees, waves upon the...

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Said a Cod to a wise old Eel,
I would like to know how you feel?
Though people snack on dips,
Lots more eat fish and chips.
They say it has great meal appeal!

Said the Eel to the wise...

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Ted -Beloved Gift

We have walked so many roads together
 Through sunny afternoons on dusty pathways with the breeze;
Traveled many miles through your fourteen years
 To grassy fields of dogs shows where you became a champion;
Now...

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I'm going to fly,
and see Ireland,
The Emerald Isle,
My ticket's in hand.

Visit in a pub,
drink pints awhile.
Joke with the Locals,
carouse, laugh and smile.

Eat real Irish stew,
brown wheaten bread too.
Then go explore,
old castles of yore.

It's a must...

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Summer’s golden blade does thrust
its effervescent golden musk,
and into  wheaten fields’ did trust,
a volley of  ethereal rust, 
caught by tempered, evening gust

Cart and horse they trot out forth,
spilling damsels, on the stones,
clouds and...

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Yes, I have called you callous
Garish and imperious
An inconvenient glare
Cracking apart the shadows of my sleep
The insistent inconsistency
Of the besieging and retreating heat
In your smoke stained fingers
Your blistering love peeling
My patience, my humor and
The back...

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Do you hear them in the dark sky; voices.
Can you see them? They're in the moist cold wind. 
Strong feverish passionate rant noises. 
It's pined and forced behind, on a whirlwind.

Autumn leaves move violently beaten.
Dancing...

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Do you hear them in the dark sky; voices? 
Can you see them? They're in the moist cold wind.
It's pined and forced behind, on a whirlwind, 
Strong feverish passionate rant noises. 

Autumn leaves move violently...

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"The voices howl in the dark frightens even the brave."
Quote by poet

Voices, do you hear them in the pitch dark.
They drum from pressure within moist cold wind.
It's exfoliating and forced whirlwind,
Abstract heated amorous meadowlark.

Autumn leaves...

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Glorious golden, wheaten, woven.
The Sunhive hangs, safe and secure, in the cradling arms of the old tree.

Full of syrupy sweetness, strength and wisdom of its small, mantled gold and black, dwellers.

At its warm soft womblike...

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